Dating Tuesday: Charles and Star

Today is Dating Tuesday. And in dating news today, Charles Manson is going to marry a 26-year-old. He's 80 years old, and in case you've been sleeping under a tree for 40 years, he's the most famous lunatic of the 20th century, and he's been locked up since the 70's for ordering his cult to murder people, including a pregnant actress. The whole thing was bloody and horrifying by standards of the time, and he wasn't even there, but everybody knows it was his fault.

And now he's marrying a 26-year-old who calls herself Star  and who, other than the X she carved into her forehead to match the swastika carved on his, is a pretty young woman who could probably get a date with someone who's not the age of her great-great grandfather. If she wanted to.

Single people all over the world shared the same thought when they heard the news of this announcement: What the fucking fuck? Charles fucking Manson can get a date in prison, and I can't! What the fuck is wrong with this world? Would I fare better in prison? Do I have to start a cult to get a date in this helter skelter world?

Good fucking question, and one I asked myself too. What does Charles Manson have that I don't? I mean besides that swastika scar front and center in his Botox area.

Let me be clear about one thing: This is not about getting laid. That's not what I mean when I talk about dating. I can get laid any time I want to -- although mostly by married or partnered people. I choose not to .... for reasons of self-preservation. It's not about getting laid for him either, because Charles Manson can't get laid. Or at least not by his youthful fiance. It's against the rules. He gets one hug at the beginning of a visit and one after. Like a first date ... or like I would imagine a first date might go. It's been a while.

I'm also not saying I want to date Charles Manson. Obviously I'm too old for him. I'm used to that though. I'm too old for most men who don't live in a nursing home, and the best I can do is try not to be bitter about it.

I certainly don't want to get married. Not to Crazy Charlie or anybody else. That's the last thing I need. I'm not looking for a commitment when mere honesty is so rare.

It's just that in my secret heart -- and please don't tell anybody I said this -- I would like to date, but the obstacles seem insurmountable. My friends say I'm choosy, and they don't blame me, especially given my past experiences. It's true. I'm not going to get involved with someone who's obviously not right for me just so I can go on a date -- not even so I can write about it here. People's feelings are at stake -- mine being the most important to me.

Well intentioned friends and strangers assure me, with all of the naivete at their disposal, that there's somebody for everybody. And thus, by the rules of "glass half full" logic, somebody is out there for me, and it's only a matter of time before he finds me or I find him. My problem, of course, is that I'm not sending enough positive energy out into the world to attract him to me. I'm letting my past experiences interfere with my use of attraction magic. If I were doing my part by ignoring all the evidence and believing hard enough in this mythical man, I too would be enjoying a healthy, happy relationship like Star and Charlie do.

I'm rambling tonight. I ramble when I talk or write about dating, because I don't want to sound bitter or upset any of you with my pessimism. My friends love to hope for me. Hope that my Charlie is out there and that he will someday find me and make me into a couple again. Because it would be so nice for everybody if I were half of a couple again. But that's another post.

Congratulations, Charles Manson, you sexy old beast you. You've proven without a doubt that the dating world is an insane asylum, and I'm better off buying a dog and creating an imaginary boyfriend who is only attached to me. But if you ever write a dating book, I'll be first in line to buy it, because obviously you've got this shit figured out, old man. If only I had your charisma.

Random thoughts on sex with pit bulls (Not safe for animal-lovers.)

You know how sometimes you'll see an article about a topic, and then you'll see another different article about the same topic, and you think, Hmmm. Maybe I should pay attention to this. And then you see it come up again, and you think, What the hell? Are that many people really fucking pit bulls? And if that many people are getting caught -- because some of them apparently think their backyard is the sexy spot -- how many people are doing it in the privacy of their own homes and nobody ever sees them? And why did I have to see these articles, because now I can't get these images out of my head?

I pay attention to patterns. It's a symptom of obsessive compulsive disorder a hobby of sorts. I'm actually kind of brilliant at it, but there are times when my attention to recurrences leaves me flabbergasted .... and wondering about people who have sex with pit bulls. Like this guy, who wouldn't stop even while his neighbors begged him to because they were so disturbed. Of course, they couldn't look away. Of course they couldn't. Somebody had to bear witness!

And this woman, who apparently had to explain that she was mentally ill ... because that wasn't obvious. And this guy, who got 15 years after his neighbor claimed she caught him twice. At least he wasn't doing it in the backyard, but 15 years? That's a harsher sentence than he would have gotten for raping his neighbor! What the fuck?

I neither appreciate nor do I understand why these pitbull fuckers keep coming (shut up) to my attention. Is this a thing? Is it only pit bulls? Why not poodles? Poodles are pretty. Or golden retrievers? Or old English sheepdogs? Why would a person choose a pit bull out of all the breeds he or she could mate with? Because this, to me, is not a face that says, "Rape me."

This face, in fact, says to me, "If you fuck with me, I will fuck you up. And I can fuck you up. So don't fuck with me, so I don't have to fuck you up." 

I'm not saying I approve of people having sex with pit bulls -- I'd say sex with any dog, but pit bulls seem to be the short-skirt-wearing breed that attracts the crazy fuckers. I don't approve of people having sex with dogs at all, although to be honest, I can't say why. Most of us just agree it's not a good thing to do. On the other hand, if that dog up there was as disturbed as crazy fucker #1's neighbors, crazy fucker #1 would be walking around without a dick, and that dog up there would be licking his lips and asking for dessert. The neighbors might not have been able to stop the guy, but we can be fairly certain the dog could have if it had chosen to.

This reminds me of a story my brother told me about a high school friend of his who was showing off and fucked a pig in front of his friends. Again, not a traditionally sexy animal, although plenty are available in Iowa. But more than that ... listen, forget any PETA-sponsored bullshit you've heard about how Wilbur is cute and cuddly and smarter than a dog. Spiders lie. Hogs are one of the dirtiest, meanest, most disgusting animals on the planet, and their only redeeming quality is bacon. If you don't believe me, you obviously haven't been around pigs enough.

My point is that no pig would stand still for something that caused it discomfort. They're skittish, short-tempered, and they have disproportionately large teeth that they know how to use. They eat their own babies, and they will eat yours too. Pigs can be far more dangerous to people than people are to them, given the chance.

But I'm not advocating that anybody put his penis in one. They're filthy, and we have social mores about crossing that line. We'll kill and eat them, but damn it, nobody ought to poke one. That's just wrong. (Unless the pig is a human dressed up as a pig, but I'll leave the furries alone.)

On the other hand, even that line can be blurry, right? I once had a friend who was a very kinky girl. She encouraged her fancy Himalayan kitty cat to lick her nipples while she masturbated. Often. It doesn't do anything for me (I won't even let a dog lick my hand), but I've heard of far weirder kinks. Was she having sex with her cat? I think that was her intention, but I can't see the harm.

And I have another friend who felt so sorry for her cat when the poor thing was in heat and screaming for some tomcat action, that she gave her kitty some relief with a cotton swab. Surely that was an act of compassion.

I dunno. I can't get over that guy getting 15 years for doing something that didn't seem to bother the dog. I wouldn't say this about a woman, but the dog might have liked it. It certainly had options if it didn't. Like clamping down on any random body part and refusing to let go. Pit bulls can do that.

We have laws against animal abuse for good reasons, but Michael Vick only got 21 months for his vicious treatment of dogs. And the most time a rapist will serve under federal law for drugging his victim first is .... did you guess 15 years? Ding! Ding! Ding! You win a ham sandwich.

Here's what I hope. I hope that by writing about this I will have derailed the sex-with-pit-bulls train that pulled into the station, and something else will catch my attention. It's been a long time since I've written about vaginas, hasn't it? Human vaginas, I mean? I need some attention-seeking vaginas to catch my eye next.

I'm not sure I even want to hit the publish button tonight. No hating!