Prologue:

As you may recall, a few weeks ago I set out to write a brief series on dating Jewish women. It was a flop. Having written out two of three parts I realized that the ending just wasn’t there, but rather than let the proverbial turd lay, I figured I would take another stab at it… figuratively. This time I figured I would take a different approach, reverse the polarity so to speak, so without further set up, let us dive right in.

Part I: The Truth About Dating a Neurotic Jewish Atheist: It’s not you, it’s me… and also my mother… but mostly me.

I was born in the former Soviet Union, though I remember almost none of it. I arrived on the shores of the US at the tender age of 5 and did not realize I was unprepared for girls until the ripe age of 13. My first girlfriend (who is now happily married with a rather large family) was a freckled little redheaded Jew. Our relationship consisted of her cooking me eggs after school every day for two months. I am not sure if I can trace my egg addiction back to this moment, but she did make really good sunny side up eggs.

I was never truly comfortable in my first relationship. For starters I really wanted to date her friend (and later found out she really wanted to date me) and I just wasn’t really into the idea of having a girlfriend. Even at a young age I loved the idea of romance much more than I loved the execution of it. That is why romantic comedies are the perfect length, 2 hours is just long enough to fall in love with the characters and wish them a happy life. Any longer than that, and you end up hoping for some drama and excitement to end the monotony of it all. Clearly I should not be giving dating advice.

I am neurotic, I am arrogant, and I am insanely self-deprecating, it takes people about two hours to get sick of that too. Whenever I find a lady that I truly like to spend time with I am perpetually rattling off a list of faults.

List of faults:
1.) I am out of shape. I suppose a rhombus is a shape, but I have never heard anyone say “I’d fuck that rhombus.”
2.) I whine all the time, about everything.
Date: Isn’t it great out today?
Me: Why is it so fucking sunny?
3.) I am 30 years old, it is a Wednesday at 10:55pm and the desk that I am writing this on currently has crumbs from THREE different ramen packets, with not one but TWO variations of soy sauce and a half-finished bottle of whiskey, which I fully intend to finish.
4.) I have all the qualities of Peter Pan, except I live in reality, can’t fly, have no arch nemesis, and have not aged well. Actually, I have none of the qualities of Peter Pan aside from being a childish buffoon.
5.) I constantly ask any girl that I like “Why are you with this?” frantically gesturing to myself as if she just hasn’t put it all together yet. Like a puzzle you are excited about doing, but when you finally open the box find that there is cat turd inside.
6.) I have a healthy (read: unhealthy) relationship with my family.*

There are more, many more…

Part II: Honesty… The Best Policy?

Recently a friend of mine told me that I should always be honest, and that people desire honesty.

BULLSHIT!

No one wants actual honesty, they want the lie that sounds true and benign, something that makes them feel like they have heard the truth, but is also directly in line with their view of events.

The Truth:
Well you see, I really like you, so I find myself constantly questioning my self-worth when you opt to spend time with other people over me. Realistically I have no reason to be jealous of your friends, but because there is something wrong with my brain chemistry I can’t actually process emotions like that. So instead let me ask you 15 more times why you prefer the company of this person to me.

The Lie:
It’s awesome to see you, I know you are super busy, thanks for finding a few hours to hang out.

When asked to be honest, you should lie (unless it is inconsequential) and never stop lying. People are happier with the lie, they just want to pretend that they always want to know the truth. People say things like “If you sleep with someone else I want to know.” but no one has ever thanked anyone for their sexual honesty. Lying is at the center of every healthy relationship. I however, and I know this is coming as a shock to no one, am not healthy. As such I have taken a pledge of abject honesty. I will be telling the truth in my dating life no matter how stupid it is in an attempt to see if in fact there is a benefit. I will probably give up this experiment shortly after I realize no one will fuck an honest guy…

So I was finishing this post while recovering from a hangover inside a hangover, when a friend I was supposed to meet up with canceled on me, and I randomly asked an OKCupid date if she wanted to meet up tonight. She said she did, but was in the neighborhood right now, so was it possible to meet in five minutes. I decided what better time to test out my new policy. We had a lovely conversation over drinks where I had told her of my recent pact, as well as the fact that I am driven to date by narcissism and a love of sex but… I forgot to mention the blog. Fuck. Oh well there’s a learning curve right?

Stay tuned for my next post entitled: Why lying is the best way to avoid a black eye.

*Further clarification: My mother reads this blog.

Hi Mom, how’s it going? How’s Cape Cod?

For the most part she really likes it. She has suggested to some of her friends that they also should check out this blog.

Hi other close family friends and relatives, hope life is treating you well, don’t forget to scroll back to the post about writers block where I discuss pornography.