On Blue Pill Expectations

I’ve been on two internet dates. One ended with me getting hot tea poured deliberately into my lap, and the other one was a fucking disaster.

Many moons ago, I went through a period of pretty low self esteem. I had just gotten out of the military and had a five year long relationship end on bad terms. I was adrift in life, and women could smell it on me. It was like I had a phantasmal neon sign above my head that read “Mid twenties male. Brash, annoying, desperate, clingy.” There was no love out there for your Faithful Scribe.

I did what every idiot does at that point, which was to convince myself that if I could just get the right girl, everything would look up. The ladies were not so enthusiastic about my cart before the horseness. I turned to eHarmony to remedy this unfortunate situation.

After the month long vetting process, I finally arranged a date. The girl was a Mary Kay salesperson (make up ladies are hot, right?) and seemed to be about where I was in life. I drove over to her apartment to take her to dinner, visions of meeting my future wife playing in my head. I just knew that this would be The One – we were going to become a team and pull each other out of our collective funks, building each other’s self esteem. Together, we were going to conquer the world.

I pulled up outside her building (she didn’t give me her actual apartment number for PERSEC reasons) in the rain and called her. After she said she was coming out, I began watching for her. I am a gentleman and always open the door for a lady, but I wanted to stay in my warm, dry truck as long as possible. After several false alarms, I heard a knock on my passenger side door. My finely tuned jungle sense had somehow missed the future love of my life walking across the parking lot.

I sprung into action, much chagrined. Had I messed up her first impression already? I hopped out, and went around to the passenger side door. The creature I beheld was nothing like the one that had danced in my mind on the trip over. There were no long, lean thighs. There was no feminine jawline, no perfect (but tastefully concealed) busom pushing through a sheer (but tasteful, you see?) blouse. Absent were soulful (but glinting with subtle mischief!) eyes.

I was looking at a human tub of shit. This poor girl had let herself go to the point of repulsiveness. She had two and a half chins, a pannus that hung to her knock-knees, and tiny, beady eyes that were permanently squinting due to the oppressive weight of facial fat. Dear Reader, I believe I actually took several steps back.

“Hi, Dogsquat! I’m so excited to meet you. Where are we going to eat?”

My mind raced. I had reservations at a five star restaurant. I was prepared to invest three or four hundred dollars on dinner with the vision in my head. There is no sense skimping on the woman who was to be my salvation, I had reasoned. But this? Is this what I deserved? Hell no.

“I figured we could head over to The Macaroni Grill. They have pretty good food, I guess.”

Quick thinking, right? Smooth, too. Not smooth or quick enough to back out of this date, though. I was bullied into opening the truck door by social convention, and my inability to be a total asshole to an obese girl.

Have you ever seen films of the paratroopers getting on planes prior to jumping into Normandy? Burdened by a hundred pounds of gear and parachute, those brave men struggled up the ladders into DC-3s, teetering on the threshold until they got a helpful shove from the man behind them. Watching this woman get into my truck was quite similar. She huffed and puffed, quivered and jiggled, and finally slopped herself into the passenger’s seat. My huge Dodge truck with a 3/4 ton suspension groaned. When I got back on my side, I swear my truck had a ten degree list to starboard.

Walking in to the restaurant with her, I was as embarrassed as I have been since a very unfortunate incident in fourth grade. The men cast pitying looks at me, and the women were not much better. The servers looked at her greedily, knowing there was economic opportunity in a woman who obviously ate so much.

Dinner conversation was uncomfortable, until I struck upon an idea. I asked about her past relationships. If I wasn’t going to get to know the future Mrs. Dogsquat, I could at least do anthropological research into the kind of man who sought a woman such as this. She was emboldened by my seeming interest in her.

“Oh, I don’t date a lot. I was seeing this guy for awhile, but he cheated on me and gave me an STD.”

“Oh..An STD?…So…uh…what did you get?” Like she had won a raffle or grab bag or something.

“I have genital warts. Don’t worry, though – I get them frozen off and you won’t catch anything. We can still have sex.”


“I hope we do have sex later. I’m having a really good time with you. I promise it will be great.” The last part was said with what I assume was a conspiratorial wink, but it looked like some adipose triggered facial tic.

“Okay.” I said.

That was the final blow for me. At that point in my life, I might have sunk so low as to use this poor creature for sex, but the thought of warts on my unit put the kibosh on that. We sped through dinner, her surely thinking I was excited by the promise of wading through folds of Limburger scented chub in search of her diseased lady parts, and me wishing for an ejection seat instead of a booth.

When we pulled up in front of her apartment building after dinner, I made the usual excuses about being tired and having to work early in the morning.

“You’ll call me, right?”

I envisioned her very own phantasmal neon sign spinning over her head. It read “Female, mid-twenties. Fat, boring, desperate, and an STD.”

I went home, deleted her number, and drank half a bottle of Jack.  Something had to change, I thought.  This can’t be all there is for me….


31 thoughts on “On Blue Pill Expectations

  1. Enough about the girl thing, how do you drink your Jack. On that nite, was it out of the bottle? Didja ever get a chance to go to Lynchburg? I was there on a tour. All the trees have this interesting blackish fungus growing on them as a byproduct of the distilling process.

    I had a similar experience post military and post college, it was before the internet and it was a dating service. She was obese and had braces on her wrists (I assume from carpal tunnel). It affected me as well.

  2. Congrats on the blog Dogsquat!

    Aside from that, I’m sorry that you experienced that date. That’s enough to scar anyone for life.

  3. I let an old flame set me up with a friend. Life lesson, ya know?

    She was about 6’1, just shorter than me, and outweighed me (I am NOT small) by a good 60 lbs. She had thin red hair, a East European peasant face, and no grace. I got cat shit on my foot when I went into her house, and a took a while for the odor to clear from my clothes. She barely said anything, had zero social skills, and no personality.

    When I chided my old ex for her poor assessment skills, she exhibited complete bafflement. “You think she was overweight???” like it was some complete surprise that I could be so shallow. “I can’t believe you didn’t like her personality…” like she had exhibited one. No real plans, no real conversation outside of silly work drama. She seemed stunned when I told her I “Didn’t feel a spark.”

    I chalk it up to just another moment in a rich life.

      • If I were a betting man, I would guess blank stare then some hamster-wheeling.

        I am sure she was a nice person. I am sure, when she sets up an online profile, that she will notes how she loves to laugh, and she really likes having fun, and that her friends consider her a great catch. But, it would have taken a more enthusiastic person than myself to pull her “personality” into action.

        We never discussed if she had the herps or anything. I think I might have at least paid some attention to the conversation.

  4. I can understand the feelings you expressed here, and I’m not condoning allowing your body to go to hell, but I do feel pretty bad for the lady you mentioned. Like many obese women, she knows deep down that she is physically repulsive to others and is thus willing do do ANYTHING that might bring about some kind of connection, some chance at love. Hence her propositions, which may seem absurd but considering her circumstances they make sense.

    • I understand where you’re coming from. Look deeper, though. Who else in the story is just as “repulsive” as the obese woman? Who else is willing to do ANYTHING to bring about love and requited lust? Who’s actually the most repulsive, ignorant character in the story?

  5. Are you sure you only drank half a bottle? I would have gotten tired long before you did, and had a panoply of some of the Carribbean’s um, finest agricultural exports. Between known as a bottle of Overproof rum and maybe some weed if I could score some. My sympathies

  6. You were more than kind not to slam the truck into gear and floor it the moment you saw her. The rest was heroic. Don’t make a habit of it, it could lead to a drinking problem.

  7. Dogsquat, you are already one of my favorite bloggers and I love reading everything you write, but the line that really made this post was . . .


    I copy/pasted it to make sure I quoted it exactly right. I laughed until I cried. How do you not have a Pulitzer yet?

    • I agree with Bellita on this one!
      Welcome to blogland, Dogsquat 🙂

      And I am truly sorry to hear of your dating fiasco. I also hope that the woman changes things for the better for her own life.

        • You’re welcome.
          You know what, Dogsquat?
          Something just occurred to me.
          When some women defend womanhood (in a blanket fashion) in response to what you men say, it’s really because we haven’t experienced what you men have. I can categorically say that I have never dated a fat woman with genital warts who is desperate for sex before…(This is truly infra dig on many levels!)
          So, to my mind, fat women with genital warts just don’t exist.
          Does this make sense?
          Illogical and naïve, I know…
          In many ways the Manosphere is an education in itself for me, about what’s out there for you men.
          Everyone hears about the bad men all the time. That message is pretty ubiquitous.
          It’s only in the Manosphere that you hear about their female equivalents…

          • I was inundated growing up with all kinds of messages about how women were sweet and nice, and men were loud and brash and overbearing. If a woman was mad with me, it was because I was not understanding and needed to be more thoughtful and kind.

            And in reality, I just needed to ignore that gender bias message and just see women as people, not special and wonderful, and as full of flaws as the other half of humanity.

            Women have better PR, and it makes the red pill a bit more bitter for men to swallow.

            • @ JutR,
              “Women have better PR, and it makes the red pill a bit more bitter for men to swallow.”
              Yes women do have better PR, I agree.
              But perhaps men would accept this ‘fact of life’ more readily if we women used our PR honourably.
              Am I right?
              Or are men well past this point of no return?

              • Well, I tend to never think there’s a point of no return. Sometimes there’s a needed reset. I think that the outcomes of the misandry will be some societal lessons that will seem obvious in retrospect, but, few people will admit to today. I think a lot of people are already hurt, and I think more will follow. People will have spent their lives in the pursuit of the wrong things, having been told that would give them value.

                I think we had an arrangement that used to allow women an elevated status, and mystique, and allowed men some relief from Darwinian forces. Somewhere along the line, that got denigrated, and disposed of, and now, we have something in its place that is much more base, much less romantic, more disposable, and fundamentally more tragic for those who have children in the mix.

                I don’t know if it can be reversed.I do know that individually, we are not lost unless we deem ourselves so.To get what we want out of life, we all have to tackle it as individuals and do the best we can with the tools we are given. I think blogs and conversations like this can help expand our interpersonal tool sets.

          • Interesting point, Spacetraveller. I do believe that women often view a negative judgement of one woman as a judgement of all women. And everyone has a bit of the solipsist in them, not just women. Put the two together and men appear to be jackasses….

  8. You know how obese a person has to be to have a FUPA that hides the pubes, let alone down to the knees? I hope you were exaggerating here, but if not, holy smokes!.

    I nearly vomited at the wart story.

  9. Wow! I wouldn’t want anyone to think of me this way. Even if it is the truth. I have been thinking about what I need to improve on. The idea of being at a low point and wanting anyone there…wow. I love your blog.

    • For this I thank you. I did go out with a girl or two that ended up being heavier than they appeared, but it was not by the margin you describe and thankfully I’d wisened up enough before checking out internet dating that I only agreed to meet them for a drink. One I picked up with my cousin in the car (I was dropping him off in the area where she lived by coincidence) and he gave me the most “….” look I’ve ever seen from him. I bought her a drink, she bought me a drink, and thankfully the scenery was beautiful, because she certainly wasn’t.

  10. Oh man, I’ve got to start getting here in a more timely fashion. I laughed so hard at this. You know what? She defrauded you. No sympathy whatsoever. That’s just wrong. (Unless she had posted no photo and you didn’t have a clue.) I think you were awfully nice to even go through with the date.

    I have a friend who did an online dating series for a local newspaper. They paid for her to join all kinds of sites. One cost more than $1,000. After some emails back and forth on that site she and one guy took to chatting on the phone, so by the time they set up a time to meet she was convinced she had met her soulmate. He showed up in a wheelchair! He had never mentioned it, and the site had made the match without disclosing it as well.

  11. Oh Dogsquat, I laughed so much I woke up my twins. You were WAY too nice to this woman. She didn’t deserve more than a BigMac if she portrayed herself to be “less” than she turned out be, It is one of the many perils of online dating though. Reality never quite lives up to the picture we paint in our heads.

  12. This is not far from my first after getting divorced. Oye! Why didn’t I just keep driving? But I’m nice, right?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s