Matt from freemattpodcast wrote a great post the other day entitled “And The Band Played On.” Yours truly was the subject of this post. In it, Matt went on to talk about me and my band of “Merry Shitpoasters” and about how we laugh and have a good time on the internet, no matter what the hell is going on:

Rob doesn’t seem to let it get him down. He, along with a band of merry “shitpoasters”, are enjoying life when it is here. Engagement is hilarity. Twitter is an opportunity to have fun when it is available.

I made a joke that he was the one guy leaning on a railing on the RMS Lusitania, cracking jokes and enjoying his martini. He wasn’t crying, but enjoying it all as he slowly sunk off the coast of Ireland.

Rob isn’t crying now, either.

I have known Matt for a while now, I’ve even had him in my house at one point, where we waxed poetic about religion, philosophy, women, you name it. He’s a smart man, and I consider him a friend of mine.

He’s correct in his assessment of me, I’m enjoying myself immensely. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s not to take life too seriously. The “Merry Shitpoasters” and I have that on lock as far as I’m concerned. And yes, I’m not crying about shit, either.

But there is one thing that Matt mentioned that actually got me to thinking and to ultimately writing this post. I know Matt was being metaphorical with comparing me to the dude drinking and cracking jokes as the Lusitania sank off of the coast of Ireland, but it’s that metaphor that sticks. Mostly the sinking ship.

Are we in fact, “sinking?”

I’m not talking about the “Red Pill.” At least not so much. I’m talking about our society. With inflation and the recession that is currently going on, the doomsayers have warmed up their voices and turned on their megaphones. According to them, “The End Is Nigh.”

The problem is, “The End Of The World” has been going on since recorded history.

Revelations in the Holy Bible is talking about the end of the world. As far as I know, that book was written around 68-69 AD or thereabouts. The end is sure taking its sweet fucking time to get here.

The Mayan Calendar had us dying off in 2012.

Do you guys remember Y2K? I do. 2000 was a big one. We’re still here.

I can remember back to the days of inflation and gas shortages and people going on runs for fuel back in the 70’s when Jimmy Carter was President.

Before that, I remember hiding under my school desk if and when the nuclear bomb was going to be dropped on us by the Soviets during the Cold War.

You guys aren’t going to die tomorrow. You’re just bored.

Here’s a most likely scenario that is going to happen, and it will be a thing of nightmares for most of you:

Everything will keep going as they currently are, and everything will remain the same.

Your lives of quiet desperation and ennui will continue until you actually die many years from now from old age or cancer. And if it happens to be cancer, you’ll probably welcome it.

We live in a time of plenty, a time that wants and needs for nothing. You want and need for nothing. That’s why you’re bored. There are no great challenges left, and if there were, most of you are too soft, out of shape, and too scared to do anything about it except cry on the internet.

When men can sit around and gossip like an old ladies relief society about girls with tattoos, multi-colored hair, piercings, and hypergamy, you know you got it good. Too good maybe. When you show yourself to the world as the defective women that you are, the end isn’t nigh, you just suck and take trivial shit too seriously. No wonder women are asking, “Where are all the good men?” None can be found when you’re too busy wringing your hands and clutching your pearls.

This is why I laugh and shitpost. I have nothing better to do than make fun of you. Dating for me is at its best. As far as I’m concerned, with what I’m seeing on social media and the internet in general, it’s only going to get better for me. As long as the lights stay on, I’m good. And if they don’t? I’ll worry about it then. I’ll do what I must.

You guys worry too much about things that don’t matter. You’re bored and lazy, that is all. Maybe you all got too many participation trophies when you were younger, or maybe you think the world owes you a living or something.

Guess what, the world doesn’t owe you shit. But you are finding out, or you will find out eventually. Just hope it isn’t too late for you when you do figure that one out.

Meanwhile, I’ll be sitting on social media with my friends, drinking beer and talking shit. When I’m not doing that, I’ll be fucking the women you’re too scared to fuck because of “red flags.”

Here’s a spoiler alert:

They all have “red flags,” and they are all crazy to one degree or another. It’s just a matter of degree and of what you will tolerate and put up with. I don’t think you want a “sane woman,” you just want to fuck a dude because there are no “sane women.” So just own it.

Other than that, I’ll be riding my motorcycles, eating the good food, and enjoying my life.

See you around.

“Sphinx” is a new woman that I’m currently working on. I’m trying to get her ass out of the house and in front of me, because if I can, if I do, her ass is mine.

I call her “Sphinx” because she has three of those hairless Sphinx cats. The early call at this point is that she is pretty interested. Time will tell, and as the Rolling Stones sang, “Time is on my side, yes it is.”

It’s ironic that I met her on a dating app and she asked the question above that I screen shot for you.

Why the dating app, Rob? Why indeed?

I could “mind-read” her and think, “Oh! This has to do with my looks and my personality. The way that I’m a smooth motherfucker when it comes to texting, flirting, and bantering. She asked that question because clearly she thinks, ‘why is he on here?'” And maybe this is the case. The truth is, I have no idea, and nor does it matter. I could speculate until the cows come home. But then I would be no better than the dudes on the internet whose knowledge of women is in the abstract. Postulating and speculating. “Monday night quarterbacking” from their gaming chairs in the basement. I gave up all that shit a long time ago.

You don’t really know her and you never will.

Back to the question at hand though, “Okay seriously, why the dating app?”

Why not? I like to maximize my opportunities and options. Guys, I have been doing online dating, off and on, for over 20 years now. I started back in 2000. If I only went with women that I had met from cold approach, the bars, the grocery stores, and through friends and family, my “pickings” would have ended somewhere around the year 2000. I wouldn’t have met half the women that I have.

But why the dating app? Where else am I going to meet women? I’m 50 years old. I work 40+ hours a week. I’m tired when I get home. I don’t “shit where I eat,” so dating women from my job and from my customers is off the table. Bars are expensive, I can get drunk far cheaper at home. When I go to the grocery store, sure, I’ll approach a woman if she is showing clear indicators of interest. Otherwise I’m there to buy my food and whatnot and get out of there.

Most of my friends live out of state, and the ones that do live here would hook me up with their wives’ friends. Trust me, I’m not interested. Slump busters are a thing, but there’s only so many grenades you can jump on before you completely blow yourself to hell.

So where the hell am I supposed to meet women if not online? I’m asking this question to you, Gentle Reader, in all seriousness. I work full time, I have activities I enjoy doing that usually don’t include women, and I have only so much money in the bank. Where am I supposed to meet them? I’m looking high and low, and no women to be found.

Why is that? Because of Uber Eats and Door Dash? That and most of the women that I have met in the last couple of years have taken multi-year sabbaticals from dating.

“Go to church, Rob!”

Church? Don’t make me laugh. I haven’t been to a church for religious reasons since I was twelve years old. I’m not the religious type, nor do I tend to attract the religious type. So that’s out of the question.

The real question is, “why NOT the dating app?”

Why not? I can meet women from around my area. Sure there’s a “ceiling” to how good looking they are going to be, but I’m fine with that. Ultimately, those “9’s and 10’s” that you seek? They don’t exist except in your fantasies. Most women are “mids.” Isn’t that the new term you guys have come up with for average women?

Well guess what? Most women are average. Top of the bell curve. I’m okay with that, how about you?

Why NOT the dating app?

The great majority of the women I have met in the last twenty years have come from there. It’s a world of easy opportunity, abundance, and convenience. You match with one and it doesn’t go anywhere? No problem, there’s always another woman.

You meet up and things don’t pan out? No problem, get back on the app and start swiping again. There’s always another woman.

Every face, every profile, every “right” swipe, is a new opportunity. You meet enough women over time, you get to a point where if things don’t work out with one woman, there’s always another one waiting in the wings. There’s always another woman.

I’ve had three different women that I was dealing with decide to tell me, within a few days of each other, “I want more, Rob,” and they left. It sucked, but… There’s always another woman.

So why NOT the dating app?

The man is clearly giving way too many fucks.

Sorry man, but you broke Rule #2: Don’t Be Unattractive.

The girl in this particular conversation seemed willing to meet, she just had shit come up and it was delaying her. Guy gets salty because she hasn’t showed up on his time schedule and then projects his saltiness on her. “I knew she was salty.” Nice “mind-reading” fantasy, my friend. But nah. That’s not it.

For a supposed “pickup artist,” he still has a ways to go.

Being butthurt because things don’t work out isn’t an attractive posture. Going and posting it on the internet for “likes” is a worse look in my opinion. Women will never get their comeuppance. The author of the tweets thinks the chick is going to be seething and hurt when in actuality, she’ll simply go out and meet another dude. The only one seething here is the author of the tweets. It’s not an attractive look. It’s unfortunate that there were so many “likes” on this particular thread of tweets. More dipshits being led astray. Oh well, what can you do?

“Or maybe this is just a sign.”

There’s the kiss of death, the “be gone, loser.” The “oh well, your loss.” From my experience, that’s her saying, “NEXT.” I highly doubt she will be in contact again, but I don’t know her and I don’t know him or any of the context here, so anything is possible. But honestly, I highly doubt it.

“I was being a dick by not giving a fuck.” Sorry dude, but no. You were giving way too many fucks. Why else did you write those tweets? Internet clout? “Putting these bitches in their place?” If you hadn’t really cared, you would have went home and went to bed, fuck the internet. Or you would have waited around and let her show up.

Guys, they always “out” themselves.

Looks like he wrote a book. “Crash & Burn: A Manifesto.” Yikes.

Does the title sound Attractive? Or Unattractive?

I’m not sure if I would be one to buy it. Based on this last series of tweets, I’m thinking I will have to pass. Seething anger, whether “real” or “imagined” is something. Perception is everything, my friend. If you can’t see your own delusion in front of you when you look into the mirror, I don’t have much to say other than “denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.”

What’s the lesson here? Why did I write this post?

Because there are only two “rules” in the world of women. Rule #1: Be Attractive. Rule #2: Don’t Be Unattractive. That’s it, and that’s that. They are simple rules, but they aren’t always easy. When your ego gets in the way, when you step on your own dick like the author of the tweets above, that’s a violation of Rule #2: Don’t Be Unattractive.

Give less fucks. The woman is running late? Shit happens. Let her show up, don’t be pissed about it. Water off of a duck’s back. I’ve had several meetups in the past where the woman was running late. I didn’t let it bother me. I had to be to work early in the morning too, but I also believe that I’ll get plenty of sleep when I’m dead, so I roll with it. She shows up. Of course her life is a chaotic mess. Of course she is running late. Of course there was traffic. Of course she couldn’t find a place to park. Of course, of course, of course. But…

She looked amazing. And she did it for me. That’s a big part of why she was running late. How do I know? Because she told me. And yes, she looked amazing. After a couple of apologies and a drink or two later, guess where we ended up? My house. Her house. Pick one. And I got to find out that either her panties matched her bra, or that she wasn’t wearing any panties. And that she had shaved… Everything.

Which way internet man?

Do you want to seethe and crow on the internet and be unattractive? Or do you want to get laid?

Would you rather miss out on an opportunity for sex because of a time delay? Or do you want to fuck?

What do you want?

Do you want to sleep? Better to not go out if you have a big day ahead of you as far as I’m concerned. Otherwise, you’ll get plenty of sleep when you’re dead.

Let this be a lesson for you, Gentle Reader. Be Attractive, Don’t Be Unattractive.