Letters from the Lunar Outpost

The heart of the envious is gall and bitterness; his tongue spitteth venom; the success of his neighbour breaketh his rest. He sitteth in his cell repining; and the good that happeneth to another, is to him an evil. Hatred and malice feed upon his heart, and there is no rest in him.
- Akhenaton?, Egyptian King and Monotheist (c. B.C. 1375)

online dating

condomI found a pretty funny website in the final hours of my post-Thanksgiving turkey haze, it’s called The A(n)nals of Online Dating.

While I’m no longer active in the online dating scene, I still found quite a few good laughs reading through some of the posts there.

You can think of the blog as a “what not to do” for men and online dating. Here’s a one-line example of the creepy, piggish messages some men send to women at online dating sites, the post title and the commentary at the end from our helpful blogger.

Is this your patented “Three-Second Slam” I’ve heard so much about?

I wouldn’t mind putting a rubber on and slamming you from behind.


+4 for safety first!

+2 because “rubber,” really? Are you going to shag me with a rubber before we smoke some dope? DAD GET OFF THE INTERNET.

+7 for his sexy offer to “slam” you. From behind. What vagina doesn’t get a little smiley when it hears it’s about to get “slammed”?

+3 because this guy is for sure awesome in bed. If he’s busy tonight, I’ll just lay face-down in a construction site and ask one of the workers to set a jackhammer on my back. Basically the same thing. Ladies love it.

+4 because this will be such good brunch talk with my girlfriends the next day (INSIDER INFO: Girls love brunch). When we go to brunch after fucking guys like this, we always say things like, “It was just so sexy when I was staring at the ceiling while he humped away like a deranged rabbit” and “It was SO ADORABLE the way he blew his load in three minutes and then asked, ‘Did you come?’ as if that was possible in any universe ever.” Boys! Gotta love ‘em!


source: The A(n)nals of Online Dating

I love her scoring system.

The part that really got my attention though was her second line in reply:

“rubber,” really? Are you going to shag me with a rubber before we smoke some dope? DAD GET OFF THE INTERNET.

Oh wow, are you kidding me? Because I’m wracking my brain here and “rubber” is the only word I can think of for it other than “condom”, and that word only gets used on news reports or in sixth grade sex ed classes.

That really drives me nuts though, because now I’m thinking, I’d hate to be so old that there’s some other popular term for a rubber now that’s going around and I’m totally oblivious to it. I’m being serious too, because while I’ve opted out of the teen / 20-something, cutting edge of pop culture – I’ve never seen a Twilight movie, if you asked me to name as many American Idol winners as I can, I could only give you maybe two (Carrie Underwood? Ryan Seacrest?) and when I’m at Daily Mail reading political articles, I only recognize about half the celebs on the gossip links on the right-hand side – but lingo is a different thing! Lingo is my language! Language is my life!

So if I’m telling some story about my younger days and if I say something about going to the liquor store to by some rubbers, is that really dating me as much as if I were talking about “shagging” and “smoking dope”? Sure, I’m old enough to be a dad, but I don’t want to sound like one.

I’m wracking my brain here . . .

I remember my cousin had been in a band that toured the world and when I first started playing in a band that had a good following, he gave me some advice on groupies and life on the road:

“No glove, no love.”

Four simple words and very good advice, but outside of that context, I don’t think anyone goes around saying, “Do you have your glove on?” or “Oh shit, I ran out of love gloves.”

Help me out in the comments on this one, because for the life of me, I can’t think of any other word for it than “rubber” and it’s driven me to distraction.

UPDATE: Check out how this post got me suspended on Twitter.

Click here to subscribe and never miss out!


The last time I was single was about eight years ago, and in that time, online dating had evolved from a strange and somewhat freakish curiosity to a widespread phenomenon. All the while, I was on the outside, just watching the television commercials.

I can remember way back when, being single, all the nights going to bars and clubs . . . on a good night, you’d get one or two or, if you were really lucky, maybe three phone numbers, but more often than not, I remember going home with nothing but a hollow feeling and the need for a cold shower . . .

So on my newfound status as a single man, I figured, hey, it’s time to check out this world of online dating and all the eHarmony’s and match.com’s. Well hot damn, I have to tell you, I absolutely love this online dating thing! In a matter of days, I’m swimming in contacts with nice-looking girls and I’m having so much fun with so many nice phone calls from the women I’ve met having joined a couple of these websites.

One of the websites I signed up at is arablounge.com. Yeah, as crazy as my ex was, I have to admit that she really piqued my appetite for Middle Eastern cuisine.

I guess the thought of a white guy who really digs on Middle Eastern women must be intriguing, because not only am I sending out “flirts” with quite a few women, but quite a few are seeking me out from my profile as well. After a few phone calls, I’m feeling really comfortable with one woman in particular there, so we agree to meet down in El Cajon at the transit center where they have a trolley there that cruises around downtown San Deigo.

I spotted her in the parking lot from what seemed like half-a-mile away, with those big gorgeous blonde and brunette curls of hers.


Yes, she looks so sad, doesn’t she? I vowed that I would do whatever it takes to put a smile on her face.

So we meet in the parking lot, I’m thinking we’re going to hop on a trolley and cruise downtown and see the sights play it by ear, but she says, “Hey, here’s the bus to Barona Casino, why don’t we go?” We were both hungry and she said, “They have a really nice buffet there.”

So I say, “Sure, I’ve never been to Barona. Yeah, let’s go check it out.”

So we’re sitting on the bus, and her first words to me are, “Do you like me?”

I’m thinking, what the fuck? But I say, “Yeah sure, I like you. Do you like me?”

“Ah . . . you’re okay.”

What the FUCK?

So right off the bat, this is going kind of badly, and after that first exchange, she starts proving herself to be the kind of woman whose favorite topic is herself. I try to get a word in edgewise and she’s just steamrolling me, so after a while of this, I ask her if all she wants to do is hear herself talk, or if she might want to listen just a little bit too, so we could actually have a conversation. And to my surprise, she heard what I was saying and we started having a little bit more give and take in the conversation from that point.

As badly as it started, after the 40 minute bus ride to the casino, there were some smiles and laughter and I was starting to feel maybe once you crack through the self-absorption and too cool for you veneer, there’s a woman worth getting to know underneath.

So we roll into the casino, and at the very sound of DING, DING, DING, DING, DING, and the coins falling into the hopper, I look in her eyes and they’re as big as saucers! She’s a fucking woman possessed! The next hour is spent with her explaining to me the strategies of playing the slots (as if there is such a thing) and her telling me that when she first came to Barona, she won a thousand dollars and a couple thousand more the second time but ever since then, she’d lost tens of thousands because they only let you win the first couple times and then you’re on surveillance (or the machines know you, depending on which version she was telling) and that she can’t win there any more. (In other words, she’s a full subscriber to the conspiracy theory side of the typical beginner’s luck tale.) And once again, I’m thinking, “Ah, this date is taking a turn for the worse.”

So we both lose $20 to the slots fairly quickly and I’m already over it, but now she wants me to play her $20, and lo and behold, I crank that thing up to $140 and at this point, I’m completely over the slots and so I say let’s cash out and get some food, but she’s all, “No, no, keep playing. It’s your first time here. You’re going to win the big jackpot!”

I say okay, but let’s set a limit, we’re already up from to $140 from $20, if we slip back down to $100, let’s cash out and have some fun.

Well, she vetoed that idea (it was her $20 after all) and she kept telling me “play, play, play” and next thing you know the money’s gone and I turn around and there she is playing on another machine!

Great, my first post-marriage date, first woman besides my wife that I’ve been out with in eight years and I hook up with a straight up gamble-aholic. I practically had to drag her out of the casino, so on the one hand, I’m thinking, two compulsive people, this must be a match made in hell, but on the other hand, I’m thinking, you know, I’ve had my own problems with moderation, so how can I hold it against her?

But after I had her safely out of the casino, once again we’re enjoying each other’s company and we’re really hitting it off even more.

How strange it is to be dating again. When was the last time I felt my heart pounding in my chest like that as I leaned over to give my date a kiss for the first time? (Probably eight years ago.) No knock against the married life, not at all, something deeper and lasting is infinitely more profound than the first kiss on a first date . . . but to have been hopeless for so long, it was great to know that there’s still happiness out there in this world for me to pursue.

So to cut to the ending, after a couple more stops and another bus ride round-trip to yet another casino (yeah, she talked me into it again, but she wasn’t as compulsive this time) we disembark and head back to where she’s parked and I mention how it’s been a long night (it was about 3 am at this point) and I’m dreading that hour and a half drive back to my place, and I tell her I’m going to get a hotel room and as improbable as it was, as much of a sweet, sincere, honest Chaldean woman as she is (Iraqi Christian with the most old-world chastity you can imagine) somehow I convince her that I’m such a nice guy, that I’m so much not the kind of guy to force myself on anyone, that she says okay, and we get a hotel room! YEAH, BABY! First date after the marriage and I get this beautiful Iraqi girl into a hotel room with me! SCORE! *


* Yeah okay, the asterisk is there because I should qualify that “SCORE” with the fact that I was only able to get the hotel room on her insistence that it be a double and not a single! LOL! Okay, so I didn’t totally score, in fact, I respect her all the more so because of it, but it was so much fun. I’d come over to her bed, we’d make out a little bit, my hands would get a little too frisky, and she’d tell me it was time for me to go over to my bed. Okay, okay, okay . . . This happened a couple of times and it was light-hearted and fun and we ended up having another hour in our seperate beds having the kind of soul-sharing conversation that only happens when the room is pitch black and you’re staring up into the fathomless depths of the ceiling. It was a wonderful evening, all in all.

And I realized how good it is to be alive and have another chance at love.

Click here to subscribe and never miss out!

Currently Listening To:

Team of Rivals
Doris Kearns Goodwin