Rumble in the Bumble pt.1

Have you noticed how things are a bit weird at the moment? Like, there seems to be something in the air, doesn’t there? People seem to be a little less socially active these days; nobody came to your barbecue last Thursday; WWE crowds are drastically down; you’re pretty sure Paul should have been at school these past few weeks not that you’re going to ask the little shit and risk getting pulled into an endless conversational loop about the largest dinosaurs; and Italian mayors seem to be furious these days. Something’s… different…

I don’t watch the news- if I wanted a posh voice feeding me a liberal agenda I’d just ring my parole officer- but it’s clear to me what’s happened. There’s an unmistakable stench of disappointment overlaying an aggressive smog of sadness that’s infected the whole country. They know. You know. Everyone knows.

I am now officially single.

Longtime readers* will know about- and are likely sick to fucking death of– Hejjy. TLDR: I really love(d?) Hejjy, and after a long and often tortrous and frequently dull to read relationship, we finally decided to fly her over to the UK as my wife. I got a job with the minimum income, she divorced her husband (aw, can I please tell this story again! So many twists and turns!), we were ready to motherfuckin’ pop it like it’s hot, yeah?? Kids say that, right?

(*my parole officer. She got a ridiculous tip that I occasionally hide covert messages on my blog revealing clues of my next attack, so feels the need to constantly check what I write, which is basically aPropos of lIttle more than SenSationalist hOrse duNg THat sheE QUoted from the Evening nEws aNd baSed on Flimsly dAta defeCtively sourcEd. )

I was going to fly to China this summer, probably to get married, and Hejjy would fly back with me probably sometime before Christmas. Then, weirdly, China suddenly became really reticent to allow people to fly there. Like, come on, China, we’ve done it before, and the plane will slide in nice and slow so it doesn’t hurt. China wasn’t even letting people out of their houses at one point, that big, fat frigid territorial red dragon.

Then Hejjy’s Grandma died. I’ll skip the funny line here. Hejjy’s divorce finally came through at the same time, and it all conspired to elicit great feelings of… obligation… Of consequence. Of family. Of fate. Of wordy adjectives. Of short. Forceful. Sentences. She imagined a future life where her parents* died and she wouldn’t even be in the same continent. She couldn’t do it. Her dumb, Muslim family finally won out. She couldn’t leave them. Yeah, I know, she’s done this before, and has flip flopped numerous times in the pas and performed more U-turns than Usher on his 2000 ‘8701 Evolution’ tour. I’ve always been the dumb fat turbot flapping from side to side in pain while impaled on her tenterhooks. This has to be the last time. I’ve put my whole life on hold while I anxiously wait for Hejjy and adore her from afar. With good reason, the girl’s freakin’ fire, y’nar? But Hejjy is now officially past tense. Boo-hoo, memories all alone in the moonlight, why they put the dick in the pussy, poetic anguish, etc etc, I’ve written enough about Hej, this post/series is for me!

(*well, her mother. Nobody ever really gives two shits about the father in her culture. With good reason. Have you ever seen a ‘Dad’? Fucking useless)

Wait… Usher’s first four singles from ‘8701‘ were U Remind Me, U Got It Bad, U Don’t Have to Call and U Turn!! Then the fifth was Can U Help Me which was, y’know, at least ‘U’ adjacent!! How am I only just noticing this?? The guy’s a freaking genius! Do people still release five singles from albums? Is that still what people do? Taylor Swift has released four from ‘Lover‘, is there another one to come? Paper Rings is a bit of a banger, if you’re thinking of that. Where was I…? Oh yeah! I’m single now!

OK, here’s the thing, peeps: all things considered

I mean, come on! I’ve got bundles of disposable income that I currently choose to fritter away on takeaways and wrestling figures. I live in a council house! Which is, like, truly the next best things to actually owning your house! If I date any Millenials (21-37) it’ll definitely be the closest thing any of those poor fuckers will have seen- and will ever see- to someone owning their own house. I’m kinda funny and kinda entertaining. I’m like ‘How I Met Your Mother’- not the funniest or most entertaining thing in the world, but if it’s already on and you’ve got nothing better to do, then you may as well, y’know? Also, I’m a motherfuckin’ Immigration Adviser at a motherfuckin’ charity, which has just got to get all those SJW birds soaking wet, no? You might argue that I don’t have ‘rock star good looks’, but that word’s a bit of a mistaken designation, really. Sure, I’m not as good looking as some rock stars- your Mick Jaggers, your Jeff Buckleys, your Kele Okerekes your JPEGMAFIAs- but are you seriously suggesting I’m not as good looking as any rock star?? The Green Day drummer, Tre Cool? You’d pick him out before me in a smelly and deluded ‘punk’ bar? You’re seriously suggesting that you have wet dreams about Rivers Cuomo?? Come on! I could totally beat him up, therefore, hotter. I mean, look at the state of AC/DC! And- you know what?- I’m gonna say it: I am way more attractive than all the living members of Queen.

In all seriousness, I know what I am. I am aware that I- both physically, emotionally and mentally*- represent something of a niche. But I know from past experience that there exist people who are- fucking unfathomably- rather attracted to this niche. And the thing is, if you somehow find you like what I’m offering, then you quite quickly find that there are quite few other outlets that offer the particular product that I’m pushing. I’m very much like anime. Most people on the outside consider me a bit weird and possibly dangerously perverted, but there are a few- seemingly completely normal– people who actually really dig me, so much so that they won’t fucking shut up about me until all their friends start to wonder why exactly they’re into such bizarre shit. Also, I can’t fucking stand either anime or myself, so the analogy is waterproof.

(*and sexually. Put that in there. No further questions. What?)

The problem is… We all agree the product is there, yes? Then… But… How to ensure effective market penetration…? You can make another joke involving that last word if you want, but I’m better than that… I’ve met all my long term partners… All my short term partners… All my ‘depressing handjob behind the pub bins at 2am’ partners… Met and ‘associated’ with them while drunk, and in bars. That was the only way you could meet potential partners when I was young and attractive. You only met people online if you wanted to secretly share you love of urinating on Cabbage Patch dolls while the other watches and draws the Nerf logo on their naked body using scented glitter pens (it was a more innocent time) without any of your friends finding out. Sure, there was always the 46% chance of getting murdered- as the internet was, like, 92% violent sexual predators during the 90s- but it was still far more honest. In 2020 though, I don’t drink, I hate drunk people and I’ve come to realise all bars are full of utter fucknotions. So, I have no choice: internet dating it is.

I’ve chosen ‘Bumble’. Two reasons- one, I really am not interested in the vicious spunk circle that Tinder seems to market itself as. Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’m sure you’re experience is different, and that you met a lovely chap called Grayson Fort-Wimple, who was so polite and gentlemanly that he insisted on paying for the Cabbage Patch dolls after you’d finally gone all the way on the 75th date, but I’m just skeptical, is all! I’ve seen too many screengrabs of conversations starting with a guy asking ‘Hey babe, are you hand sanitiser? ‘Cos I’ve been looking for you everywhere and merciless profiteers are asking way more for you than you’re worth!” and the woman replying “Yeah, I’m Hazmat suit, because I’ll stuff your face into my wild and wet cunt and shatter your skull with my labia and… wait… what was the simile again…?” and to be honest, I just can’t be dealing with that. Imagine that message coming at you at 8:15 in the morning while you’re on the 231 bus to work? Cunts that early can really make a day go funny, as Mark Twain said.

And secondly… and most importantly… Well, like, one hundred percent importance- ignore that last paragraph, I just fancied saying ‘cunt’ a few times- is the fact that the women approach the men first on Bumble. Once two people are swipelocked, it’s the woman who has to think of the awkward first comment. I don’t need to think up all the hilarious opening lines to show how freakin’ hilarious I am. They have to do that. Them.

So, that’s sorted. First, I’m going to ask a few female friends of mine for advice on my name, bio and photos. Often without telling them what I’m doing, because this is a proper fucking experiment and you can’t bias the test like that. I’ll see what the lay of the land is, stinkwrinkle-wise (spoiler alert: it’s pretty fucking grim*), and if that proves unsuccessful (unlikely: you’ve seen my face) I will turn to the experts, read up all I can and try and find me love scientifically. That may end with me making my own sex robot ala ‘Weird Science’, you’ll have to tune in to find out.

It’s gonna be fun!

…it really isn’t, it’s going to fucking kill me…

(*hey, on the inside! This will absolutely not turn into a ‘Look at the munters, lol!’ banterfest- I have absolutely no leg to stand on in that regard, although a quick reminder that I am more attractive than the band Queen- I will not post anyone’s picture here except mine. But, Jesus, man, some of them bios…)