Archive for the ‘Success Stories’ Category

They say that the clothes make the man. I don’t know if this relates to that adage, but I love almost nothing more than wearing ties, aside from eating, sleeping, and wearing more than one tie at once.

I can’t remember if I’ve talked about this before, nor do I care, because you are not reading this, and I am not currently wearing a tie. If your workplace environment has a casual attire, try dressing up in a tie at least once. If you are female, try dressing up nice as well. It really makes the whole day so much better. Whenever I’m feeling down during the day, I look down and see that I’m in a tie and then I cannot be stopped. Try to wear a tie and not feel important and destined for greatness. Peeing in a urinal will never be so noble.

The first, and last, time I wore a tie on a first date, I managed to meet and hang on to the greatest woman of all time. I’m not necessarily saying that the clothes you wear will change the person you’re sitting across from. However, it may change the way that you present yourself to her, and thus change her perception of you and the trajectory of a relationship that may have been dead, had you worn your Polo shirt. I’ve worn a Polo shirt on several first dates, and never lived to see a second. Again, I was still in the process of losing weight and completely changing my lifestyle and the way that I presented myself.

A tie can be an impetus for a lifestyle change for yourself. If you want to lose some weight, wear a tie. You will still be fat, but you’ll feel better about yourself, and that may motivate you to do something. I actually have no idea what I’m talking about, and am really hungry right now. Wear a tie at the gym. Don’t even work out. Just stand there. You’ll burn some calories. Or you won’t. I’m no scientist.

I recently initiated Tie Tuesday at work. It’s pretty self-explanatory. If you don’t get it, I want people to wear a tie…on Tuesdays. Usually it’s just me that participates. It has also caused me to start going to the dry cleaners. I never went before on a regular basis. No story there. It’s just something I do now.

The world should all dress nice.

My four-month anniversary is coming up and it only took 28 years and 11 months to achieve. From the moment I was born, I was built to sabotage myself into being alone. In junior high, a girl literally told me I was cute, and I sarcastically said something about how fantastic that was and then ran away. Granted, that was junior high, but really Jeremy? Really?

In high school a girl asked me if I wanted to tan with her in her backyard. I responded by telling her I couldn’t because I had to do math homework and I didn’t even have any math homework. A few weeks later I volunteered to watch X-Men with her little brother. I don’t remember my thought process during this whole ordeal, but I imagine it’s similar to that of a crystal meth addict weaning himself off over the course of maybe one hour and suffering severe withdrawals. “Hey! I know you’re really cute and want to lay shirtless with me, but I’d rather watch a movie with your brother.” I wouldn’t have blamed her if she never spoke to me again. And she didn’t.

In college, a girl in my apartment told me I was the most attractive man she works with, and then I told her goodbye and she left.

I don’t know which one of these three scenarios is worse, but it doesn’t matter. If none of these had occurred, I wouldn’t have learned to not do stupid things, and wouldn’t have forced myself to rebuild my life. I would have settled down with one of these three women, remained fat and horrible, and she eventually would have divorced me. I do want to note that fat and horrible are two separate things, and your body size says nothing about you as a person. It was just another factor that made me feel miserable.

I needed to fall in order to get myself back up. I am now back up, but still limping. The most glaring difference in my life is my girlfriend. I know bragging about my girlfriend in a blog about online dating sounds pompous, but I think I’ve been self-conscious on here for long enough to merit that.

Hi Tamar,

I have been on 100hookup since 2004 and have yet to find my Prince Charming. I have gone on my share of dates with all different types of guys — some guys are interested in me and I don’t feel the same way about them — and vice versa. I read so may 100hookup Success Stories and it is just so frusturating for me. I have renewed over and over again when my subscription expires and have had NO luck. When I do go out with a guy, it only lasts for two dates and I don’t hear from them again.

Maybe it’s me and I am doing something wrong? I want to find the man of my dreams and I want him to be hookup. If you have any advice for me, I would really appreciate it.

-Looking for Prince Charming

________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Looking for Prince Charming,

I was helping my girlfriend revamp her 100hookup profile and when I took a look at her preferences and the results she was getting, and I saw the same men there from 6 years ago — WITH THE SAME PICTURES! This is a huge mistake people make when they have been on 100hookup a long time, or are returning after a relationship. I would strongly suggest you get all new photos, change your profile name and rewrite all your paragraphs. Nothing is worse than a stale profile.

Once you’ve completed that step, go to your preferences and see where you can make changes. It’s been eight years since you signed up and that means you are eight years older — which means your age range should be drastically different if you haven’t been changing it along the way. Other desirables must have changed as well — and if they haven’t, then you need to reassess your priorities because the kind of partner you wanted eight years ago should absolutely not be the same exact kind of partner you want today.

A profile makeover can often be a real-life makeover because you are forced to look at who — and how — you are dating. Start with the revamp and then see what happens. Give it a good month and then let me know how it’s going. I expect you will see results in your response rate immediately. After that, it’s up to you, and how you interact, communicate and connect with your new prospects.

Either my blog posts are getting worse, or people are getting angrier for some ulterior reason. I’m starting to get a handful of angry replies about my updates. Here is what I wrote in the latest post that irked one reader:

“If you live in the suburbs, which many of you reading this probably do, there is really nothing to be afraid of, short of death or serious illness of yourself or a loved one.”

And here is how the reader responded in a comment:

“What?!? Do you even know what you’re talking about?”

In context, they were referring to a post I wrote where I discussed how fear can drive you to do great things, but can also consume you. I think this reader took my writing a bit literally. For example, the preceding sentence of my post read, “You can’t live with constant fear (unless you’re that woman who was trapped in that dungeon in the Netherlands… or somebody is chasing you with a buzz saw).” By his logic, it is perfectly normal and commonplace in today’s society for someone to be chased around with a buzz saw, but completely unacceptable that a person’s two biggest concerns should be death or serious illness of a loved one.

Of course there are countless other valid concerns that suburbanites should have, and of course, not all of our readers live in the suburbs. I use hyperbole to make broader points. If it offends you that I made a generalization that you live in the suburbs, maybe you should leave your moderately-sized house just outside the city and go volunteer somewhere.

Again, I don’t know you at all, and I’m sure you’re a great person, and you probably volunteer more than I do anyway. But let’s face it, you do live in the suburbs, and if it angers you that I think you should concern yourself with the health and well-being of yourself and your loved ones, I’m sorry to suggest something so terrible.

Let me be your scapegoat. If you’ve had a long day, and come on here for some dating advice, and read one of my posts that doesn’t always have to do with dating, go ahead and yell at me. You’re right. I don’t always talk about dating. Dating is important. 100hookup is important. If it wasn’t for either, I never would have found the greatest woman I have ever met. However, there is more to life, and I write about that as well.

If you spend all day worrying about dating and finding the perfect person for you, you’re probably not going to find someone for a while. Take a step back. Put up some nice profile pictures, be honest in your profile, occasionally browse the site to find someone good for you, and something will eventually happen. It took me five years to realize this. 100hookup is a tool. A great tool. However, it is not life. Life is too complex, and if you spend all of your time on here, it will show. 100hookup can’t make you somebody you’re not. It can only show the world the great person that you are.

If you are still angry at me, leave a comment on this post. In order to do so, click on the title of this post and then leave a reply at the bottom. Also, if you like my writing, you can leave a reply too. I don’t really get a lot of feedback on this outside of my friends and family, and after over 200 posts, I want to make sure that I’m helping (or at least entertaining) people.

I’m scared of everything. I’m scared I will fail. I’m scared I won’t wake up on time tomorrow. I’m scared that even though I got an oil change last week, the mechanic only pretended to change my oil because I told him I didn’t want the extra $50 thing that he explained I “needed.” but didn’t get because it wasn’t oil.

Fear is what drives people to do great things. It is also what leads people to self-destruct. It has caused me to do both. You can’t live with constant fear (unless you’re that woman who was trapped in that dungeon in the Netherlands… or somebody is chasing you with a buzz saw). If you live in the suburbs, which many of you reading this probably do, there is really nothing to be afraid of, short of death or serious illness of yourself or a loved one. Of course, that is a lot easier said than done. If you lose your job, you will recover. If your car gets stolen, you will recover. If your NFL team loses, there’s always beer. Relationships are somewhat different. I think losing a significant other can really affect your life in the long term.

This is why, outside of maintaining the health of yourself and your loved ones, you should focus a great deal of energy and concern on y0ur partner. If you don’t have one, she/he will come. Okay, I realize this is a completely different topic now… However, I’ve been pretty consistently single for most of my life. For the past ten years, my life has been completely out of control, and everyone always told me that ‘she will come’ very much in the style of Field of Dreams. She did not come until I got my s*** together. You don’t have to actively seek someone out. You just have to get your s*** together.

I realized very recently you don’t increase your odds of meeting someone great by going out on as many dates as possible. You do so by going on a few dates, but putting your all into each one. Don’t make it seem that you go out on one a week, even if you don’t. Get in a mindset where this thing is the only thing you’ve been thinking about for like a week. My dad always told me to get the girl a gift on the first. I never really did that, as it can seem a little much, but the sentiment is certainly there. If you are not sure whether or not you should wear a tie, then you should definitely wear a tie. Let this fear somewhat guide you. If you’re not a little scared, then it’s not going to work out well. If you half-a** it, she will know. And if that happens,you will go home alone — as I almost always did.

Have you ever tried to stop and think during the day just to collect your thoughts? I found myself staring at a wall clock today, thinking how slowly that minute hand was moving. The next thing I knew, it was two hours later and the lights were off.

The phrase ‘there’s not enough hours in the day’ is, in my opinion, stupid. I mean, poeople created the parameters of the hour, right? So they can change the definition of ‘hour’ to mean that hour can be however long or short they want it to be. For instance, they could make that hour fifteen minutes long; then the average person would be able to get around 28 hours of sleep a night! Do you have any idea how refreshed and productive our society would be after 28 hours of sleep every night? I would be so happy.

However, the hell spawns that decided to make an hour 60 minutes long have really limited the abilities of humanity. No matter what you do during the day, you are restricted to 24 hours — 7 of which are spent sleeping, .75 in the restroom, 1 in the car, 1 watching television, .25 walking somewhere, 2 surfing the internet, 1 reading, 2 eating, 1.5 talking on the phone, 2 texting, 3 worrying, and the final 3 are spent thinking about things you’d rather be doing. This leaves you with only a half hour of time to actually do anything that at all matters (or maybe that’s just me).

A highlight reel of my day would be about three seconds long and would include a clip of me laughing, eating, and then sleeping. That is, during the work week. During the weekend, it would be much longer and show me sleeping for half of the day and then hopefully seeing my lady friend during the second half. This highlight would happen in real time. There’s nothing on the weekend I would want to skip over. Except for the shaving. I hate shaving. So much.

Plans are stupid. If you’re making plans that extend beyond three years from right now, what are you doing? That’s not going to happen.

New Year’s resolutions typically fold by 7pm on January 1st. Human beings were not built to think too far into the future. Couple that with laziness, inactivity, apathy, lethargy, traffic, lack of money, and time spent showering, and there’s really no reason to not just wing everything. Unless you’ve just been elected president, you have no idea what you will be doing three years from now. Three years ago, I was fat. That’s about it. I was fat. Now I’m not. I did not see that coming.

Plans ruin everything. I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing to work towards a goal. It’s great to be motivated and to use that motivation to achieve great things. However, if you have a set objective, you may achieve it in some form, but it will never be exactly how you envisioned. For example, if you decide to lose 50 pounds within the next three years, you may get there, but it might be because you will have eventually gone broke because you lost your job and are now only able to afford ice water and taco shells.

Since I’m writing this while thinking it out without a real plan, I have now decided that plans are good, but concrete plans are not. I know I plan on going to bed tonight at around 11pm, but whether I will do this by climbing into my bed or by somersaulting, wearing only my bath towel and one sock is yet to be determined. Having no plans will lead to self-destruction while having absolute plans will lead to disappointment.

Online dating works so well, at least the online portion, because you’re talking to the best possible image of someone. You’re looking at the four or five best pictures of them ever. No matter what you look like, you know that you have a handful of really flattering photos, and you know exactly where they are on your computer. They are perfect for dating websites, Facebook profile pictures, proof of innocence during a pending trial, etc.

Two people chatting online via a dating website will almost always get along. Always. Almost.

What you don’t realize is that you’re not actually talking to a person. You’re talking to a horrifically glorified idea of a person. The relationship immediately starts its drastic decline the moment you meet the other person. You hear their voice, and it’s nothing like you expected. It’s raspy and weird and reminds you of your first cousin. They don’t pay attention to anything you say, and they have this weird thing where they spit at you.

Sight ruins everything. I don’t really mean this, because I don’t want to trivialize actual blindness. I am very fortunate to not be blind, and I do not wish that I was blind. I enjoy a lot of the things that I am fortunate enough to see: the Olympics, puppies, etc. However, physical aesthetics can easily be confused for meaningful qualities, and nobody is immune to this mistake. We are wired to place looks at such a high premium. ‘Luckily, my girlfriend is both beautiful and great’, said every boyfriend ever, including myself.

Mine actually is, but these two adjectives do not always coincide. I’ve met several incredibly great people in my life who will probably die alone. It’s not fair. On the same token, I never went out of my way to ask them on a date. On the same token again, I wasn’t good looking either, so maybe they’re the ones who didn’t ask me out on a date. Maybe we both thought that the other one was hideous and that we were gorgeous. Maybe she is the most beautiful girl in the world, and I have a horribly skewed perception of physical beauty. Maybe she was placed on earth to test humanity, and we are all going to hell. Maybe some great people are just created ugly because life is not fair and is awful and assholes are often the greatest-looking people on the planet.

The weekend is supposed to be a nice break from the week, but I’ve had a tenuous relationship with the weekend. As a kid, I didn’t really care either way, because school was a joke, and I did whatever I wanted all the time. I actually remember waking up on Saturday mornings before I was supposed to. What the hell was I thinking? I really had not yet grasped the true meaning of weekend.

Through junior high, the weekend grew more important. Junior high school was terrible, and I needed the weekend to recover from the teasing, the beatings, anything involving math, and that time this girl said I was cute and then said some smart ass comment that I will relive in horror for the rest of my life. This is when I started sleeping a lot. There was really no reason to wake up. I had no friends, no girlfriends, and a huge bed.

Then, during the first half of high school, I remained friend/girlfriendless. The weekend started weighing on me, though, as I would spend the entire time in my room watching television. In 1992, I was depressed on Sunday nights before school started for the week. By 1999, I was depressed on Friday afternoons knowing I would have to spend the next two-and-a-half days alone, unintentionally being humiliated by my parents trying to force me to make friends. I can remember reading the TV Guide, and literally writing down an entire television-watching schedule for the weekend. I took Must See TV for its most literal connotation. I know Must See TV referred to Thursday night, but this is just an example. It got so bad, I can actually remember writing Caroline in the City into my schedule. If you have ever seen Caroline in the City, and somehow still haven’t killed yourself, you now understand, that after I have written over 200 self-loathing posts, sometimes chronicling unfathomable lows, how bad my life has been.

By the end of high school, I had friends. The weekend was fun again. I still didn’t have a girlfriend, but I did have some female friends, and sometimes I got to sit next to them in cars. I did have a few short-lived girlfriends, though, but they were terrible. Our relationships were short-lived, not their lives. They’re probably okay now, living out their horrible lives regretting ever sitting next to me in a car.

By early college, my obsessive-compulsive disorder and general anxiety started spiraling out of control. By this point, I would often lose track of what day it was, and could not discern between the week and the weekend. It all blended together in a pool of worry, sweat, tears, and pacing around the hall of my dorm. This lasted a few years until I transferred schools, and things started getting a lot better. However, switching schools brought me back home, and most of my friends were back in college. Life was okay again, but lonely. I would often spend the weekend with my family, which was still great.

After graduation, I finally somewhat completed getting my life together by losing weight and getting a great job. For a while, I disliked the weekend again. I liked/like my job a lot, and most of my friends still did not live in this city. During the weekends, I was so tired, I would just end up sleeping and pretty much spending the entire time alone again. I would try to get the Houston friends I have to meet me Fridays after work for happy hour, but this would prove difficult, as most of them have lives/relationships. Sometimes, I would go to a bar after work by myself for a while, go to dinner by myself, and go home for the evening.

I finally found a great girl, and things seem to be falling into place. The weekend is fun again, and the week is pretty swell as well. I still struggle with a lot of things, but I’m achieving some sort of balance or something. I say that while simultaneously making sure that I’m perfectly centered on my bed while constantly worrying that the last email I wrote didn’t have a period after the last sentence. I must now go lock and unlock my front door eight times.

I hope that my recent run-in with motivation will continue to last now that I’m dating someone. The entire reason that I motivated myself in the first place was to find a girl. Now that I’ve found her, I’m finding it really hard to not constantly eat ribs and then immediately fall asleep, and then wake up once the acid from the ribs and sauce start burning my heart.

I think I’m deep enough into a productive routine to not fall back into that endless cycle of ribs/sleep/acid reflux. However, I now fully understand how people in relationships can really let themselves go. When my diet was at its height, I once had to pass out cupcakes, and got a bit of frosting on my fingertip, and instead of licking it off, I walked down the hall, into the bathroom, and wiped it off with a towel. Today, I wouldn’t pass out cupcakes in the first place because I would have eaten all of them and then gone to get some ribs.

Though my diet has eased up a bit, I’m really not letting myself go yet. I hope my girlfriend doesn’t end up liking me too much. I need to have a constant fear of rejection, or I will implode. For every compliment I receive, that’s the caloric equivalent of one extra cupcake per week. But please do not stop complimenting me. I’m emotionally weak, but I’d rather be physically weak.

Being unhealthy and not alone is perfectly acceptable to me. However, being unhealthy and alone is not. What good is some good ribs heartburn if you have nobody’s face to burp into? I think that is the definition of love.