(sigh) So even feminist dudes suck, eh? I gotta stop reading the inta'net, it is turning me into a misanthrope.

here's MK's special recipe for people-hating and confirming your worst fears that in each and every interaction a gal has with a dude, she is being played:

1. Consume 3/4 of a bottle of wine, preferably red, preferably cheap
2. Go to www.askmen.com
3. Check out the "Top 99 Women" (who are all dippy models and actresses, most of whom you have never heard of because they have a great rack but their acting ability is such that they are barely movie-of-the-week material. Note that there is not a single smart _and_ sexy one in the bunch)
4. Then read all the columns on "Dating and Love", particularly the ones entitled "Are All Women Liars?", "Can Beautiful Women Be Trusted?", "8 Ways to Keep the Upper Hand", "14 Ways to Ease Her Nagging", and many other gems, too many to list here
5. Sigh in despair, give up on humanity (for the fifth time this week), pass out next to couch clutching now empty wine bottle
6. Wake up at 1 pm the next day
7. Start your day with a cup of black coffee and the following Google query: "convents + [your local area]"

I am developing a new social methodology that assumes that if the choice is playing or being played, I am damn well going to be a player.

Results so far:

1. This does not work on so-called "feminist men." Good enough.

2. Actually, men are more sensitive than you think. Especially the nice ones . . .

3. Sometimes it feels bad to feel like a player.

Preliminary conclusion:
It's better than being played, but being a player is not all it's cracked up to be.

MK, can I have some misanthropy lessons?

Player, played.... it's all too awful. Both sexes are guilty. Askmen.com makes me want to punch people (or drunkenly do convent searches), iVillage (the women's version - much milder, much more subtle manipulation, more ladylike, I guess) makes me want to eat an entire bottle of Tylenol 3s.

The trouble seems to be that lots of people are trying to be players at the same time, resulting in highly complicated levels of playing. I had (and have) some friends and acquaintances who felt like real players in one situation or another, and ended up getting played. It's not pretty. The game itself is fucked. Whatever happened to people just digging each other and not dating-as-social-climbing or looking for someone to bankroll them or looking for someone who insists she doesn't care if she comes or not or looking for someone who never challenges them, in any way, shape, or form?

Now, at 28, I try to hold out for the honest interactions, that seem to come around once every few years or so. Makes me boring? Sure. Makes me saner? I think so. I'm getting too old for this shit. A whiff of "game" and I hand in my helmet.

Hey all

I am presently in the T-dot and last night I had this stange experience of going to a party and meetings all sorts of tarannahs some of whom I went to high school and youth group with way back in the day.

What was weird was that it was a total toronto part - ie not so queer/lots of bad music - some guy playing a sitar over breakbeats and making the face like that guitar player from snl in the early -mid nineties. You know the face that says; either i am playing some kick-ass sitar or I am taking a dump, you have no idea which one..

Anyways, like any party in the GTA of my youth there was much girl on guy chatting-up happening and every time I spoke with a guy ( always it was a guy - buh) they would end up revealing that they were my age, but that they had just moved back home and were working in some small capacity peddling dope and maybe perfecting their firespinning. Or something like that, i lost track after a while.

I met the younger brother of the hottest guy in youth group (circa 1993). Younger brother was my age but running around the party with pooh-dreads and a pair of ill-fitting army pants /no shirt. When the sitar started he rolled his eyes and made all sorts of body language gestures meant to imply "transcendental experience being had here."

There was a keg - from which I was forced to get beer - humiliating at best - and at some point while near the keg I heard two dudes discussing some awesome band called the gay trolls no joke.

Now the girls at the party were all 21 years old. Need I say more.

So player or playing or played I would rather hang in a convent and get that awesome job where I get to stare at various types of pornography before having to set fire to it as my contribution to the crusade for christ.

Oh yeah and there was a guy with long blond hair in a ponytail and serious black commando pants, the legs of which were tied by long black strings together at the back.

He spent a lot of time talking to one of the 21 year olds about the narcotic chemicals that were directly responsible for his immense capacity for self knowledge in a totally fake odd european accent. I was eavesdropping which is pretty ,much the only thing that prevented me from trying to drop-kick action-pants in the neck.

What's my point. Probably that i will have to reclaim my virgin status and retire from the public realm completely before i actually start telling people what i think of them. The three tylenols sound like a good idea.

*Also* what was I thinking coming back here to do my masters I will start dressing like a fucking tool. It's in the water or something.
There was a girl on the metro wearing a pair of dark black tights with a sheer white flower printed summer skirt over them -WTF even I know that's a bad deal.

re: games, I am all about the game but I want someone who is going to play it like i do, and apparently most people don't. they prefer to play with their firesticks and talk about enlightenment through pharmacology.

{end rant}

ps: Yes I am mean. Actually I had a pretty good time, I just left more convinced than ever that I will be single until I meet some retired physicist at a pinochle tournement when I am 92 and we fall madly in love over matching 7 day pill containers.

Dude, you gotta let me hook you up with better parties when you are in the T-dot. Seriously.

Oh my dear lord miriam. How do you find these parties? First the jagermeister, now this. How about we all just educate ourselves to the nth degree at various institutions of our choice, and become over-qualified careerist ladies who don't have to worry about playing/played/player, because we're so fucking smart we don't even need to blink anyomore. How bout it? The other choice is mk's tylenol 3's.

Tylenol 3's with a Jagermeister chaser. Yum.

Ruth read this post and she says that she thinks we were at different parties so maybe I was over-reacting a little.

I think i have realized that what has to happen at base, is that we have to either reserve judgement or at worst impair judgement (ie: T3's and jager in alternating doses) so that eventually the firespinners start to look appealing.

You know what, it's like summer camp. when you arrive any possible partner looks like a troll, but eventually you're going steady with the fella you said looked like alfred e newman, because there isn't anyone else. There's only one planet (so far), so it's firespinners or nothing.

Oh and let me assure you -- I am talking about firespiners on all sides of the gender continuum - it's depressing to be a homo and still feel like life is all about the slim-pickings.

The other option is the convent- Btw. I was at Jerusalem restaurant with the Ruth family and we actually saw a Nun come in to pick up a falafel. She was from some crazy sect and her habit was a nice electric blue with a giant flaming cross stictchd onto the sleeve. Under the habit she was wearing royal blue thermal pants and very pratical soloman hiking boots, there's someone who probably has some great stories to tell.