Computer Love

Okay:

So, apparently, Internet dating is the brand new thing.

The other day, I was on the phone with my sister and we were both complaining about how fabulous we are and trying to figure out why Mr. and Mrs. Right hadn't found us yet. My sister suggested that she may begin dating white men exclusively, or at least foreigners. Bottom line; no more American Black men! She's on strike, like the Writer's Guild, "until motherfuckers start giving her some act right".

Sad, but not difficult to imagine or understand.

She also suggested that she may begin using match.com. My jaw dropped to the floor.

"Really?" I said. "But you're not ugly or overweight. Why would you use an Internet dating service?"

"Claude," she said in that my-poor-little-brother-is-so-underexposed tone of hers, "It's not like that. Everybody's on match.com now. People like me, who are super busy and don't have time to go out and mingle use Internet dating services or professional match makers."

"Professional match makers?" I asked in childish astonishment. "Like the Will Smith movie?"

"Something like that, except it's a legitimate business. Very professional."

I was flabbergasted. "Wow," I said, all long and drawn out, like I was a retard who finally discovered what happens to the water after you flush the toilet.

"You should try match.com," she said.

"I don't think so," I said. Truth is, I'm barely comfortable using MySpace. I was born in 79. I grew up on John Hughes movies. Socializing over the computer still seems a little nerdy to me. "No, I'd rather meet someone special the old fashion way."

"So, how's that been working out for you?" she asked. She's a stock broker now, but she has her bachelor's in psychology. She runs mental circles around me in deep conversation, but I know a lot more about rap music than she does, which is infinitely more useful than a pocket full of koans in my opinion.

"Shit," I said, "I got bitches galore/You may have a lot of bitches, but I got much more."

(See. Eazy-E trumps Freud any day. Take that.)

"Whatever, dude. Look, the bottom line is you're single and you hate it and if you wanna hook up with someone nice, you shouldn't rule this out just because you think it's nerdy."

"I'm not doing it," I said.

"You are so stubborn!" she screamed. "You don't want to go to the dermatologist for your razor bumps because you think it's gay and you're afraid he's going to stick his finger up your ass."

"Going to the dermatologist is gay and after you turn 27 all doctors have to stick their finger up your ass. It's the rule now!"

"Why would your dermatologist stick his finger up your ass?"

"Because he's a fucking doctor!" Duh.


That wasn't the last I had heard about the Internet dating. I went to the recording studio over winter break to begin working on my new EP "The Fight in the Dog" (Shameless Plug!) and I asked the engineer about it. Or brought it up rather.

"Can you believe my sister tried to get me to start using match.com? What do I look like? Some kind of dork who can't pick up a woman at a bar like a real man?"

"I met my fiancee on MySpace," he said.

"Oh".

Then I was at a friend's house watching American Gladiators a week or so ago (which I've been meaning to blog about). Her roommate and his girlfriend were sitting on the couch across from me. Looking quite happy. Sitting all close and touching each other and whatnot. White guy. Asian girl. Very American. They were laughing at each other's jokes and telling stories together. You know, kind of trading sentences. He even ordered Chinese food, which I thought was considerate. I'm sure it made her feel at home, or at least like he was making an effort to show his cultural sensitivity. He even made everyone use chopsticks. Pretty cool guy. I was envious.

Then they reveal that they met on match.com.

I was floored.

So, maybe I'll check this thing out. Apparently the whole world is using it, and I'm catching on late. It wouldn't be the first time. I didn't get a cell phone until 2002. I didn't get a DVD player until 2004. And I just found out about having baby wipes in the bathroom. It's a strong selling point when women come to visit. It makes me seem clean.

Thanks for reading.

GO OBAMA!

Factoid: There are 3 different kinds of female orgasms, but most women can only have one of the three, or two at the most.