Reason #652 Why Dating Is Rough: The Bad Boy

Let's see, what do I know about you so far? You're a jerk. You're opinionated, wildly arrogant, just a hair creepy, I suspect disrespectful, and who knows? If I date you for any length of time, perhaps I will find myself cut up into little pieces and stored in your freezer.

(I'm sorry, but that last one is just a baseline assumption that is necessary for anyone one meets on the internet.)

If you were only those things, it would be so easy to just walk away. And by walking away, I mean clicking on the icon that sends you a pre-drafted Dear John email, letting you down ever so gently.

After all, you do realize, don't you, that you are stealing time away from the SEVENTY THREE other men who have thrown their names in the Khop Ring in the ten days since I've burst onto the Charm City internet dating scene? Of course you do. You wouldn't have it any other way.

For research purposes, I googled the question, "Why do women like bad boys?" and came up with this hit on "Self Growth.com". And even though the dude who wrote the article is trying to sell me a five-part mini-course on flirting with women, I have to admit, he's not all that far off.

How so?

Challenging and Adventurous? Check, aaaaand Check! You've got my attention, partially because I know that at any moment I could lose yours. This is interesting to me, as while I suck at actual chess, I quite enjoy a mental game of it. You take liberties with me in our conversations, pushing the limit of what's appropriate. You're cognizant that you've walked right out on a limb, and you're interested to see if and at what point that branch will break, landing you flat on your ass and at square one with someone else. Why are you not concerned about that happening?

well......

Confidence and Indifference? Check! Check! Your online profile gives a veritable middle finger to the main stream, and based on my preliminary observations, this is fairly reflective of how you live your life. You're not terribly fussed if I throw up my hands and you see the back of me walking away. In fact, in the event that happens, you'll have already convinced yourself that it must be due to a character flaw in me, not you, God's gift to women.

My friends and loved ones are undoubtedly reading this, shaking their heads and thinking, "Please, Khop, not again. We've done this with you before. Please settle down with a perfectly nice, perfectly bland boy. She's got all these choices, and who does she gravitate to? The jerk off."

Come on, give me a little credit.

First off, I'm giving good playing time to the others in the que, lining them up and spitting them out as fast as one who has a full time job, several hobbies and other social commitments can. In fact, I have two dates on the books, three pending, and the other night I had "drinks" (see, I'm learning!) with a perfectly nice gentleman, who unfortunately turned out to have a very elitist world view, not to mention slightly crossed eyes.

[Note to cross-eyed men out there: I beg of you. Schedule an activity for the first date: bowling, skeet shooting, cow-tipping, anything, so that I'm not sitting across a table from you for two hours, having the mental dialogue, "Sweet Jesus, this guy has crossed eyes. Don't stare. Wait, you need to make eye contact. Do I have eye contact? I'm not sure. Crap, what'd he just say??"]

Second, employing Stephen Covey's highly effective Habit #5, "Seek First to Understand", I'm in the information-gathering phase here, trying to assess what I'll find once I peel back the layers of this bad boy's onion. Is there depth and kindness there? Do we want the same things out of life and relationships? How similar are our values? Or, at the end of the day, is he just your run-of-the-mill, garden-variety asshole? I think it's fair to say that I've demonstrated that when the answers come back negative on those big questions, I politely turn and look elsewhere. I just can't bring myself to give up the hope that I can find someone who wants the same things I do and will treat me the way I deserve to be treated, while at the same time catching my interest in a manner that I can only describe as intellectual catnip. In essence, I'm rooting for Bad Boy, but I'm not afraid to cut him from the team if he's not up to par.

Besides. Thus far, he's given no indication that he's poly-amorous. Sadly, given his recent competitors, that puts him far in the lead.

Just call me Sookie,

khop

Reason #237 Why Dating Is Rough: www.oh-here-we-go-again.com

Great news, readers!

No, no, it's not another Soup Swap.

For I, dear khop, have decided to take the plunge to dating, inter-web style.

What prompted this turn of events, might you ask? Probably not what you’d think.

The other morning I woke up in pain. A very sharp pin prick of pain on the left side of my upper back actually woke me from my slumber. I put my hand back there and felt a very big, very hard lump. I thought, "Well, here it is. The way I'm going to die. From a cancerous tumor on my back."

Sigh.

When I got out of bed to peer in the mirror at this thing that was going to kill me, I realized that it was not, in fact, a tumor.

Horray!

It was a big huge nasty back zit. Did I mention how badly this thing hurt? As I contorted my body in attempt to get both hands back there to pop it, I thought, "Well, here it is. The way I'm going to die. From breaking my neck in attempt to pop my own back zit."

Sigh.

The fact that my untimely death could be entirely avoided if only I had a significant other on hand to pop said not-tumor sent me plummeting into a deep depression, very sad George-Michael-Bluth-Charlie Brown-like.

Verily, verily, this was not the best morning ever.

So I decided to do something about it. I’d been meaning to give Charm City interweb dating a try for a while, and things seemed to be calming down lately. No soup swap, no pending granite installations, no triathlon weekends coming up, why not? Any way I looked at it, it was a win-win situation: best case scenario, I find the man of my dreams, my veritable “one”. Medium case scenario, I get the ego boost of having a few irons in the fire, even if nothing materializes. Worst case scenario, I consider the whole thing research for my pathetic little rag.

I’ve dabbled in the world of internet dating before, a few times in fact. The first was several years ago with Match.com while I was living in West Chester, PA. Like the sprinter that I am, I lined up four dates in one weekend. By the end of Date #4, I was thoroughly burnt out and spent the next several months getting the shakes whenever I found myself in the same room as my computer and staunchly preferring the company of my cat and my Tivo.

Ever the optimist, I gave things another shot a few months later with Neil Clark Warren’s shop over at eHarmony. And while I do see distinct advantages to the particular brand of madness he claims is in his method, I struck out over there, as well.

About a year or so later, in a moment of curiosity, I took a gander through Match.com again, and made this little discovery. And until now, that was that for me and lovin’ on the world wide web.

Why start this all up again? Well, for the reasons I explained above, namely back zit, irons in fire, writing material, et cetera, et cetera. I am in a new city, so there is a whole new batch of mens out there waiting to “wink” at the khop. Who’s to say my luck won’t be different this time around? Plus, there are plenty of people I know, cool, normal people, who have found dating success at the swipe of a credit card and a few clicks on the keyboard. So why can’t I? With renewed optimism, I fired up my shiny new MacBook Pro and started surfing away.

Look out, Charm City web daters! Here I come!

So far, I’m six days in, and I have four post-it notes chock full of observations, so if nothing else, my quest for writing material has certainly been successful. I’ll relay one or two now and save the rest for later posts.

First thing’s first: The Handle.

In this uncertain life, I’m sure about very few things. One thing I am rock solid on, though, is that like your child’s name, your internet dating handle must be chosen with extreme thought and precision. When thinking through potential handles, you must consider all the ways it could be contorted to make you look lame, creepy, uninteresting, or just plain weird. This is not only critically important in your attempts to attract quality members of the opposite sex, but also so if (no, when) your friends find out about your quest for online love and track down your profile behind your back, you’re not forever referred to as “Ladyluver” or, ahem, one hot chick.

My first time around, I was stumped. I didn’t want to use any overt name identifiers (unsafe) or my initials (lame). I didn’t want to typecast myself as a “frisbeegal” or try to come up with a clever dating-themed name. In the end, my first attempt was so unfortunate I struggle to even relay it here. The formula I devised was:

cat’s name (oh how I cringe at this, yes, yes, major clue as to why I am single) + year of birth + best frisbee throw/heckle = world class handle.

The sum of this particular equation was Lulu77huckit. (This account has long since been killed so don’t even bother searching.)

Not very far into this foray I realized that my math was a bit off.

To me, cat’s name plus year of birth plus best frisbee throw/heckle equaled Lulu77huckit, but to the average West Chester internet-dating male, the equation probably went something like this:

Lulu77huckit = this girl has a weird first name + year of birth + did she just say “fuck it”? As in, "Fuck it, I guess I'll try internet dating?"

And even after clarification, the BEST this equation would ever amount to was:

Lulu77huckit = this girl used her CAT’S name in her handle? + year of birth + frisbee? you mean like frisbee football? Is that a real sport? I thought only barefoot hippies played that game?

I never was particularly good at math.

This time around, after very careful deliberation, I think I picked a slightly better handle. I’m not going to relay it here; however, if you are any good at internet stalking at all, you should be able to find it on your own without too much difficulty. I am aware that there is some time-sensitivity to the name, as it refers to me being new in town, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

I am excited to report that I have been outdone, though, in terms of unfortunate handles, as the other day I was “winked” at by “Lone Ranger seb”. Because of the lack of underscores or spaces, though, it took me quite a bit of time to realize that his handle was not, in fact, “Loner Angers eb”.

Good luck with your anger issues, s.e.b. I wish you all the best with that.

Undoubtedly more soon,

khop

The Anatomy of a Soup Swap

If you've been thinking to yo' self, "Self, I do not have enough soup in my life," well then perhaps, just perhaps, you should throw a Soup Swap.

wha??

Don't worry, I shall take this opportunity school you.

So without further ado or fanfare, I give to you:

Khop's Guide to Soup Swapping, 1st edition

(see legal disclaimers below*)

What is a soup swap?

Simply put, a soup swap is a party by which each person brings an agreed amount of soup for tasting and trading. Ever been to a Christmas cookie exchange? I personally have not; however, it is important to note that if you do decide to have a soup swap, you should throw out that example when explaining to others the concept of the swap. This will put them at ease, because apparently everyone on the planet (except for me) has been to a Christmas cookie exchange. In fact, I only learned about Christmas cookie exchanges when telling people about the soup swap.

Just how much soup we talkin', Khop?

There are no set rules, just the ones you set. I went aggressive and made the entry criteria 7 quarts of homemade soup, which is, excuse my language mom, a shit-ton of soup. The average soup recipe makes about 2 quarts, which meant that most of my friends who agreed to participate were probably cussin' me at some point in the past few weeks as they realized they had to make yet another batch to yield enough soup. There were a couple folks who rolled into the swap looking a little shell shocked, but I'm not gonna name any names.

So how does this work?

1. Pick a date far into the future, because unless you roll with a crowd that can cook massive amounts of soup on a dime or you've thrown one of these before, you're gonna need time to recruit people to drink the soup-flavored KoolAid on this one. I think my initial invite went out about two months in advance. I've pasted a copy of my facebook invitation to give you an idea of the details:

Here's how the swap works:

1. Choose your favorite FREEZABLE soup recipe (cream-based soups do not freeze well). Chili is acceptable.

2. Make enough soup to COMPLETELY fill seven 1 quart containers. (Note, this will likely require you to make 2 - 4 batches.)

3. Divide soup into seven NEW 1 qt gladware-type containers. (ie, disposable, b/c you will not get them back, but you will get 6 replacements and you will get to take the tasting quart back home.)

4. Label each quart with the type of soup and whether or not it is vegetarian.

5. Make a bunch of copies of yo recipe.

6. Grab a bottle of wine and/or a tasty appetizer to share and show up at my digs!

7. Upon arrival, you will get to pick six numbers, one for each round (the 7th quart is for tastings). Your number for each round corresponds to your draft order.

8. Taste as many soups as you like! Starting promptly at 5pm, we will hold a 6 round soup draft.

9. Collect as many recipe copies as you like.

Please note:

- Store/restaurant-bought soup ain't got no place at this swap. Cheaters will be heckled and thrown out of the draft. (But then potentially get picked up by the Philadelphia Eagles, sigh...)

- If you can't cook or don't dig on soup, feel free to come by to witness the soup drafting frenzy.

- Out of towners, feel free to plan to stay the night at chez khop.

- RSVP is a must!! Also, closer to the date, please be sure to post what type of soup you are bringing (and if it is vegetarian). It helps avoid too many duplications.

- If you are unable to attend, but are desperate to participate, you may draft by proxy, either by sending a representative or by dropping off soup ahead of time and trusting (yikes) me to draft for you. Note, the goods must be delivered in order to draft. No soup, no draft.

2. Talk incessantly about the soup swap to anyone who will give you the time of day. Throw the term "Soup Draft" around a lot, as it gives your event "street cred", you know, because drafts remind people of football and thus are cool. Demand explanations from people who claim they cannot come, and attempt to heckle them into changing their plans. Brother's wedding? Oh for crying out loud. Wouldn't you rather be swapping soup? Don't hide your disappointment and disapproval if your attempts prove unsuccessful. It is ok if someone comes if only to shut you up about the whole thing.

3. Pick an afternoon and bang out your 7 quarts.

If applicable, curse the fact that you don't have a significant other who will do the resulting dishes.

4. As the date approaches, bug people to post what kind of soup they are bringing, so as to avoid too many duplications. There were THREE people talking independently about bringing Thai Pumpkin Soup, but thankfully only one did. On second thought, it would've been nice to have a duplicate on that one, as I wasn't able to snag one myself.....

5. Note with glee how many people begin referring to the upcoming swap in their FB status messages, regardless of the tone of or number of curse words contained within the actual message.

6. On the appointed day, free up all available counter space, slap a sign on your door and wait for shit to go down.

7. Swappers will begin to arrive to stake a claim on counter space and begin warming tasting quarts.

TWO MAJOR LESSONS LEARNED:

1. Have beverages and all other foodstuffs out of the kitchen. Unless your kitchen is bigger than mine, which is entirely possible, if not probable, all available space should go to soup display.

2. Kindly request that anyone who is able should heat their tasting quart prior to arrival, and insist that tasting quarts do not arrive frozen.

As the people and the soup flowed in, near pandemonium broke out as sixteen swappers tried to stake out a counter spot, defrost/ warm the tasting quart, set up a display of any necessary toppings, grab an app, and pour a drink in my 13' X 15' kitchen.

The words I think you're looking for are "fire" and "hazard".

8. People will begin to mill about to taste, as Squeaks would say, all the soupy goodness. As we are living in the age of the great swine flu, provide lots of dixie cups 'n ladles 'n stuff to facilitate hygienic tasting.

9. Once substantial tasting opportunity is had, hold a drawing for draft order. You can do this any way you like, but I chose to have people pick a number for each of the six rounds. For example, my picks ended up being:

Round 1: Pick 2

Round 2: Pick 2

Round 3: Pick 13

Round 4: Pick 4

Round 5: Pick 14

Round 6: Pick 9

10: Draft Away!

The following were the choices at this event:

Deb's Spinach Chicken Tortellini

Cassie's Fiesta Soup

Dov's Creamy Potato Soup

Ilana's Potato Zucchini Soup

Michelle's Peruvian Chicken Soup

Traci's Thai Pumpkin Soup

Megan's Lasagna Soup

Josh and Carisa's Middle Eastern Lamb Stew

Squeaks' Vegetarian Lentil Soup

Lindy's Sante Fe Soup/Turkey Chili

Fran's Tomato Corn Chowder

Jenna's Matzo Ball Soup

Kate's Caramelized Onion Soup

Melinda's White Chicken Chili

Khop's Butternut Squash Soup

Becky/Jackie's Thai Chicken Noodle

Mad props to all y'all's soup making skillz!!!

11. Afterwards, some heartfelt karaoke is undoubtedly called for.

Thanks, all swappers and guests!

Sushi Dan, take note: THIS is the kind of swappin' I'm into....

khop

*If by reading this, you are now inspired to hold a swap, you are legally obligated to invite me. Just sayin....

Name This Tune......

Ok, 15 or so readers, I need your help.

The last blog entry got a lot of reaction from folks. Truthfully, I worry that I will never be able to top it. A greater part of me desperately hopes I never top it, but that's neither here nor there.

And in the wake of such a gold mine of writing material, I'm finding that this week's post (I'm aiming for once a week if you haven't noticed) just ain't writing itself. The post is waiting offstage like the act to follow Pavarotti, sneaking in one last smoke, holding back a little vomit and nervously exclaiming to anyone passing by, "Seriously? Seriously, people?? I gotta follow that?!?"

Poor little post.

Anywho, I decided that while I figure out how to deal with the fact that this blog may very well have peaked at entry number 8, I would enlist a little help from you.

She needs a name.

"Catchy Title Goes Here" was never intended to be permanent. I'm well aware it's kinda lame sounding and doesn't give the reader any clue as to what he is about to read. However, it is a spot-on accurate representation of what I was thinking at the moment of creation, thoughts that went something like this, "I have no idea what to name this damn blog. Why do blogs need names anyway? That's stupid. I'll name it later."

Also, I was not entirely sure if this second go at writing was going to be at all sustainable, so why waste time and precious brain power thinking up a title for something that may only exist for a week. That's just crazy talk.

So now that this little red-headed bastard stepchild is a few months old, and I think she'll be around for awhile, let's take one step further towards making this whole operation legit by giving her a name that isn't immediately met with a slightly confused, blank stare. After all, I don't wanna be in the same category as this girl's parents.

That's where you, dear friends, come in. I'm halfway decent at many things, ranging from paper/rock/scissors to novice-level Excel spreadsheet manipulations. I can hold my own in the kitchen and on the ultimate field. I've been told I'm a better than average kisser. I've successfully kept two cats alive for several years. I've been known to be an asset at the flip cup table. But I'm crap at naming things.

Some thoughts to keep in mind:

1. While this blog tends to veer towards the dating misadventures of myself and those around me, it's not limited to that. It just so happens that the dating misadventures of myself and those around me tend to make for more interesting reading than what I cooked for dinner last night and are less likely to get me fired if accidentally discovered by my boss than ranting about the latest asinine thing one of my customers said that day. However, in the event that a single, nice, gainfully employed, non-poly amorous man with no mommy or commitment issues should come my way, the name should not have type casted the blog, lest we find ourselves in a pickle.

2. Positive word association is a plus. Becky G. is the one that got me thinking about this re-naming project with her comment on the last post. And while I do think "Don't Hassle the Hop" is a hilarious name, I would like to avoid setting up a mind association between me and David Hasselhoff or similar:

Ideally, the name of this blog will make me sound hot. If that's possible. (Am I the only one that noticed that there was no way to read that line without staring at the Hoff's junk? Made ya look, heh heh...)

3. Keep it family-friendly.... you know, so I can keep making eye contact with family members.

If you have enjoyed reading this blog so far, take a moment and pay it back by dropping a comment with an idea, or at very least an empty promise that you're trying to think of one. No idea will be ridiculed, we're all just brainstorming here. The winner will receive a secret, yet to be announced prize. Probably something lying around my house or if you're lucky a gluten-free baked good. And of course my eternal gratitude 'n stuff.

Talula Plays the Hula ain't got nuthin' on me,

khop