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<editorsnote> Hi, I'm Jen Friel, and we here at TNTML examine the lives of nerds outside of the basements and into the social media, and dating world.  We have over 75 peeps that write about their life in real time. (Real nerds, real time, real deal.) Sit back, relax, and enjoy some of the stories!! </editorsnote>

 

 

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Entries in moment of wtf (65)

Friday
Aug122011

#WTF: Kevin's Kephalonomancy is Kontagious

Geek Chic et Moi (Part III-2 - THE DARKEREST SIDE): KEVIN HERMAN AND THE BREASTLY SHALLOWS - THE (I PROMISE) FINAL BATTLE.

<editorsnote> Nerds, meet Kevin. I found him on craigslist, kinda like how I found that half eaten bag of pretzels, and last Friday's booty call. Casual encounters, FTW! He's hilarious, and smart ... and little elves dance in his footprints as he walks. For the record, I've made two of those facts up. </editorsnote>

#TalkNerdyToMeLover's Kevin Herman

[Part I; Part II]
[continued from Part III-I]

I’m far from being a thundering ocean of self-confidence; if anything I’m more akin to a sippy-cup covered in errant chunks of infant vomit. Consistently ballsed up attempts at woo-age didn’t help that. The tendency to ‘settle’ seemed, then, to be the cornerstone of my real life dating strategy - one dictated far more by necessity than lax standards. But given how effortless it had been to grab the attention of some fucking badass chicks online and so *quickly* at that, a switch flipped and I found myself sitting with a shit eating grin on the opposite end of the spectrum, intoxicated with over-inflated confidence and likewise deluded about the extent of my ‘new found powers’  and thus the tool used to expedite and facilitate the dating process for young, busy folk became instead a search engine for ‘the one’ whose profile I was *sure* lurked just around the corner and that by golly, I had the strong jaw and verbal leverage to win her over.

By this mentality, I’d be remiss to go for these girls (who in real life were still *way* above my normal threshold) and settle for anything less than “perfection.” Obviously, this was a very wrong and wholly unjustified attitude to have, what with chasing the proverbial dragon - but there were more subtle processes in play that contributed to the stagnation and ultimate abandonment of my online adventure.

Ironically, several of the same classes mentioned in part III-1 also cited a watershed study published in 2000 (commonly referred to as ‘The Jam Study’) by a management professor at Columbia and a psychology professor at Stanford that basically confirmed the commonsense view that ‘less is more’ with regards to choice. There were a lot of different trials and conditions, but the biggie that most people tout as “the point” is that when presented with either 6 jams or 24 jams to purchase from, people in the 24-jam condition were *ten times less likely* to make a decision at all, and even if they did *they were consistently less satisfied with their choice than those who’d picked from the 6 jams*. Furthermore, the indecision/dissatisfaction only continued to get worse with each additional choice tacked on.

So yeah - imagine a dating site like OKC as...I mean, really the most literal manifestation of ‘the dating market.’ Also assume you have plenty of what we’ll call “buying power” or “social currency” or something, and attractive prospects are the analogous jam. Aaaand in this particular type of market, you’re not dealing with 6, or 24, or even 30 jams --- there are potentially *hundreds* of jams sitting on the shelves, with new jams “signing up” and blinking into existence at a jarring (ZIIIIING!) rate.

Unless you have Jen’s brass-balled resolve and übermenschlich energy to systematically go through and actually give a staggeringly high proportion a shot, there’s a *really good* chance your decisional abilities will just freeze and you’ll pick none. And even should you finally settle on one of a bajillion sexy jams to go on a date or two with, again, there’s a good chance that the “what if?” aspect of every other prospective jam may knock your sense of satisfaction down a few pegs, and in turn the lower satisfaction may be mistaken for *confirmation* that someone “more satisfying” is out there among the other choices, causing you to abandon your current pursuit --- it’s a ridiculously vicious, self-sabotaging cycle.

I mentioned before that no one “jumped out at me” or gave me the impetus to move forward with them, and there are a few theories that make me go lightbulb about why. One that I found really intriguing was put forth about experiential vs. search goods to explain why online dating can be unsatisfying for many (I’m not going to explain it, just check out the link/video if you’re physically dying of curiosity) - but there’s a more recent study that I think handily deals with that disappointing lack of romantic ‘oomph’ in both my online excursion as well as my dating life at large. And it all boils down to expectations.

Whenever I’m put in a situation where the ‘pursuit of romance’ is the express and active purpose - like a blind date, first date, or accosting someone online for a date - said ‘pursuit’ seems to fizzle out after a few dates assuming it doesn’t just hit a brick wall on Date #1. The few times something *has* evolved into an actual relationship has been totally accidental and with no initial romantic intentions; relationships that happened only in the absence of thought about relationships. This sounds familiar, I’m sure - people fucking love the cliché that you’ll find love when you’re least expecting it - and oddly, there seems to actually be some scientific weight behind it.

It’s pretty simple: if you do something with the lofty expectation and purpose that it *will* foster happiness (through love for instance), not feeling immediately as elated or awesome as you’d hoped can almost always make you feel *even worse* than before. Basically, dating prodigious numbers of people with manic gusto is totally kosher as long as you’re saying ‘que sera, sera’ (and congrats - you are far more courageous and fun-loving than I); but if you’re in a place where you’re *seriously banking on it* bringing you love and consequently happiness - there’s a decent chance you’ve already cognitively fucked yourself out of that being the outcome. (← Ahhh, this sounds much more my speed.)

Strongly anticipating happiness from something is ironically one of the best ways to prevent it from providing just that. Happiness does its own autonomous thang, yo; last time I was all, “Hey Happiness, I’m gonna do this thing and you’re gonna meet me right after, kay?” it just walked up, put a cigarette out on my forehead, and walked away.

In the end, after three weeks of obsessively OKCing and becoming more and more single minded about what I wanted to get out of it (aka - a soul-mate wife co-captain harbinger of happiness person) I shut the whole operation down. For a lot of people, a dating site like OKC can only help, but I realized that for someone like me, it just hyperfocused my relationship-sabotaging neuroses into a single outlet. Since project’s end I’ve just kind of drifted along, dabbling casually in things of a romantic nature without me saddling them with what I now know are self-destructive emphases and expectations. Just having fun, enjoying myself, and feeling a billion times better and more comfortable. If something comes about, so be it, and if not - *shrugs* - meh. Knowing what I know now, maybe I’ll even give OKCupid another shot in the future and do it “right.”

Or maybe I’ll just succumb to cholesterol from my latest phase of foodie-adventures revolving around the best burgers I can find in Los Angeles and die in a greasy ball of delicious glory.

Either way, in the words of Hank Moody:

“The sun is chirping, the birds are shining, the water's wet. Life is good, sweetheart. Life is good.”

#nerdsunite

For more of Kevin’s politically incorrect verbal incontinence, follow him on Twitter or check out his like, completely legitimate astrological operation at Fiehard.

Wednesday
Aug102011

#WTF: Kevin's Kephalonomancy is Kontagious

Geek Chic et Moi (Part III-1 - THE DARKEREST SIDE): The THRILLING(ly Tepid) ALMOST-CONCLUSION (or) Neurotic Fun With Online Dating!

<editorsnote> Nerds, meet Kevin. I found him on craigslist, kinda like how I found that half eaten bag of pretzels, and last Friday's booty call. Casual encounters, FTW! He's hilarious, and smart ... and little elves dance in his footprints as he walks. For the record, I've made two of those facts up. </editorsnote>

#TalkNerdyToMeLover's Kevin Herman

[Part Un; Part Deux]
[Note: Pulling a Deathly Hallows on this shit as Part III is currently pushing 2300+ words, so...here’s Part III-1, to be followed soonish by Part III-2]


I first breathed life, prose, and deceptively flattering photos into the annals of OKCupid hot on the heels of five or six unsuccessful forays into the world of dating and romance in as many months. I’d originally settled on a time-out, a period of unadulterated “me” time to seriously reevaluate my approach when it came to selection and courtship, when my bffl casually suggested I give OKC a shot.

Her reasoning was that when approaching women in a bar or other public space, my tendency to get nervous, stammer, and ultimately give way to shrieking like a rabid howler monkey in wide-eyed terror (frothing uncontrollably and soiling myself in the worst case scenario) could be unsettling to women, and even if they were impressed/terrified by my animalistic displays of dominance and lack of medication enough to give me their number, I *definitely* did not possess the skills or confidence to coax that thread into even the infant stages of dating. A lot of this stemmed from my being really wary of dumping what was for me an INSANE amount of effort and energy into puttin’ the proverbial moves on someone I wasn’t even sure I would be compatible (see part 1) with to start.

I’m deathly allergic to uncertainty and ambiguity - two things that I’m sure you’re all aware are the basic flora and fauna of the dating world. My bffl pointed out the obvious - online dating eliminates a *lot* of this. Yes, people may add an inch (heh), shave a year, or pad their income a bit, but contrary to the popular wisdom that every other hot chick is a bald 40 year old dude covered in a fine layer of cheeto dust and dry semen, studies have shown that the comfortable anonymity afforded by the degree of separation actually causes folks to be more honest and forthright about the important shit.

I probably would’ve written the idea off entirely, but the suggestion happened to coincide with the death throes of my undergrad career, a time in which an oddly high proportion of my classes happened to be discussing the mainstream acceptance of online dating and research done to date, as well as the completion of my senior thesis - a 42 page qualitative study on romantic behaviors and beliefs of bar and coffee shop patrons; it was long and convoluted, but for our purposes, the take home point was that should your social or work circles fail to provide a sacrificial lamb for your emotional antagonism, the online market is your best bet.

Sooo...yeah, my life had basically become a living Match.com ad complete with statistics and testimonials. Combine all that with the fact that - let’s face it: you may have noticed that I’m a retardedly verbose motherfucker, and being charming in *digestible* sound bytes seems like an important ability in making a good first impression on a hot stranger. It’s like verbal hot potato - the “moment” gets exponentially more awkward with each additional second you continue speaking, and I am supreme allied commander of letting the awkward grenade go off in my hand.

But online, that’s not necessarily the case. Online, that enormous liability can actually be levied as a geeky honey pot to those you want to attract and terrifying textual minefield to those you don’t. My lexophilia borders on the pathological; it uncomfortably toes the line of being a fetish. I wasn’t entirely kidding on my profile when I wrote “it’s a short jump between wordplay and foreplay for me.” Actually I was mostly kidding - but I do find wit to be crazy sexy, and the ability to turn a phrase to denote wit, so...er...okay, maybe not kidding. If a girl doesn’t place a premium on literacy and the wherewithal to string cogent sentences together (in a guy), she’s probably not for me and conversely, I’m probz not for her.

Point is - my novella length profile was a pretty accurate presentation of who I am, what I like, and how I typically express both those things: with lots of words and haphazard metaphors. At its most basic, sure - it was a laundry list of basic info and interests - but more importantly it was written so that in theory someone who digs wordplay, reading, and my *specific* geeky interests as much as I do would hopefully enjoy it and respond in kind with some arousingly witty banter and ideally an offer for pre-coital Mario Kart or Borderlands. All that compatibility, uncertainty, and wasted effort bullshit I was so worried about? Boom. OKC obviated the *shit* out of it.

Aaand after two days nothing happened.

The bffl recommended that maybe I try a picture that was more “smiley” and less “hollow psychopath,” which I hesitantly did, and *sweet rabbit balls*: It was like opening the proverbial floodgates, and really quickly I had more messages/responses from h0t n3rd grrlz waxing eloquently geeky with suggestive undertones than I knew what to do with. I’d gone from “real life” where I’d be lucky to come across the geeky/attractive/interested-in-me combo once in the span of a year at best to entering this...like...Bonertopia Per Nerdium in googly eyed wonder. And really, from that point on, the utopia parallel applied quite nicely.

“Hi, my name is Kevin, I’m 24, and I enjoy laughter & yoga!” Except it was more like the Bioshock “Rapture” kind of utopia in which, unfettered by societal constraints and granted the opportunity to demonstrate its previously suppressed greatness, man’s true nature instead kind of skullfucked the pooch and twisted the noble idea into something amorally twisted and dark. The entire timeline of which I managed to condense emotionally into a 3 week period from the innocent-kid-in-a-candy-store vibe to the figurative writhing mass of murder, insanity and decay.

I mean, in reality it’s slightly less fucked up than it sounds. In the right hands and right attitude, OKC has enormous power as a tool to find like-minded young folk you may otherwise never cross paths with. I think I went into it with the right stuff, but the relative ease with which options just up and availed themselves...uh...awoke something in me. Something *dark*. The people that had gotten in touch were almost all very cool, many of whom were also very definitely attractive. Still, none quite...*jumped* out at me - and this is how something snapped and I went from plainly grateful that the community was so receptive to going full goddamn J.S. Steinman.

To be continued...



#nerdsunite

For more of Kevin’s politically incorrect verbal incontinence, follow him on Twitter or check out his like, completely legitimate astrological operation at Fiehard.

Saturday
Jul302011

Weird Al Says: #WTF?!

Alexander Graham Bell, the inventor of the telephone, could never call his own wife or mother because they were both deaf. 

This has been a moment of ... WTF?!

Monday
Jul112011

Weird Al Says: #WTF?!

Ancient Babylonians took their beer so seriously that if someone made a bad batch, they would be drowned in it.

This has been a moment of ... WTF?!

Friday
Jul012011

Weird Al Says: #WTF?!

Millions of years ago, giant shrimp used to be the largest predators in the ocean.

This has been a moment of ... WTF?!