How Do You Hurt Me? Let Me Count The Ways.

As most of us are already aware, nothing makes you feel better about yourself than someone else's pain other than the chance to mock that pain.

When I am feeling particularly sorry for myself, (which is oh, I don't know, daily,) I read the blog of a young lady named Binky. Now Binky is encountering a few obstacles along the highway of love and has had a hard time finding someone who will stick around longer than a Go Daddy commercial.

And before you get started, there is nothing to indicate there is anything wrong with Binky other than the apparent mental instability of her parents in their choice of names for their children.

I'm the self appointed reality check for Binky or perhaps better put, as the creator of context. So when she decides to go on another one of her alcohol fueled diatribes against the male portion of our species, (a species which in itself has more failings than George Bush's college transcript,) I step in with my embittered interpretation of her troubled love life which in turn lays bare The Nuclear Winter Of My Own Discontent.

Below is a portion of of Binky's post of Wednesday, January 28th 2009 entitled:
I Used to Miss Him...But my Aim is Improving...

In this post is a list of resolutions intended to serve as a milestone. An admirable endeavor that all of us undertake at different times in our lives. But we rarely see the reality that lies behind these resolutions.

That's where I come in to provide context to these lofty aspirations.

Binky's writings are in blue.

Let's get started shall we.


1. The Male Friend that you have Zero interest in Dating
“I have acquired the most sought out gift of all, the male friend. He's attractive, he's witty and is actually a Shrink by profession. And there is no sexual chemistry between us at all.”

Don't kid yourself. The two of you just haven't been drunk enough, horny enough, or both at the same time yet. This is the eventuality of all platonic friendships. Nature hates a void.

2. The Bucket List
“...a Bucket List is essentially a list of things you want to do before you, well, kick the bucket.”

Life is far too overrated, and has never lived up to it's advertiser's claims. If I could, I get a refund and an apology.

3. No More Online Dating. EVER
“It took dating disaster #12 to get me off of online dating. ...I am completely online dating-free.”

Or at least until you are starved enough for human contact other than the platonic friend you haven't had sex with yet. Nature hates a void. Do we see a pattern developing? You should be better at spotting these by now.

4. Meetup.com
“...now keep in mind that this is NOT a dating site. Take my word for it, it's a great way to meet like-minded dorks like myself. “

Great. Speed dating without the sex. Oh, sign me up.

5. Speeddating
“Speed Dating is how I met my Shrink Friend...Hmmm...Do you think that means something?”

Great. A series of one night stands without the sex. Garçon, my check and call me a cab.

6. Happy Homebuyer
“As another effort to distract myself from the disaster that was Mr. Sergeant and I's quasi-relationship, I am trying to diligently throw myself into planning my new home!”

Owning your own home will eventually become the same mood adjuster that a trip to the grocery is.
Walking down endless aisles with florescent lighting bright enough to make the sun jealous. Every song the Musac system pukes out -Even if it's Billy Idol's Rebel Yell- drags you deeper in to the black hole of lonely solitude living inside you. You're still fucked. You're still alone. The house just has better lighting and you get to pick your own songs.

7. Something Shiny
“I've been making an effort to treat myself for the past couple of weeks... Pamper yourself. if you dont, who will? “

Wine bottle. Shiny. Problem solved. Save a few bucks. You'll need it to buy more bottles.

8. Denial
“Yes, I am in denial. I try not to think about how right now he's probably talking to his new conquest."

Fuck it. It's been working for me since the fourth grade why change now?


The fact is, that with few exceptions (namely the women I date,) we all want a love to call our own. A love with a secret only the two of you can see. It's knowing that we are special to someone above all others. It lets you feel them hold your hand from across a room full of people. It reminds you everyday that you're not alone. It makes you feel safe.

I wish I could make it more poetic but love, real love is not poetic. It's hard and it's sharp and it cuts deeper than any knife Bryan Adams can croon about. (Good record though.) The only promise it keeps is that it will hurt. And yeah, it has all that squishy good stuff writers usually put in right about here.

But you know about the good and the bad already,

Whatr' you gonna do?

Keep The Faith.

Visit: 1000 Of Celibacy