RSS

Tag Archives: Mack

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*

 
Leave a comment

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

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

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

 
2 Comments

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

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

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

 
1 Comment

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

 

Tags: , , , , , ,

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.

 
1 Comment

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

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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

 

 
1 Comment

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

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

The Wheel of Romance — By Mack

When it rains it pours, what’s old is new again,  two steps forward one step back, back to square one, there’s plenty of fish in the sea, there’s someone out there for you, I wasn’t looking for love, you can’t hurry love, and my personal favorite; I thought love was only just for fairy tales. These are all lovely cliches we’ve heard from friends or in songs time and again. Some of it true, some of it designed to keep us going. I may not know much about love or the inner monologue of the opposite sex, but the one thing I don’t know is that it all happens in cycles.

And after an extended time on the top of the wheel, 12 o’clock has become 6.  It wasn’t more than two weeks ago that I was messaging/texting/OkCupiding/dating 4 girls. Now 4 is a bit much for me. I’m not looking to be juggling 4 different women, but occurrences happen and you have to take opportunity when it presents itself. So over the next few posts I’ll go into detail about the rise and fall of the wheel.

The culperates are as follows.

  • The Addict
  • The New York Post
  • Sports Girl
  • Quantum_Entropy
But I’ll give you one story today.
***THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT MATERIAL***
                       Consider yourself warned
***THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT MATERIAL***

I met the Addict on OkCupid.  She seemed cool enough. Liked South Park, enjoys a good whiskey from time to time and is studying Psychology.  A girl with a drive for something is important. But we made plans to meet up and she cancelled a few times. Excuses like, I got home from work and took a nap, slept longer than I meant to, raised a bit of a red flag. My guard was up, but no reason not to meet her.

Eventually we built up enough comfort via text, and I called her a few times, and we set a date. There’s a cool wine bar on the east side that a good classy/fun first date. La Cava is the place. At first glance, her body type was a little bigger than what I’m used to (not fat but definitely pear-shaped.) But she had a pretty face and talking to her was easy and interesting. There was definitely something non-verbal going on.

As we got to chat more (around drink number 3) we started to get a little more personal. We both revealed we were into some fetish/kinky stuff. Her interests definitely complimented mine.  Then she revealed she had some “bootie calls” relationships going on. I’m cool with that. If guys can do it, why can’t women. But at this point I’m thinking this is a girl I’d like as more than just a “bootie call.” By then we were making out in the bar (being THAT couple) and decided it was time to head out.

We stumbled back to her place (on 50 something and York) and I’m wondering how she has a place there. Trust fund maybe? We’re in her bedroom and she gets a phone call. Suddenly she’s like, “You have to go.” And I’m like, “Uh…why?”

Her, “I didn’t think you’d end up back here tonight, so I got another guy coming over and he’ll be here in like 5 minutes.”
Me,”You’re seriously doing this to me?
Her, “I know. I’m sorry, what are you doing tomorrow night?”
Me, “Wait, why did you bring me back here if there was another guy coming over?”
Her, “I don’t know, he cancelled on me, but now he’s coming over.”
Me, “So let me know, if a guy did this to you, would you EVER talk to him again?”
Her, “I know. But I do like you!”

At this point she grabs my hand and is putting it down her pants. I pull my hand away. She starts rubbing her ass against my leg. All of a sudden that “pear shape” goes from sexy to repulsive. I just want to get out of there.

Her, “I’m a sex addict. I’m sorry. Will you hang out tomorrow?”

I leave.

Okay so the story wasn’t quite as explicit as I made it out to be. I cut out some details, but you get the idea.  I wandered around the streets of New York pretty much a wreck. In retrospect, I was able to see what it for what it was, a girl who is really into sex had too good of a backup plan. But in the moment, drunk, mega blue balls, and having  just been kicked out of a bedroom, I took it personally.  I felt like the thing that garbage had rejected.  I was a mix of lividly angry and broken to my core.  When you get in that head space, all you want to do is tear yourself down. And that’s pretty much what I did the whole way home.

Next: The New York Post girl (or maybe I’ll do the Sports Girl Virgin.)

-Big Mack Attack.

 
3 Comments

Posted by on February 24, 2012 in By Mack, Dating

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,