Online Dating – what’s all this romantic crap about?

Welcome to the first edition of my new column, That’s life

What’s this magazine comin to? When I signed on to write – or was forced to by my liaison officer in the witness protection program – I had no idea this ezine (see, I’m pickin up new lingo every day) would turn into some namby-pamby, wet, bunch a stories. Geesh, I feel like we’ve gone all girlie overnight. What happened to the great level I set with posts like, “Why Do We Pee When We Poop?” or my classic, “Wine Tastin on the Cheap.” I loved that one. Yeah, I know the title says Ve wrote it, but hey, I inspired the whole thing of actually tastin bottom shelf grocery store wines – in other words, cheap.

So, anywho, here’s my topic for today:

Why Do Women Like Romance?

Like it, shit, they crave it, gotta have it and if we men don’t deliver well, it all turns into a freakin shit storm. Why can’t they just be content with, seein em now and then, OK I’ll go so far as once a week if I have to, but shesh, all this “call me every day” and “see me several times a week” crap…look I’m busy.

Met a nice chick online – or so I thought. We been seein each other for a couple a months now. I thought everything was OK. Then she sends me a text last Thursday. “Aren’t we going to see each other on Friday? We always see each other on Friday. What’s wrong?” That was the beginning of the end. We went out to lunch last Tuesday, why do I have to take her out again on Friday?

Look, I’m a busy guy. I have to prepare this column. And that’s not all. I got a life, got stuff to do and maybe sometimes, I just wanna break from your endless observations on life that I should have an intelligent answer for and look at you like I think what you just said is interestin. Actually, when I look at you like that, I’m really just thinkin about how nice it will be to go home, take my pants off and fart. At this age, I usually got somethin buildin up just about mid-way through the date. It’s not easy holdin it in for hours, but hey, I’m not pig. I got class so I hold it in, but let me tell ya, it’s not easy doin that for a couple a hours.

Ever since my divorce and then the online datin thing, well it’s startin to get outta control. Look, the former Mrs. Bello kinda took me to the cleaners if you know what I mean and I just don’t have the kinda disposable cash to be datin several times a week. And ya know what, I’m tired. There I said it, I’m tired. I just don’t always feel like gettin spruced up and pickin you up and goin to some snooty restaurant or a movie.

The movies, now there’s a fun one. We can’t go see something I’d like with a lotta action. No, we have to see somethin that makes ya think and as if that’s not enough, then we have to go out to some shitty little, dimly lit coffee shop that plays jazz in the background so they can sell overpriced coffee drinks with little designs in the foam. I don’t even like coffee, well not like that. That’s not coffee, but wait, here’s the kicker – while I’m tryin to figure out how much I’ve spent by now, how much longer I can keep this up and hold in my farts, at the same time I gotta make intelligent commentary on the boring movie – no film – we just saw. That’s just way too much pressure! I didn’t even like that movie, but if I say that I can watch my score drop immediately. But, better yet, mostly I don’t even have to make commentary because you do that for me.

Then if I finally do say somethin like, “Isn’t it about time we get goin?” she gets all butt hurt and I have to hear a whole new kinda stupid like, “Well, Clifford, life is fragile. Everything could be wiped out tomorrow. Carpe diem you know.” What kinda bullshit is that?

Maybe I’ll just have to take a break for a while and spend more time with my dog. Hey, with him at least we can fart together whenever we feel like it.

Clifford Bello Written by:

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