A Horribly Misguided Ok Cupid Profile

I thought it would be some sort of drunken joke.  An OKcupid profile that made fun of the idea of baring your soul to random people on the internet.  It didn't work, it is melodramatic enough, but not very far in it became exactly what you would expect, except true.


When I am honest with myself, I realize that the "sowing wild oats" phase of my life never happened, and never will happen. When I am dishonest with myself, I worry that my number isn't anywhere near where it should be.

I never ever ever want to be tied down, but neither do you. I want to live in all 50 states, knowing that the language barrier is more difficult than it is rewarding in Europe.

I want you to be a partner. All of the times I go out, the perfect person is not there. Perfect fit, i should say, the perfect fit person is the goal. You counter balance me. Opposites don't attract, fits attract.

I have no idea what you will look like, what you will be like, what your friends will be like, let alone your family.

My guess for you is the following: You will be smart, whether or not you have cultured that by stuffing facts in your brain, and watching Jeopardy! every day, will not matter. You will still be able to learn from what is put in front of you and bring new thoughts to the table. You won't be the kind of person that gives up and says, "i can't!". You will have an appreciation for the popular things, understanding why the are popular, but you will still have your own favorite things. We will not agree often, but you will understand my teasing as flirting. It is a weakness of mine, that when i find someone i like, i tease-flirt with them, but i ignore everyone else in the room. Because i tease, flit, compliment and listen, you will know that means that i am thinking about you; probably all the time.

I think about things exclusively. That's what i do. But i never think about them in the abstract. I always imagine that i am telling someone what i am thinking about. I have had different people fill the role of "person i talk to when i think about things" but when i thought, the recipients were always an amalgamation. You will be the person that i want to talk to forever and always. I might not tell you all of the things i think about, but you will know that when i am thinking about these things, you are the person i am telling in my head.

I want you to be better than me. I will make jokes about it until the very day that i die, but you will be better than me. There are people in this world that are worse than me, i know that, i don't love the idea, but i know they exist. You wont be one of those people.

You will be involved in a ton of stuff. You will know me well enough to know that i need to be dragged to things. you will make sure that i get out and know people, meet people. You will know that that is what I need, want, and aspire too, but that i am terrible at reconciling those things with the part of me that wants to sit on the couch.

I also always want to be the best at what i do, but this is not born out day to day. But 100% my identity rests when someone compliments my knowledge/humor/etc.

All in all, i know that the following will paint me as a bad person, but I was being honest. If something you read or saw made you get this far, let me know.

I would love you forever

I want to love you forever.

When I am honest with myself, I realize that the "sowing wild oats" phase of my life never happened, and never will happen.  When I am dishonest with myself, I worry that my number isn't anywhere near where it should be.

I never ever ever want to be tied down, but neither do you.  I want to live in all 50 states, knowing that the language barrier is more difficult than it is rewarding in Europe.

I want you to be a partner. All of the times I go out, the perfect person is not there.  Perfect fit, i should say, the perfect fit person is the goal.  You counter balance me.  Opposites don't attract, fits attract.

I have no idea what you will look like, what you will be like, what your friends will be like, let alone your family.

My guess for you is the following: You will be a blonde, shorter than average, but still over 5'5''.  You will be smart, whether or not you have cultured that by stuffing facts in your brain, and watching Jeopardy! every day, you will still be able to follow and learn from what is put in front of you.  You will have an appreciation for the popular things, understanding why the are popular, but you will still have your own favorite things.  We will not agree often, but you will understand my teasing as flirting, and you know that 50 years from now my teasing will mean that i care about you.  That i put my thoughts towards you, you will know that means that i am thinking about you; all the time.

I think about things exclusively.  That's what i do.  But i never think about them in the abstract.  I always imagine that i am telling them what i am thinking about.  I have had different people fill the role of "person i talk to when i think about things" but when i thought, the recipients were always an amalgamation.  You will be the person that i want to talk to forever and alwauys.  I might not tell you all of the things i think about, but you will know that when i am thinking about these things, you are the person i am telling in my head.

I want you to be better than me.  I will make jokes about it until the very day that i die, but you will be better than me.  There are people in this world that are worse than me, i know that, i don't love the idea, but i know they exist.  You wont be one of those people.

You will be involved in a ton of stuff.  You will know me well enough to know that i need to be dragged to things.  you will make sure that i get out and know people, meet people.  You will know that that is what I need, want, and aspire too, but that i am terrible at reconciling those things with the part of me that wants to sit on the couch.

I also always want to be the best at what i do.  This is never born out when you ask about something that is happening around you, but is 100% my identity when someone questions my knowledge/humor/etc.

All in all, i know that the following will paint me as a bad person, but I was being honest, drunk and honest.  If you gravitated towards something in this, know that while i might believe that OMG 100% sometimes, sometimes it means nothing.

Anyway, i am actually going to publish this, stupidly.

Steve Novak or "Vindication" (plus my Simmons Impression)

Steve Novak was the best 3 point shooter in the NBA this year.  That is a fact, from any metric.  I wrote Bill Simmons about it, here is that email verbatim:

Sports Guy,

What does it mean that Greg Popovich missed on Novak, a guy that would go on to lead the NBA in 3FG% by a wide margin? He was even 3rd in 3PM! Pop is obviously a crazy good coach, but if a guy is that good, how can anyone, let alone Popovich, let him go? Maybe the answer was, "He doesn't fit into our system" (defense and rebounding are NOT his strong suits). But let him go to another team? The 12th spot on your bench was worth more than having him play for another NBA team?

Midway through the 2011-2012 NBA season, Steve True (the ESPN radio drive time radio host and a family friend) told me Steve Novak can't be a legitimate NBA player because a coach of Popovich's stature wouldn't have wiffed on a good NBA player.

It's one thing for a coach to pass on Lin, who needed the ball and maybe turned it over too much at PG, than a plug and play guy that can score points.  It's a question around the edges of the NBA that fascinates me, and one that makes the NBA that much better than the college game.

Go Bucks!

P.S. I have been reading your column forever, so I can guess at some other possible things you might take say, verbatim, after reading this submission:
1.) Novak is a guy that I could tell was good but HATED how he was used by Dunleavy on the Clippers
2.) Mark Stein loved Novak coming out of the draft, and now I have to admit to him he was right... at least it wasn't Bucher, he gave me so much crap after that Kidd-Mavericks championship last year.
3.) Why do all Milwaukee kids end up in Chicago? What does that mean about the Milwaukee-Chicago mini-(wholly one-sided)-rivalry?
5.) It is STRANGE how much influence drive time radio guys have on sports opinion in 2012.  Writing on the internet, the guys could not be less relevant, but it's a revelation to realize how regular 9-5 sports fans get their fix.
6.) Wait, there are Bucks fans other than my buddy Chip?
7.) Speaking of Chip, I need another good Milwaukee guys weekend (http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/060825 and before that, the column I where I inexplicably killed Fenway, http://proxy.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/020709)
8.) Do you think the guy writing this has ever been to Beansnappers? And what would you peg his weight as? 240 lbs over/under, I'll take the over.
9.) Damn I still haven't caught a foul ball.

I will leave this incredibly long email (like you are one to judge) with a yes to number 8, and you win the over.

You

It was an early night, not yet tired enough to go to sleep, wary of getting lost on the internet and going to sleep to late.  I looked at my bookmarks bar.  I haven't used a book mark in safari for months, it seems like such an impersonal way to categorize websites.

I clicked on your old blog, the one that you wrote throughout college. The one that I read in its entirety when I was a sophomore at SLU, my favorite place, and your least favorite. I would check it daily to see if you had written anything new.  I still like to imagine I was your only reader, that even you forgot about giving me the address, and I got to read someone's journal.

It was your writing, a blog ostensibly about traveling to rome, written for parents and friends.  It evolved, grew, and lost audience when you came back to campus.  I met you for real then, when you came back.  You were a junior, beautiful, funny, dreamy.  I was drawn to you superficially.  We talked, via phone, while I roamed the halls of DeMattais hall.  I learned later how much you disliked phones.  At the end of the conversation, you told me about your blog, it took some prodding.  In the next 48 hours, i was done reading.

You were you in those writings, but you were more than the you I had met that semester.  After a guarded beginning, you slowly let your defenses fade away.  I began to anticipate turns of phrase, to hang on every timestamped word.  I appreciated your word choice, your emotion, your intelligence.  You were an adult, intelligent, emotional, relatable.


We walked to church, you questioned whether I would freeze solid because i walked so slow, and you were the you I met at parties.  It was hard for me to reconcile the person who's words I devoured and the girl standing next to me.  Beautiful, funny, dreamy.  I tried not to get lost in those big blue eyes, I tried to reconcile the girl from the writings with the girl on my right.

I followed your relationship, from a voyeurs vantage point.  I didn't know if the invitation to read extended into the future, but it became a thing to never bring up the writings.  I lived the parallel life with you, seeing you out, reading about your life, never knowing which to believe.  I tired not to get lost in those big blue eyes.

We didn't grow apart as much as we splintered at a very specific moment.  I was not ready for it.  I was a kid.  A smart, funny, confident kid, but a kid.  I had fallen for two girls, they both happened to be you.  I kept reading, looking for a sign that you cared as much as I did.  I left unreturned messages, never saw you around.  Beautiful, funny, dreamy.  I got over it, transplaced my affections on a different blue eyed blonde in rome.

I saw you one more time.  A BYOB Sushi restaurant in Chicago, where you escaped to, running from St. Louis and Kansas with equal vigor.  We over indulged, you stayed home instead of going out.  I went to Ravens.

When I clicked on that link in my favorites bar, expecting to be reminded of all of that, I found the writings password protected.  Words I had read two and three times behind a lock and key.  Intelligent, emotional, relatable.  Writing that had mattered to me so much for a semester, gave me a role model and a crush, were now gone.

I thought about it anyway, all of the things, 2 euro cones, serendipity, ladies night at lacledes. And I wrote on my own Rome blog turned writing blog about it.  And I missed you. I missed sophomore year and writing and reading and emotion.  I missed going to church, Rome, fights with parents and thinking i was all grown up.  I missed blogger and photomontages and crushes and the Village.  I missed being young, and college and emotional funks.  I missed you, though too, i missed you a lot.