Dating Advice From My Friends

My estranged wife & I met over 6 years ago, so I haven't "dated" since then. I haven't had to ask someone for a number, decide where to go on a first date, flirt, compliment, etc for over 6 years! Honestly, I'm a little nervous about the prospect of rejection, but mostly about the money involved in dating. At my age, I should be putting my disposable income into a 401K instead of spending it at some fancy restaurant to impress a lady.

To help me in my re-entry into the dating scene, I asked a couple of friends for advice, here is some of the suggestions I was given. Keep in mind that I asked for good advice, not bad advice. I wonder if these people ever have 2nd dates...

Bill - "To break the ice when you're out on a date, refer to Indians as Punjab. Like you're driving to the restaurant and you see an Indian riding a bike, you'd say, "hey look, there's Punjab."

Johnny - "To find out if she's cool or not, give her a little smack right on her ass. Do it right away, like when you're walking to the car or from the car into the restaurant."

Thanks for the advice guys, I'm sure it will help a lot!

"Your blog is funny & cute"

I shared this blog with my therapist and she told me she found it "funny & cute".
She also told me she thought it would be "deeper".
At first I was a little hurt, but I guess she has a point.

At any rate, I thought I would make this blog a little deeper by sharing a story that I have never told anybody. It is a story wrought with deceit & anger.

When I was 15 years old, my mother woke me up for school at 7:30AM. The night before I told her I wanted pancakes for breakfast. After my shower, I walked to the kitchen and saw my mom putting waffles on a plate. "I hope those aren't for me," I said.
"They sure are. Now eat up, you're going to be late for school," she said.
I did eat those waffles, as thoughts of fluffy pancakes filled my head.
What sort of damage can an incident like that cause? It may be immeasurable, who knows, but it happened and I have to live with the scars for the rest of my life.

Here is a rendering of me eating waffles while thinking of pancakes:

My cat did not want the couch to be moved, but it had to be

Over the weekend I moved out of my old apartment that I shared with my girlfriend/wife/estranged wife for almost 4 years. I'll be honest, packing up all the memories, knick-knacks, photos, her sewing materials and such, made me want to drive down to Oklahoma and punch my estranged wife in the face. Rational? Not really, but I'm pretty sure it would have made me feel better.

What precipitated the move was the fact that I wasn't able to afford my rent after my wife left and took all the savings we had, so I was asked (forced) to move out on pretty short notice.

I packed on Saturday, moved on Sunday. As the night fell on Sunday, I was able to finish getting all of my stuff moved, but I did leave piles of garbage bags packed with shit I don't want, along with pieces of furniture I no longer have a use for. Since my wife is also on the lease, my plan is to send my landlord a letter explaining that the stuff left in the apartment is hers and to bill her for any clean up. Ethical? Who knows. Personally rewarding? You bet your sweet ass!

Here is a stunningly bad drawing of my cat "Monster" going ape-shit and gouging my arm while I tried to remove her from the soon-to-be-moved couch: