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And now the thrilling conclusion…Quantum Entropy! – By Mack

The conclusion.

Soooo…this post is about a month and a half over due. Whoops. But better late than never, right? For those who don’t remember you can catch up with the preceding saga here (1) and here (2). Otherwise shorter synopsis: cool, smart, and sexy dorky girl (who we will call Quantum Entropy) I had a connection with and was dating.  However there was a faint hint of of something being “a little off.”

When planning a second date, dinner and drinks simply won’t do. It usually calls for something to wow her, or at least inspire fun. Normally I’d have to rack my brain, but with Quantum, I had the comfort to take it easy. We ended up at an improv show a friend of mine works for. I found myself up on stage giving suggestion to the actors. Some of my suggestions  were so out there one of them stopped and said “really?” I tried to get Quantum to go volunteer (by grabbing her hand and raising it myself) but she punched my arm and playfully called me an ass.

Laughter may not actually be the best medicine, I’m pretty sure it’s an aphrodisiac as we were all over each other at the bar.  About a half a dozen drinks later, we’re stumbling around the streets of New York looking for a Boar’s Head deli. I swear it was the only mile in Manhattan without one. We ended up in a Walgreens for a bottle of water when we passed some inflatable lawn furniture. Quantum chimed in with, “You know there are people who are into balloons. Like for sex.” To which I snapped back, “They’re called ‘looners.’ It’s a fetish.” She gave me a perplexed look. “You’re not into that are you?”

I should have said no. I’m not into balloons or any other kinky fetishes.  But there was something that stuck out to me. Maybe it was a suspicion of a closed mindedness I wanted to challenge. Maybe it was the tone in her voice, the implied condescension. Maybe it was the look on her face of perturbed dissatisfaction. I didn’t think she was unattractive at all, but in that moment she was. So I replied, “What if I was?

“I don’t think I could date you,” she retorted.  I just laughed it off.  But I don’t think I ever answered her.

We ended up going back to her place but upon entering the apartment she warned me that her roommate was a little “weird.” The plump (but not fat) middle aged man, named Dirk, sat at his dinner table with a look of dissatisfaction. I tried, in my own charming manner, to engage him. I’m usually pretty good at winning people over, even the socially inept. He just stared at me and answered my questions with short single syllable responses. “Yes,” “no,” and the dismissive”huh.” Quantum grabbed me, ushering me into her room.

“Dirk can be a little creepy, but the rent is cheap.”

“And I’m sure he doesn’t charge extra for watching you as you sleep.” My joke didn’t go over well as she gave me a terrified look. “I’m kidding.”

“I think he might have cameras in here.” With this phrase I’d normally start to question the sanity of my present company. But the Dirk really was creepy. “Let’s get out of here” she suggested.  We took a cab back to my place, eating our sandwiches during the ride. Quantum gave me excuses why she was still rooming with the guy. Being a full time student doesn’t leave much time for work and living in Chelsea isn’t cheap. But anyway you slice it, creepy crazy roommate was a mood killer.

Back at my place we got back into it, but there was something askew.  Maybe it was the fetish comment, maybe it was my suspicions of her paranoia, and maybe the thought of Dirk possibly scheming of ways to kill me and collect my pubic hair. Whatever it was, we both couldn’t get lost in the moment. Suddenly Quantum chimed in, “You know what would be fun?” She pulled out a prescription pill bottle.  “I don’t think I need any Viagra.”

“No, it’s an Ambien. It’s more fun that way.”

“I’m still pretty drunk. Is that safe?”

“It makes it better.”

My powers of deduction and reasoning were greatly diminished at that point. I think we had already each done a shot when we got into my room. But I decided what the hell, down the hatch. And for a good bit it was fun…and then I woke up. As you can guess much of the night is fuzzy. So I don’t remember what I said to Quantum as she was getting dressed to sneak out my door. So the rest of this is pretty much me guessing what we said to each other.

“Where are you going?”

“I think…I think I’m going to go home.”

“What? Why? I was hoping to wake up next to you.”

“I’m not really a cuddler.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright? You had an Ambien too.”

“I’ll be fine. I have them like every night.”

“Umm…okay…”

Had I not been super dugged/drunk, I would have been more insistent about her staying. I wouldn’t have been good to go home. Granted I wouldn’t have made her sleep with me if she wasn’t comfortable (I could always take the couch.) I don’t see how should could have made it home safe. Especially with Dirk probably waiting for her. But there’s only so much I could do in that state and holding my head up wasn’t one of them. Quantum walked out of my apartment and out of my life. I think we may have had one superficial text conversation after that. But otherwise that well had dried up.

To start anew.

–Big Mack Attack.  o_O*

 
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Posted by on August 10, 2012 in By Mack, Dating

 

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In spite of itself. –By Mack

It’s 3am when my phone wakes me up with the ringtone…

Your skin, oh yea your skin and bones
turn into something beautiful
D’you know , you know I love you so.

A dangerous precedent has been set. This phone call makes me think I have access to something, or that I am something to someone that no one else is. And even though I know it won’t last. This phone call makes me believe something lost might grow back in spite of itself.

It’s been months since this scenario.  I promise I’ll write Qunatum Entropy part three soon. But I felt the need to express a certain sentiment that struck me.

We’ll call her Yellow. Not because of any distinguishing characteristic or fondness for a certain colored clothing, but simply because when I was with her Coldplay’s song Yellow would play over and over in my head. Not the whole song, just the stanza quoted above. I learned long ago to trust the songs in my head. A girl broke up with me in college and the whole day before she did it Death Cab’s I Was a Kaleidoscope was on continuous repeat. Back to Yellow. I trimmed that part of the song for her ringtone. Obviously things didn’t work out and we went out separate ways. But we had grown close enough that a clean break wasn’t going to happen. We dabbled in that residual lingering friendship and when crisis happened, I was there for her.

That’s when the 3am phone calls started. She would always apologize for them later, but to be honest I really miss them. I miss being woken up by Chris Martin’s voice cracking like prepubescent teenager. I’d listen to that ringtone for almost the entire 20 second cut every time. Then I’d answer and hear that half apologetic but longing voice. I was something someone very beautiful inside and out needed. It felt good. Sadistic. But good.

Though I haven’t thought about Yellow terribly much recently I did lose my phone yesterday. Our pictures, her number, that perfectly trimmed ringtone. And of course the backlog of text message. Gone.  It’s probably for the best, in the spirit of moving on and such. But I had always hoped I’d get one more 3am serenade.

–Big Mack Attack

 
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Posted by on July 18, 2012 in By Mack, Dating

 

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Quantum Entropy Stage Two: The First Date — By Mack

There’s nothing like that feeling when things are clicking at the beginning of a relationship. The excitement of your text messages immediately being returned.  That person getting your jokes. Testing the waters of sexual innuendo. It’s like crack.  But that inertia can only last for so long.  A first meet up must be necessary. Plus well, that’s the point.

But as vibrant and fun as the text message portion can be, when you actually meet the person all can go to hell. Maybe they don’t look like their picture. Maybe they’re an ass hole. You must remember, when you first meet someone, we take what we know then fill in the gaps with our imaginations. We do it with presidential candidates, jobs, everything. So when you’re sitting at that table for the first time, the reality gets defined as your hopeful imaginings die.  And for that reason (among others) that first date I tend to make lite. Coffee, maybe a bar. NEVER dinner.

I met Quantum Entropy for dinner at a place called the Crooked Knife. (yup I just contradicted myself.) Upon seeing her, I think my impression was “I think this could work.” Granted I was hoping for “My God! Her pictures don’t do her justice!,” but at least it wasn’t “oh Lord, so that’s why she didn’t have any pictures from the neck down.” Her style wasn’t quite a match and if anything you do to your nails impedes any hand movement, it’s a turn off, but I knew she was from Jersey when I messaged her.  However, in addition to the shared interested/sense of humor she also had a little bit of fire. And has been a while since I’ve played with fire.

The date itself did what I hoped. It continued that momentum where the text messages left off. But then it did even more. Dinner finished, we each had two drinks, the restaurant was closing. Most first dates that would be it. But then her fire came out and she wasn’t done with me. We hit the bar next door. When you get caught up with someone there is a magic that can happen. Like a shared solitude that the rest of the world can’t penetrate.  The Crooked Knife had been a place where a server brings your drinks on a tray. This bar was a place you had to shout at the fat old bartender over a row of barflies to get your shots.

I don’t remember when the first kiss happened. I just remember sitting on couches towards the back while the MTV music awards were on. Or maybe it was the Grammy’s. Either way an old man was looking at us and Adele just won album of the year. I didn’t care because Quantum Entrophy was playing with my beard as she made out with me. The she pulled away and looked at me with what I call hungry eyes as she said, “You’re going to be fun.”

I offered to walk her home ( she lives like 2 blocks away ) to which she politely refused.
“You sure?”
“Yea, I just…have this thing…”
“Okay?”
“I know you’re not crazy, I have this thing about guys knowing where I live…I’ve had some bad experiences…”

And we left it at that. But now I was wondering what I was dealing with. Was this an overly cautious girl or was she hiding something?  Come back next week to find out!

–Big Mack Attack

 
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Posted by on June 23, 2012 in By Mack, Dating

 

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Mack’s dating Series: Quantum Entropy. Stage 1: Initiation


Ending my cycle of romance was none other than Quantum Entropy. Of the women I had been seeing she was the only who gain any traction.

There is an art to the message on internet dating sites. I won’t get into the details here, but the sad thing is that I rarely get replies from the really cool girls (by really I mean really dorky, video game interested, Battlestar Galactica loving, Neil Gaimen reading, cool.) I usually get responses from “Interior designer who loves wine and cheese” or “fundraiser who loves NPR. Message me if you have a dog!”  So when I saw the profile of Quantum Entropy, I didn’t expect a response. But I sent one anyway.

So I am always suspicious when OkCupid says I’m 90% or higher with someone. I honestly think they have monkeys randomly match people up. But you and I actually might share an affinity for the same dark/mystical subject matter.

You seem smart and driven and I can say with no hyperbole that you are the most intriguing person I’ve ever come across on this site and I want to get to know you.

Come along for the ride.

-Mack

She stuck out to me as a cool dork +. Not only was she hot and had 12 Monkeys in her profile, she wanted to study the psychology of prison inmates. How cool is that? A day later a message was waiting for me.

I don’t know, I get a few emails from guys in the 40-60% range and most of them have _4u somewhere in their names and/or a bottle of Jack Daniels in all their pictures. Nothing against a good Jack & Coke but I feel these people must walk around in a perpetual state of inebriation… 
Out of curiosity, what are the 40-60% females like? 

Kudos for typing that all out on your phone btw, and such flattery! You’re like an award-winning email writer 😛 

And thus started the back and forth. Over the next few days the messages back and forth were plentiful and easy. With a lot dating messaging, the connection isn’t there.  Sure you’re attracted to the person, but there’s a lot of misinterpretation and your senses of humors may not be in line.  Not here. Never had I felt so comfortable sending that text.

I got my nails done a few days ago. Typing has been a bit of a Sisyphean effort ever since…

Why the hell have you been typing with a boulder?

You don’t?

I prefer to fly with wax wings on sunny days. 😉

Oh look at us all being mythology geeks 😛

And…

I think I have a stomach virus or something, I feel terrible. Being at the computer is kinda making me more nauseous for some reason… :/ Blahh. I’m going to bed, but I just wanted to shoot you back to let you know, you’re adorable omg. 😛  Thanks for the well wishes, I’ll email you tomorrow if I’m still alive :/

Well it’s half way through the day and no email, so I’m just going to go ahead and assume the dreaded illness has gotten the best of you and you are no longer with us.

Your memorial service will be held on tomorrow (yea during the Superbowl, not really expecting a great turn out.) There will be bounce house, a slip and slide, if we’re lucky Red Bull will be catering the event. So you will be the only one “resting” any time soon. Also we’re hoping to get Eddie Izzard to do the eulogy, but he can’t make it, there’s a homeless guy we’ll throw a dress on.

You’d be proud. But if by chance you’re not really dead, please contact me as soon as possible so I can cancel the reservations. And remember time is of the essence (I had to lie and cancel some kid’s bar mitzva reservation to get the bounce house and sumo wrestling suits) so message me back quickly.

I mean…how are you feeling today?

The connection was there. The stage was set for the first date

–Big Mack Attack

 
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Posted by on June 8, 2012 in By Mack, Dating

 

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The Post-It Date — By Mack

Continued from…The New York Post Date!

With one glance I knew…I wasn’t into her. And that this was going to be a very awkward date. Now you can chide me all you want about “beauty being on the inside” or that you fall in love with the person, but if that attraction isn’t there, it’s not there. Men fall in love with their eyes, people. It’s a fact of life.

We went off, shared a pitcher of beer, and bowled a couple of games. We both sucked by the way. Simply put we just didn’t have anything to talk about. I did my best to make the date fun. And thank God, it wasn’t a dinner date. When a date starts, you have the “exchange” part where you are essentially casting lines hoping something hooks. If it does, you’ve got conversation. When a conversation thread dies both daters feel it and it’s almost a capitulation to “cast another line.” We didn’t hook very much. The bowling really took the attention off the boring conversation. Don’t get my wrong. She was a nice girl. Teacher, worked with disabled kids, loves empanadas. But I’ve spent too long in relationships with nice girls because I was too afraid to reject them, hoping I’d fall in love with their inner self. Yea never happened.

We finished our hour of bowling but the Post was supposed to send a photographer to take pictures of us on the date. Brooklyn Bowl desperately wanted their lane back. They had paying customers. We shrugged off the manager’s dirty looks as we waited for the increasingly late photographer. Eventually he showed up and had us do a series of fun picture. While striking a pose, my bowling ball hit her bowling ball (with my finger in between the two balls.) It wasnt’ pretty.

I walked home to the Brooklyn train station alone, drunk on 3/4 a pitcher of beer, nursing my finger, pondering how I would write my mandatory recap (that had to be written by the morning for Callie.) I didn’t know how to say I wasn’t into her without making her or me sound bad. I felt because her thighs weren’t thin enough, or that her earrings were too big, or her face wasn’t pretty enough for me that that some how made me the bad guy.  And I certainly didn’t want to say that about her in print.

I made it home, threw something together and sent it off to Callie. What actually got written was a crock of shit. But what else do you expect from the New York Post?

–Big Mack Attack!

Ben’s note, here is the actual New York Post – Meet Market column. By the way, I never called her a “nice lady.”

http://www.nypost.com/p/entertainment/dating/strike_out_PAlOsfO4WEa3v9hIufxnbO

 
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Posted by on May 19, 2012 in By Mack, Dating

 

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The New York Post Date! — By Mack

My dating profile got a message one day.  But rather than the usual “BigMackAttack84? That’s a silly name” or “How can you hate the Princess Bride?” (I put that just in to grab attention,) it was a message from someone at the New York Post. Turns out they have some Dating Game/Blind Date column they run on the weekends. The gist? A girl picks one of three guys and the New York Post pays for an awkward blind first date.  Now Jack often decries the evils of News Corp and their tyrannical Aussie dictator, The Murdoch. But c’mon, the guy’s going to pay for a date, not asking me to buy blood diamonds.

I replied to the message and filled out a questionnaire and before I knew it I was off to a photo session at the News Corp building. The crusty hallways of the New York Post were not what the glamorous exterior of glass security gates and a series of check points lead me to expect. It looks closer to a crappy public school, but oh well. Callie, the girl who sent me the message, met me and lead me through the inner bowls of pure evil. I signed my rights away on some legalese contract (probably shouldn’t be writing this blog, but who cares? I’m a fictional character!) And before I knew it I was in a photo shoot.

About a week later Callie contacted me, informing me that I had been chosen. Whoo! Free datesville, population me…and some…stranger. I’d meet my future love at Brooklyn Bowl.  I arrived at the venue only to have the bouncer ask me for a cover for the show. Apparently Less Than Jake was playing. If I was still fourteen I’d have freaked out. I told him I wasn’t there for the concert. He stopped me.

“Look buddy, this is a convert venue. If you’re not going to the show you probably shouldn’t bother.”
“I’m here for this New York Post thing.”

Immediately a girl from the back of the line jumped forward.
“Did you say you were here for the New York Post date?”

With one glance of her I knew…(to be continued!)

–Big Mack Attack!

 

Ben’s note.

By the way, the real preview article (they do one before the date and one after the date) is here http://www.nypost.com/p/entertainment/dating/broadway_babe_hopes_to_cast_new_zxH8ffaxX15fvUnPJKQIyM.
Ironically, this article came out after I had been on the date. So that poll (which I kicked ass in) was completely meaningless and had no bearing on whether I was chosen or not.

 
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Posted by on May 2, 2012 in By Mack, Dating

 

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The Sports Girl – By Mack

 

Hey all. As I promised, here is the 2nd installment of “Girls Mack was seeing for brief moments.”

Much like many of these disasters, the Sports Girl started from the breeding ground of all chaos, OkCupid.  Her  Mario hatted profile picture caught my eye. Her intermittent message responses made me think we’d never actually meet. And even though she would stop converstaions randomly, her responses to my  identical bahavoir to the tune of “I guess you’re bored of me now,” should have clued me in on self esteem issues.

The first date:
Unfortunately, the Mario hat in no way correlated to an appreciation of video games. In fact, she was more interested in the very opposite, sports. She insisted on meeting at a sports bar because she didn’t want to miss a basketball game over our date.

Not a deal breaker, and to be honest, she was actually pretty alluring. Nice eyes, straight red hair that framed her face like a girl out of a shampoo commercial. Curled up in her bar chair, she was kinda cute.  I decided to push the bounds of touch early on. She instantly drew attention to it with a “your hand is on my knee.” To which I responded with “now look at that.”

By the end of the date, we were making out during commercial breaks in the game. Which is good  because we didn’t have terribly much to talk about it. I hate sports. I tried to move  it back to her place as I was getting tired of making out in the bar.  I really didn’t want to have sex with her that night. At best I’d have liked to make out with her on her couch as she watched the game. But she strongly resisted that idea.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see her again. I could tell she wanted to be “courted” properly and I just didn’t see the attraction strong enough to invest in anything beyond anything casual. She delighted in the way I would brush the hair out of her face which made her look beautiful, but there was something that struck me as needy I couldn’t put my finger on.  If I saw her more, I was going to end up in deep.

The Second Date:
The neediness was much more apparent.  I wanted to do something relaxed and she wanted to go out for a full on dinner  and movie. Over the course of dinner we start to be honest with each other. I revealed some private details of my life and she revealed she was a virgin, a fact she seemed to be very ashamed of.  On the whole that didn’t bother me one way or another. But if we were to get involved passed this date it would require that deeper investment.

We ended up seeing a movie during which she didn’t just cuddle up against me, she was literally laying her head on my lap. She seems so safe and happy.  This made me feel very sad and sorry for her. The attraction I had felt in the bar was disintegrating.  A big part of me wanted to give her another date after this. If we had something in common, I’d could keep it going. If I didn’t feel like one more date and I’d be on the road to marriage, I’d could keep it going. But I knew that I didn’t want it to go anywhere and anything in its place would be disingenuous.

We walked from the theater. It was time to end it.
“This is my train.”
“You’re not going to walk me home?”
No, I’m sorry.” But before I could get out the sentence why, she interrupted.
“It’s okay. I won’t read into that.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling it.”
I expected it to sink in for a moment, but instead she immediately snapped back.
“Okay. And that’s what happens when I tell guys I’m a virgin.”
“No it’s not that–“
But she was gone.

–Big Mack Attack

 

 
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Posted by on April 12, 2012 in By Mack, Dating

 

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