Dating Websites.

There have been far too many mornings where I have waken up (woken up, awakened, what the fuck is it?) with an unused Kleenex in my hand. For you innocents out there, this means that I was preparing to masturbate in my bed, with my computer next to me, not my iPad because it doesn't have Flash, and apparently you need to have Flash to watch a lot of the videos of naked girls I have found that are satisfying (enough) but then fell asleep before I could do it, because I walked too many dogs. That's not a euphemism for boning too many willing women, it's my job. Walking dogs is tiring. And I had Kleenex because it's the perfect way to clean up the millions of baby Martys that don't really deserve a place in this world anyways. I mean seriously, do we really need a more entitled, bitter, ill-peckered, dickhead roaming Mother Earth coming up with out-of-place dick jokes and trolling the internet, all while telling the whole world wide web every single pathetic detail of his life? No, we don't.

OkCupid. Tinder. Should I do it? I've never really put serious thought into joining a dating website. And contrary to what some people might think, it's not because I think they are lame. I get it. Life is lonely. You're born alone, you die alone. Why not use a tool that's available to possibly make life a little less lonely? If that's by combing through potential matches of pictures of people you might spend the rest of your life with, on your phone on the subway, while trying to ignore the 2Chainz songs coming out of the Indian kid's, who keeps saying "nigga" to his do-ragged Indian friends, cellphone. Then so be it. I wish you well.

The truth is, I've never considered getting on a dating website because I'm not exactly sure I'm in the mood to meet new people. Do I need more "friends"? Do I really want to talk about what I majored in college? Or what ethnicity I am? Or why I moved to New York City? Or why I have a mid-life crisis every 4-6 days? Or why I wear button down shirts with two pockets on the chest to hide my man boobs?

And do I want to ask those questions, and then listen to the answers to those questions?

Sometimes I wonder if my quaint free time spent taking guitar lessons, working out, trying really hard not to eat cookies, trolling the internet, is really just a guard I've placed against fears in my life. Maybe I'm avoiding dating because I'm afraid of being disappointed when nothing but trolls, whales, ghouls, and goblins show up on my e-dating match list. Or maybe I don't want to go on a bad date and have to awkwardly shake hands with some girl that started a statement with, "I don't want to sound racist but..." Or maybe I'm not in the mood to explain why I have a "pecker" and not a "penis."

"Penis."

If I'm being completely honest, I actually think I'm more interested in learning new things, about the world, about myself, about life, than I am about getting blowjobs. Is that weird? Am I doing it wrong?

If I do decide to join one of these sites, a friend has provided me with a strategy that I'm starting to think is a bit genius. He told me to use Tinder, download an app that Likes everyone, and see what connections are made. If there, for some totally fucking strange reason, are cute girls that I'm interested in meeting, I could invite them to a night out and let them know I'll be with a couple friends. This way, they can bring a few friends, and there is a lot less pressure than going out for dinner and having to worry about paying for several entrees and making up interesting things I haven't done. At the very least, we'll be at a bar with our friends meeting new people, wondering if I just tried to set up some sort of weird orgy. Maybe it's the pussy way out. But it's a pretty good idea.

Unfortunately, all of my friends are taller, better looking, and funnier than me. I'm usually used as the bait. Sometimes I'm the bitter guy that has Kleenex balls under his bed that can be cracked in half. And sometimes, I'm a walking aphrodisiac...for other people. I butter the biscuits but I never get to taste them. There have been quite a few times where (I thought) I've charmed a lady only to find out she's got a boyfriend that she's now rushing home to go to after laughing at all the lines I've practiced for hours and stolen from people a lot cooler than me. So that leaves me with a new problem. I have to find new friends. Friends that are lame, lack fun facts, under 5-foot-6, and hopefully more Asian.

OkCupid? Tinder? Interested in: Friends.

- Marty

Give Up.

"I want to work in comedy."

I think this is the biggest lie I've ever told anyone. And I've told almost everyone. What the fuck does it even mean? Every single day I think about writing on this blog or going to try some of my terrible standup material. And every single day, except for a few, I don't do it. I wander around, I watch a TV show, I complain about entitled people, I exercise, I think about money, I laugh at white people, I call the dogs nerds, I make fun of everything, I think about going on dates, I question my insecurities, I wonder if I'll die alone, and I think about eating cookies, and then I eat cookies. But I don't write and I don't do standup.

For as long as I can remember, making people laugh has always been the most important thing in my life. Not Michael Jordan. Not learning new things. Not looking at the stars. Not having children. Not having sex with beautiful women. Not traveling. Not pizza. Not the superiority of black people on the dance floor, and most other cool things. Not my mom. She'll die at some point. Probably relatively soon but hopefully not for a long time. Not any of those things. Ha. Ha. Ha. That's what is important to me.

But let me be honest. I always try to be. What I should have said is this: I want to be as successful and funny and as respected as Larry David. Or Louis CK. Or Dave Chappelle. Or whoever else is totally awesome. Because I don't want to work in comedy. I don't want to put the work into embarrassing open mics. I don't want to write clever blog posts, especially if I'm trying to force myself not to make a jackin' off joke. I don't want to spend any more lonely hours in my head. I don't want to come up with any more lies on what I'm doing to pursue a career in comedy. I just want to complain and get a trophy.

And that's never going to happen.

So that's why I'm giving up on the dreams I never had.

And let me tell you...

...it feels amazing.

I mean seriously, could you imagine if giving up on your dreams was hard work? If you had to finish an obstacle course, or take a standardized test, or listen to a Coldplay album all the way through? What agony that would be! Nope, none of it. You don't have to do a fucking thing! I mean seriously. Nothing. You could be walking down the street, stressed out after a recent mess-up at your last breakdancing "battle." I don't know, maybe you didn't do as many headspins or some other lame-ass shit like that. I mean seriously, if breakdancing is your dream, just give up. It's lame. Nobody is impressed when you clear a space at a party where people are having fun and not busting out pre-rehearsed dance moves, nobody cares. You should have given up on that dream a long time. You shouldn't have had it in the first place really. I mean, breakdancing? C'mon. Anyways, you could be walking down the street thinking about how tough of a breakdancing struggle your life has been. How everyone has always doubted you. No matter how right they were. And they probably were right. And you can just stop what you're doing. Give up. That's it. How amazing is that? Be free, bboy! No letter to your congressman. No phone-call to the girlfriend you don't have. Nothing. How does it feel? Completely amazing, I know. I just gave up on my dreams. And I feel the same way!

Read all of these quotes about Failure.

They're all wrong.

“You’re not obligated to win. You’re obligated to keep trying. To the best you can do everyday.” 
― Jason Mraz

Yep, even Jason Mraz. He's wrong.

"Failing is awesome. Giving up is awesome. It means you don't have to try again."
- Marty C.