Another Disastrous Dating Profile, Part IV: Who Am I? In All Probability, I Am One of The Following Personas

Infamous dating profile of Assistant Editorial Sensorial Simon Augustine continued:

If that doesn’t give you a good enough picture of whom I am, I offer the following to help clear things up (this should be used for humorous purposes only – any other use can result in unintended consequences):

Choose between one of these personas. In all probability I am one of these people. Or it is possible I am another person entirely.

A. “Joey D.”

I love porn, Ultimate Fighting Championship, and the Friday the 13th movies. I love the part at the end of those movies when you think Jason’s dead, but he’s not, and then he kills more people.

I have a lot of issues with past girlfriends. Usually I like to talk about old girlfriends with my new ones, and the new ones help me out with the things I’m still working on. You’d have to be willing to do that.

I love comic books, especially Legends of the Dark Knight – that’s Batman’s new series. Batman’s a really complex dude. He’s got two sides. I love issues 324 through 356 especially, the ones where he fights Sandman. I don’t like chicks who think comics are for kids. Anybody knows graphic novels have given them tons of respectability now anyway. I have a hard time finishing graphic novels, though – they’re too long.

The shrink I once saw says I have a mother fixation.

My favorite shirt, which I wear probably, like, three times a week, is my old bowling jersey. It’s really cool – it has my nickname, “The Cruiser,” and under that it says, “I Like Me The Ladies.” I still can’t get the jelly stain out of the left corner.

I collect action figures.

I don’t dig people who say they “don’t own a T.V.” Don’t trust people like that. There’s this guy in Brazil who holds the record for marathon T.V. watching. Once my friend Joe – everyone calls him “Bull Guts” – you’ll get to meet him – we tried to break the record by watching every episode of Beavis and Butthead and Bonanza in a row. We didn’t make it.
And, by the way, what the hell is NPR? Is it like the CIA?

I ALWAYS take the escalator. The few times I have gone hiking I wish there were escalators there too. I don’t like to do sports too much, unless I’m watching them. Me and some buddies used to hunt pigeons in Somerville until they changed the laws. Now we fish for croakies on the weekends.

I once was gonna be a guest on the Donahue show in the ‘80s for the “Bad Boys and the Chicks Who Dig Them” episode, but I got cut.

I wish Somerville had an “Inspiration Point” like on Happy Days so we could go necking. But we can still go parking – there’s a cool lot in front of Brooks Pharmacy next to the ballpark, and some spots in back of the Bally’s where I work out.

I really feel I’m growing up these days – it’s been almost three years since I took down my Cheryl Tiegs and Loni Anderson posters!

I just can’t understand chicks. Sometimes I think I might be gay.

B. “Chauncy”

I rebelled against “la familia” and didn’t become a classically trained pianist – needless to say, Father was very angry. Instead I headed off to New Haven – yes, I’m a Yalie – and received my doctorate in Incidental Biology. I taught for a time until I realized my true passion – entomology! I love to introduce my dates to the incredible world of insects. I don’t want to brag, but I recently acquired that rarest of butterflies – the Sudanese Red Two Wing – for my extensive collection.

I pride myself on the fact that I don’t rely on my trust fund.

I am not ashamed to admit that I ALWAYS cry when I hear Janis Ian’s “At Seventeen” or see The Color Purple. I love When Harry Met Sally and Sleepless In Seattle. When I have those mean ole doldrums I put the song “Feelings” on a continuous loop, lock myself in a closet, and weep over old girlfriends’ letters. One of my old flames, Jessica-Monique (who had the rare distinction of having a hyphenated first name) thought that was “creepy.” She was very insensitive.

I bow in humble admiration – “le admiration humbleé – to Noam Chomsky, Alan Alda, Phil Donahue, and Ralph Nader. I once took part in a lecture series based on the New Men’s Movement and the book “Iron John.” There was a lot of psychodrama and role-playing, but I wound up calling my partner a “rapscallion” and challenging him to a duel. I was thrown out upon my much embarrassed rumpus.

As you have probably noticed, I love to sprinkle my speech with obscure phrases from foreign languages. And how about you, mon ami?

I volunteer through the Big Brother foundation. Young people need so much encouragement and mentoring. I have been through six little brothers in the last four months, which has been a little difficult. They keep reaching the point where it’s time for them to “move on.” The last one, little Pedro, threatened to burn my insect collection.

I love to curl up with some popcorn and the latest foreign DVD – be it Bergman, Passolini, or Antonioni. In my spare time I am working on a screenplay based on the life of Frank Lloyd Wright as interpreted through German Expressionism.

Women are such wonderfully complex creatures. I am grateful to still be learning their amazing ways.
I think I might be gay.

C. "Chooch"

I love the movie "Taxi Driver." I really try to pattern my life after it – my friends call me "Travis" after the main character Travis Bickle, who I count as my number one hero. The only difference is that I drive a post-office truck, so if they made a movie about me it would have to be called "Post-office Truck Driver," which is not as exciting. Some crazy things happen on the route, though – I could tell you stories.

Something has to be done about Glenn Beck. Something drastic. When I think about it I begin to believe I may have found my sole purpose in life, the thing my whole existence has been building up to…

When I find a girl I like online, I usually print out her picture right away and make a little shrine out of it in my bedroom, with candles and dead flowers. Then I say obscure Celtic and Wiccan prayers over the shrine so that if I contact her, our e-mails go well. It’s starting to get crowded in my room with 36 shrines.

I’m what you might call a "loner." That goes all the way back to kindergarten, when the kids played duck, duck, goose – but I insisted on being "the cheese," because "the cheese stands alone." The teacher tried to explain to me that that was a character from a different game entirely, but I never listened. I still don’t.

I am a highly sought after man: several covert, subversive politico-corporate groups have tried to recruit me over the years, like in that Warren Beatty movie. I’m not sure what they wanted me to do, but they told me I’d have to relocate afterward, and I’m really attached to Somerville.

High school was traumatic, people. The James Dean thing doesn’t work if you’re not incredibly good looking. You brood, you brood hard, and everybody just goes about their business. Let’s just say I almost have everyone crossed off my list.

D. "Rama"

First you must know that meditation is a very important part of my life. Usually I am absorbed in various states of samadhi for about 9 hours a day. Sometimes I allow my dates to join me, if they are skilled, purposeful, and sincere enough about their practice. I am conversant in many forms: Vipassana, Insight, Zen, Theravadin, Mahayana, Tantric, TM, the New Jersey Method (this is a very difficult, advanced path – it is meditating while yelling at cars on the NJ turnpike.)

Keeping my vessel clean and ready is of utmost importance: I became Vegetarian 10 years ago, then Vegan two years ago, then only Vegan raw foods last year. Right now I am restricted to water and tubers pulled from my backyard. Fasting is necessary to prepare oneself for death.I don’t have a TV, or a radio, or the internet.  I am writing this from my friend Baba Ghounash’s computer.

When we make love, it is important for my partner to remember this is a sacred act, and as such we devote our orgasms to Krishna and all the deities. And we give all thanks and praise – hare krishna -to Trojan condoms for allowing us to practice safe sex.

I can show you how to clean out your intenstines by manipulating various stomach muscles, and/or by inserting a cleansing string in through your nostrils, down through your nasal cavity, past the throat, into the stomach, and so on. You’d be surprised what kind of things are on the string when you pull it out.

I usually have my Earth Day, National Poetry Month, and MLK days pretty well planned out, so I hope our celebrations don’t conflict. We can compromise. On MLK day I get in my Volvo, count prayer with my roudrash beads in my hand, and find unenlightend people of caucasion persuasion to yell at on the street. On Earth day I fill bags with the soil of the earth – the Mother Goddess of Nature incarnate – and toss them at random construction workers or corporate sheep. During poetry month I read poems to strangers on the T. My last one was called "I Went On This Life Journey To Become, and All I Got Was This Lousy T-shirt."

I am so limber from 20 years of yoga that I can "help" myself. But I promise I’ll give you a chance to see what you can do, and based on the results, you might take over the position.

I know deep down I’m full of crap, I’m just not going to allow it to become conscious for another 3 years.

e. "Charley Buke"

I am writer and a drinker, not necessarily in that order. I wrote a short story last night about drinking, but then I made sick all over it, and now it’s soggy and I can’t read the whole damn thing. But despite my gruff exterior, that story had a lot of heart in it, the kind of heart you pull from your chest bleeding, spitting bile, and wailing broken promises.

Can you pass the Chesterfields? They’re…yeah, right there on the dresser.

I like Mickey Rourke’s "WTF" period, in between "9 1/2 Weeks" and this thing that just came out, "The Wrestler." To me, that was the real Mick. Just saying.

Right there….honey, yup. Just pour me a double.

I have had brushes with fame: in 1979 at some fancy literati cocktail party full of frauds, I tried to punch Gore Vidal in the chest. Not for any reason, I actually like the guy. Then Norman Mailer punched me out, and me and Norm wound up on the steps outside talkin’ about the emotional insouciance of your average modern dame, and drinkin’ two bottles of yager.

Neal Cassady and I once had a night in a Nevadan hotel that I don’t talk about.

My latest book, "Romantic Defecation," is coming out in May from Harper and Row. It’s gaining accolades already.

I will open your soul and your checkbook; I will stray longingly through your innermost thoughts and your panty drawer; and I will penetrate your heart, and also, while you are out grocery shopping, that hole my fist left in the sheetrock wall. I got-sta be me, babe.

Does anyone have Amy Winehouse’s address?

I’m suing Tom Waits for hipness infringement.

…..Well, those are the 5 choices: have at it, ladies!
 

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