Fishing for Meaning

It's been a while since I've posted anything, so here's another one from the past. A symmetrical dialogue, inspired by Douglas Hofstadter's Crab Canon from Godel, Escher, Bach.

BANKER:

Good day, my friend.

FISHERMAN:

It certainly is. I enjoy talking with you. It's been a while since I've seen you.

BANKER:

Providing for one's family, while sitting on the boards of the fragile banks, is a thing that can take up all of one's time. But it is also a thing that can bring one much pride.

FISHERMAN:

Indeed. How did you cope with the recent crises?

BANKER:

You mean the panic, shortages, collapsing banks, etcetera?

FISHERMAN:

I do. I have been up to my armpits lately, wading through all kinds of muck. But I always get by. These areas were densely populated not so long ago. Now one can work all day without seeing another soul. There is much to worry about these days.

BANKER:

Many have been struggling to find a meal lately. But I am surprised by your level of concern. You are one who always seems to cope well with adversity.

FISHERMAN:

So I am. That is the reason I have caught so little, while others have struggled with the weight of their load. But I think the main reason for my poor fortune is that those responsible for the management of the banks have acted incompetently.

BANKER:

You are out of line.

FISHERMAN:

I'm sorry. I did not intend to be critical of you personally. I am just struggling to find a reason why my yields this season have been so low. Perhaps you could check my setup. Am I doing something wrong?

BANKER:

Fund management is a difficult and thankless task. One must try to be completely objective when making decisions. But I am not to blame for your problems. And I am tired of talking about banking. Tell me of your fishing.

FISHERMAN:

I'm sorry. I did not intend to be critical of you personally. I am just struggling to find a reason why my yields this season have been so low. Perhaps you could check my setup. Am I doing something wrong?

BANKER:

You are out of line.

FISHERMAN:

So I am. That is the reason I have caught so little, while others have struggled with the weight of their load. But I think the main reason for my poor fortune is that those responsible for the management of the banks have acted incompetently.

BANKER:

Many have been struggling to find a meal lately. But I am surprised by your level of concern. You are one who always seems to cope well with adversity.

FISHERMAN:

I do. I have been up to my armpits lately, wading through all kinds of muck. But I always get by. These areas were densely populated not so long ago. Now one can work all day without seeing another soul. There is much to worry about these days.

BANKER:

You mean the panic, shortages, collapsing banks, etcetera?

FISHERMAN:

Indeed. How did you cope with the recent crises?

BANKER:

Providing for one's family, while sitting on the boards of the fragile banks, is a thing that can take up all of one's time. But it is also a thing that can bring one much pride.

FISHERMAN:

It certainly is. I enjoy talking with you. It's been a while since I've seen you.

BANKER:

Good day, my friend.

Of Mice and Children

First, a warning. This story starts innocently, sweetly even, but ends with some of the most gruesome imagery ever to have entered my visual cortex. Those prone to queasiness should consider leaving this story unread, and skipping to a lighter, cheerier read.

---

Prelude

The story is set in and around my parents house, at a time when my sister was about ten years old, and I was a couple of years older. A young friend and neighbour had given my sister a few pet mice as a gift. My sister kept the mice hidden from our parents in an aquarium-style cage under a shelf at the bottom of her wardrobe.

For a short period after she was given the mice, my sister was very enthusiastic about keeping them. She would rush home from school, then disappear into her bedroom, where she would take the mice out of their cage and teach them to perform tricks. Her training method involved offering small pieces of cheese as a reward for acrobatic feats or cleverness. Sometimes, when she thought she had a new trick perfected, my sister would invite me and her other siblings into her bedroom to serve as an audience for her amazing mouse circus.

The mice and the circus kept my sister amused for a couple of weeks. Soon after however, the pain of chores associated with ownership of the mice began to outweigh the pleasure she derived from keeping them. She became neglectful of cleaning their cage, and then the smell of the mouse droppings provided another reason to resent the impact the cute little creatures had had on her otherwise carefree life.

My sister faced a dilemma. She wanted to get rid of the mice, but could not bring herself to release them into the backyard, knowing that if she did, the mice would likely be caught and killed by the family cat. Also, there were plenty of other ways the mice could be accidentally killed if they were set free - they were so small and fragile that they had almost been trod on and killed a few times already when they had been allowed to run free around her bedroom.

The solution my sister settled on was to continue to keep the mice in their cage, but to store the cage in a old disused tin shed in our backyard. She very loosely figured that she would tend to the mice from time to time, and that she might grow to like them again if only she did not have to live with them constantly. To allow the mice to survive for extended periods between her visits to the shed, my sister devised an ingenious slow feeding mechanism consisting of a Milo tin with a small hole in the bottom. She filled the Milo tin with birdseed I think.

My sister was not a very dedicated carer, and so predictably, a short while later her carefree life of dress-ups and pool parties resumed, and she forgot all about the mice. I forgot about them too.

---

Shock

A month or perhaps two months later, after searching the house for an old toy or bike part or piece of sporting equipment maybe I expanded my search to the backyard. I beat back the ferns that surrounded the entrance to the old tin shed, then slid back the bolt that held the door in place. The thin door wobbled outwards on its own due to the shed's age and shoddy construction. The makeshift wooden chipboard floor was bloated and damp due to the leaking roof. Only when I spotted the aquarium-style cage in a dark corner of the shed did I remember about the mice. I hesitated, having no clear idea of what might have happened to them after the long period of neglect, but nonetheless being filled with vague premonitions of unpleasantness. The shed was too dark for me see anything looking through the glass, so I picked up the cage and carried it out into the light.

Strangely I don't remember anything about the smell of the cage, but I remember the sight. As the bright summer sun shone through the glass walls of the aquarium, distinct red smears became apparent. The smears were about two centimetres wide and rose from the bottom of the glass walls to about a third of the way up. There were about ten smears in total, spread haphazardly over all four walls of the cage.

Inside the cage was more red. Red was everywhere. The spinning wheel and other mouse toys looked like heavily used and never cleaned instruments of torture. The white fur of whole and partial mice was littered about the cage floor. I remember a mouse near the centre of the cage, largely intact but with its innards having been eaten out and the red of its body cavity contrasting with its exposed thin white bones and the clean white fur of its exterior.

Before I had come up with a satisfactory explanation for the apparent massacre of my sister's pet mice, another sight inside the cage confused me. I saw a row of little pink piglets - plastic toy farm animals about a centimetre long from a play set that was kept inside the house. That those plastic toys had at some point been given to the mice seemed the most likely explanation initially, but I soon realised that what I was looking at were not plastic toys, but hairless, newborn, baby mice. A glance around the rest of the cage confirmed that the newborns were not the only additions to the mouse population. Adolescent mice about three centimetres long were among the mutilated.

The horrifying reality of what had happened dawned on me. The mice had bred to the point where the bird-seed food supply was no longer sufficient, and had turned to cannibalism. The red smears had been created by a mortally wounded mouse, trying vainly as it bled to death to escape the hell of its surroundings by throwing itself against the cold and unyielding glass walls. I shuddered at the thought of that poor mouse's agonising last moments.

While in shock I looked over the cage for any signs of life. I found a single live, fully grown mouse, quivering in a corner of the cage, partially hidden under a small plastic shelter and peering out with frightened eyes. There may have been others not so obviously alive, but those frightened eyes are all that has stuck in my memory. The quivering mouse was surrounded by the aftermath of a life and death cannibalistic struggle that no creature should ever have to experience. I wonder how the mouse felt about its victory.

What I did with the mice and the cage I have blotted from my memory. Most likely I tipped the contents of the cage into the compost heap at the back of the garden, hosed out the cage, then returned it to its place in the old tin shed.

---

Reflection

The thing that struck me most about this gruesome episode was the appalling amount of suffering that was caused by such a minor lapse of judgement. In most circumstances, the upper limit of suffering that can be caused by an action is the loss of life of all who were present when the action took place. Future Hitlers of the world should take note that there is no limit to the amount of suffering that can be inflicted if breeding is allowed.

Book Review - American Psycho, Brett Easton Ellis

Following on from my previous post, a book review written a couple of years ago, shortly after I read the book.

---

An extremely entertaining read. The book alternates between chapters that are amusing (descriptions of the interactions between a group of entirely self-centered people), shocking (graphic descriptions of killings), and seemingly irrelevant (intellectual critiques of popular musical groups).

The most effective humour involves meetings between the main character (Patrick Bateman psychopath) and 'real' people as opposed to the entirely self-centered cardboard cut-outs of people that make up the majority of the characters. Patrick and his peers are for most purposes of social interaction interchangeable since they all look and dress similarly and discuss only the most superficial of topics (eg. restaurant menus, dress etiquette, gadgets). Patrick and his peers do not seem to care who they are speaking to at any given time, frequently mistaking each other for other people with little or no consequence. When 'real' people who ask questions with more depth (eg. Patrick's ex-girlfriend Bethany, his secretary, or the private detective) enter the scenes, Patrick does not know how to respond and hilarity ensues. I could not contain myself and laughed out loud while reading this book on the train on a few occasions.

Another thing I liked about this book was the style in which it was written. Normal rules of grammar are disregarded. Some chapters start or end mid-sentence. Italics are used liberally throughout. Sentences regularly exceed a third of a page in length. Despite this, the prose flows. This book expanded my view of what creative writing can be.

Get to Know Me

A couple of years ago I had fun with a facebook app called Get to Know Me. It was a simple app consisting of a few short questionnaires. The questions were mostly only one or two words long, designed to prompt similarly short answers. However, there was a generous limit to the length of the answers accepted, and so I had fun trying to shape my answers so as to form a conversation.

Here are two Get to Know Me questionnaires, reproduced for your amusement.

---

Basics

Full Name:

Tom McDonnell

Single or Taken:

There's just one of me... What do you mean by 'taken'?

Sex:

Taken by sex? No not presently. Now's not the time.

Birthday:

Yes. That would be a better time. On the evening of my birthday, visit me.

Sign:

When you approach my door, knock thrice in quick succession. I will be waiting.

Siblings:

If you have attractive sisters, then by all means bring them along.

Eye colour:

What you have on now is fine. But make your sisters look like whores.

Shoe size:

Go for style rather than comfort. You will not be wearing them long. High heels.

Height:

The higher the better. I trust you can walk on them elegantly?

Country born:

That is unfortunate. A lower heel then. What vehicle will you be arriving in?

Innie or Outie:

Take the Audi. I have not heard of that first make and so will not recognise it.

What are you wearing right now:

My chainsaw chain is in need of replacement. Err, I mean - A double-breasted three-piece pin-striped suit by Louis Vuitton.

Where do you live:

On Wall Street.

Righty or lefty:

Take a left from Broadway when heading south.

Any pets:

Excellent suggestion. Nothing excites me more than to see and feel a soft, warm, furry animal, rubbing and nuzzling against me, blissfully unaware of its impending violent death. Bring any pets you and your sisters may have.

Where do you work?:

On Wall Street.

When did you start using Facebook?:

I don't know what you mean. My tan is naturally radiant.

How much time do you spend on Facebook a day?:

I told you I have not been to a salon in months.

Do you own a cell phone?:

I work on Wall Street.

Do you like to text?:

TuTechxt though German, are an inferior manufacturer. Stick to the Japanese.

Play an instrument?:

Another good suggestion. I shall seduce you with sax.

Have any Tattoos?:

No, but if you have needles and ink, bring them along. We can have some fun with those items.

---

Favourites

Favorite kind of pants:

Thank you detective. But what of these two corpses?

Favorite Number:

Mine too. There is something alluring about a pair. But that the dead number two is pure coincidence.

Boys Name:

I did not know his name. Pity his face was so badly burned. Perhaps his name is Ash.

Girls Name:

...Pamela? Even dead she is ravishing. Though her blood has stopped, mine is pumping.

Animal:

Detective, lust though admittedly primal, is concomitant with man's nature as well as beast's.

Drink:

Alcohol has nothing to do with it. When I taste lust's sweet elixir, I feel a competitive urge akin to...

Sport:

Yes! Exactly that. But I digress. Where were the victims found?

Fast-Food Place:

I see. And how long had they been in the freezer?

Month:

That long? Pamela still looks deliciously fresh. I so enjoyed her strip shows. Unfortunately I was -

Band:

Yes. Following an incident involving a gerbil and a can of mace. But if you'll excuse me I have something to return.

Movie:

Thats right. I'm returning videotapes. I must return "Rapefest at Tiffany's".

Breakfast:

No. What I said was - Never mind. Detective you are wasting my time. You have nothing on me.

Perfume:

The gerbil in that bottle had nothing to do with the one at the strip club.

Cologne:

So my cologne bottle contained fragments of her skull. So what?

Favourite cartoon character:

The Bananaman tattoo I gave her is completely unrelated to any act I may later have performed.

Color:

That the color of the paint found at the scene exactly matches that of my car I suppose does need explanation.

Food:

For thought? Indeed. What must I do to clear my name?

Ice Cream?:

Must you talk in euphemisms? If a semen sample is necessary, I will provide it. All I need is a cup.

Shoes:

You offer me your shoes? Very well. Give me the shoes. But I can't fill them here.

Place to relax:

Yes. Somewhere private. I am not an exhibitionist when it comes to things of this nature.

Magazine:

I need no stimulation. My imagination alone will suffice.

Person to hang out with:

A seductive female officer though could be of welcome assistance. At the clinic I'm left all alone.

Place to go on the weekends:

That's right. I visit a sperm clinic on weekends. Normally what gets me off is to imagine a girl in her negligee...

Thing to wear to bed:

Helluva thing. I don't know about you, but even thinking about it is getting me randy.

Time to shower:

I know, I know, but I'm so close and you still haven't given me your shoes! Hurry up man! I told you I need to return some videotapes.

TV show:

No, damn it. A movie. I told you, "Rapefest at Tiffany's".

Season:

I believe it was set in Spring.

Holiday:

We all need a holiday. Your job ain't so tough. Pushing goddamn pencils all day.

Smell:

Occasionally you must visit the morgue, granted. But to me this place smells terrific.

Perfume/cologne:

Yes. A very arousing scent.

Memory:

O how it haunts me! That night at the fast-food place!

Book:

No! I've slipped! Your treacherous questions have befuddled me!

Thing about the opposite sex:

They seduce you with their looks and charm, then when you beat off on their corpses, you get booked!

Cereal:

I'm not sure two victims qualifies me as a serial killer.

---

Evidently the questionnaires above were completed at a time when I was reading or had just read American Psycho, by Brett Easton Ellis.

Advice for Car Buyers

My mother is planning to purchase a new car. I visited her recently and found her sitting at her kitchen table with an old friend of hers, whom I'll call Madge. They were discussing the relative merits of different car makes and models. While I removed my jacket and hung it on a chair I began listening to their conversation.

"Get a Magna," Madge said. "I've been driving one for ten years and I've never had any trouble with it."

That's odd, I thought. I've seen Madge visit my mother many times, and never seen her drive a Magna. My mother's reply indicated that she was also confused.

"Do you have two cars?"

"Nope. Just the one."

My mother and I paused to think about this apparent contradiction. My mother was the first to formulate a question.

"Hmmm. Do you often borrow your husband's car?"

"You know my husband would never let me borrow his car!" Madge joked, "But I'm not bothered by that, since I love my Magna so much!"

My mother smiled but then struggled again to find an explanation for the fact that when Madge visited, she often if not always, arrived in a car that was clearly not a Magna.

"Have you been borrowing a car from a friend?"

"Why would I do that, when I have a Magna that I love?"

Madge was becoming confused too. Her and my mother's brows were furrowed as they tried to read each other's thoughts. My mother then looked to me, as if to ask whether I had made any sense of the conversation. I tried to help by taking over her questioning.

"Did you drive the Magna here today?"

"Yes! Like I always do!"

"Where did you park?"

"Right outside the house!"

I opened the front door and looked outside. There was one car in view. It was yellow, and not a Magna.

"You mean the yellow one?"

"Yes!"

"The one that says 'Falcon' in big letters on the back?"

Silence filled the kitchen. An ashen look fell on Madge. She had searched for reasons to support her belief that her car was a Magna, and found nothing. It was probably the first time in years her mind had dwelled more than a passing instant on the car she drove almost every day.

There was no need for me to say anything else, and so after exchanging concerned glances with my mother, I left the conversation and the room.

Madge drove an XF Falcon. I cannot explain how she came to believe it was a Magna, and how she failed to notice the big 'Ford' and 'Falcon' badges, and how she failed to notice people around her referring to her car and similar cars as 'falcons'.

There is a moral to this story, and the moral is: If you seek car buying advice, seek it from someone who knows what kind of car they drive.

Textual Favours

The following is an annotated record of a text-message correspondence that occurred over a few days between myself and an anonymous female. I have attempted to tell the story a few times to friends, but each time I have forgotten crucial details or the order in which messages have been sent and so the story has come out garbled and incomplete. In order to do the story justice I have decided to write it down.

The text messages are printed verbatim. The received messages are timestamped, but the sent ones are not due to that feature being absent on my phone. Some of the content I find embarrassing, but to edit or omit parts would change the honest nature of the piece. I hope that readers will enjoy an insight into the mind of a good natured but socially inept male as he deals with an unlikely and tantalising offer from a female stranger.

---

The story starts one afternoon as I was working at home on my computer. I received a text message from an unknown number.

2010-03-06 12:32pm
U up 4 some fun?

The friends I regularly exchange text messages with do not tend to use the type of abbreviations that the received message contained, so I was immediately suspicious. I have on rare occasions received spam texts before, and my mobile number was at the time available online on my facebook profile. I figured the sender was likely a marketer (machine or human) maybe from an internet dating website. There was also the possibility that the sender was a not-so-well-known friend who was assuming I had their number stored in my phone. I sent the following reply.

Me:
Maybe. Identify yourself. I don't know who you are.

A few minutes later I received a response.

2010-03-06 12:36pm
Blond hair, blue eyes, 5ft 2, slim 2 medium build. Up2 u.

The response in my mind almost certainly confirmed the internet-dating-site scam theory. But since I was curious to know which site and how they got my number, I asked again.

Me:
Give me your name, and tell me how you got my number.

2010-03-06 12:40pm
I dont c how thats important. U either want fun or u dont.

This response told me that the marketer was human, not machine. I enjoy communicating with humans, and I figured that even if this person was only interested in my money, since we were texting I could simply ignore him or her if he or she become annoying. Also the closing statement had an undeniable logic, suggesting that the person could be reasoned with. I played along.

Me:
Sure then. I want fun. Who wouldn't want fun? What comes next?

2010-03-06 12:44pm
Tell me what u look like?

I was disappointed by this response. The marketer had not done his or her homework. My photo is displayed along with my mobile number on my facebook profile, and also I have a personal website that contains photos of me. If the marketer had got my phone number manually from the web, then he or she was just plain lazy and hadn't bothered to read my profile. Alternatively the number could have been read from a large list of phone numbers automatically gleaned from many web-pages. Either way I did not want to waste time talking to someone who knew nothing about me, so I sent a closing message.

Me:
If you don't know who I am, then I see no point in continuing this conversation. Call some other random person. Good luck with whatever it is you hope to achieve.

2010-03-06 12:50pm
Ur loss. Who knocks back a fuck.

This response was consistent with my hypothesis, so I considered the matter closed. A few hours later however, I was a little surprised to receive another text from the same number.

2010-03-06 04:55pm
If u dont want it. Do u have any mates that are?

I figured that maybe a new employee was struggling to meet his or her quota of suckers for the day, and as home-time was fast approaching, he or she had decided to re-try those few leads who had actually responded to the first message. I felt some pity, as the marketer obviously had a low level of literacy, and might struggle to find another job if fired. Since I was at home when I received this message, and two of my housemates were nearby, I verbally forwarded them the poorly worded offer, along with a brief description of the preceding messages. I did not mention my theory of internet scammers being the source of the messages, and my housemates came to the same conclusion I did. This reinforced my conviction. Neither I nor my housemates sent a reply, but a few days later I received another text from the same number.

2010-03-09 01:10pm
Dont u even just want a one off?

Whatever business this is, I thought, they really must be struggling. But also, this message evidenced an approach to money-making so inefficient, that I wondered again about the possibility that this was not a marketer after all. I sent an abrupt reply.

Me:
I don't know who you are or what you're talking about. Unless you identify yourself, and tell me how you know me, I will not reply to any more of your messages.

The response I received was decidedly non-marketing-like.

2010-03-09 01:30pm
Boring.

There was now enough doubt in my mind that the sender was a marketer, that I decided to search through my phone, just in case I had corresponded with this person before. My phone is a primitive model, and there is no way of doing this efficiently. I began searching back through all the messages I had received on my phone. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I had in fact corresponded with a person with the same number around seven weeks ago, while commuting on the train to work.

The story now backtracks to our initial correspondence.

2010-01-18 08:08am
Who is this? Ur numbers in my ph.

During the couple of weeks preceding the receipt of this message, I had been advertising a room to rent. I had made many calls to people who had either advertised that they were seeking rental accommodation in my area, or had responded to my ad. I was not at all surprised that someone I did not know would have my number in their phone. I replied with my name.

Me:
Tom McDonnell.

2010-01-18 08:23am
Do you know this number? Age? Where you from?

Me:
I do not know who you are.

2010-031-18 08:32am
Don't want 2?

At this point I remember being bewildered by the conversation I was having. I had a vague image in my mind of a school-aged girl who spends a lot of time texting, was bored and had searched through her phone as part of a regular ritual to organise her social life. I know that I had called at least one eighteen year old girl while seeking a housemate, so that theory made sense. I imagined she had in mind some guy she may have met at a party, whom she thought may have found her number and called her when her phone was off. Since none of that applied to me, I felt that answering in the affirmative would waste her and my time, since I would then no doubt be subjected to further questioning that would end to no benefit as soon as she found out I was not who she hoped I was. A direct answer in the negative would have been rude and not representative of my thoughts, so I took the time to formulate a better reply.

Me:
I have no pressing need to know your identity. Since you say I have called you once, although I cannot remember doing so, then maybe I do know you, and so maybe I will call you again. If so, we will learn each other's identity then. If not, let us each carry on our own separate lives, not being burdened by the need to log every past association.

2010-01-18 09:36am
Um ok. Up2 u. Friends would of been nice tho.

That was the last I heard from the mysterious texter until seven weeks later, with the 'U up for some fun?' message.

The story now jumps back to where we left it. The last reply was the single word 'Boring'.

The situation had now changed completely. I was dealing with a real person, most likely a young but legal-aged female. This probable female had offered me sex. The possibility of sex had not even occurred to me that morning on the train seven weeks ago - I had had an image of a typical schoolgirl in mind I suppose, who would not be interested in a man approaching thirty. Perhaps years of involuntary celibacy have left me blind to the opportunities that surround me. Anyhow, direct offers of sex do not come often for a man such as myself, and sex being a major attraction and a prime occupier of my thoughts, I felt duty-bound to pursue this opportunity to wherever it may lead. I sent a short but playful correction to my previous ultimatum.

Me:
I changed my mind. I will play your game. Still bored?

The response was right back on topic.

2010-03-09 02:56pm
Its not a game. I want sex.

Me:
Do you propose that I meet you somewhere? Where?

2010-03-09 03:01pm
If I wasnt working 12-14 hr days

So I'm not going to get sex after all, I thought. This girl is just playing games. But even though I now thought the likelihood of sex was slim, I welcome any contact with females as a rule, and the fact that sex was even being discussed was progress of a sort. I gently pointed out the obvious flaw in her plan to satisfy her immediate sexual need.

Me:
How are you and I going to have sex if you cannot meet me?

2010-03-09 03:09pm
I will work it out. Y the change of heart?

2010-03-09 03:32pm
?

She had expected a prompt reply. I was busy preparing for a job interview at that stage, and too much of my time was being spent writing text messages. My phone as I have already mentioned is a primitive model, and writing text messages is tedious. I tried calling her number to chat, but she did not pick up. Doubts of the sincerity of her offer resurfaced, and I vented my frustration.

Me:
I am done messaging. Call me to chat.

2010-03-09 03:54pm
Im at work till late.

A day passed. I began to wonder whether I had been too abrupt, and had maybe put her off. I decided to be humble, and answer her questions in another text.

Me:
In answer to you question yesterday regarding my change of heart, I searched my phone for your number and found that we had corresponded a few weeks back. You had asked me why your phone contained a record of a call from my number. A few messages were exchanged. The style of your texts indicated that perhaps you were not a scammer after my money. I am still not entirely convinced especially since you have not answered my voice calls. In answer to your other question, I am 5'10, pale skinned and of a muscular build. I am excited by the prospect of a sexual encounter, or would be happy to just be yr texting pal. Whatever you like. Feel free to message me any time.

2010-03-10 04:27pm
What a beautiful msg. Thanku.

The response indicated that my message had had good effect. A danger was though, that I was beginning to seem like someone with whom to build a relationship rather than someone with whom to satisfy animal urges. This is the 'nice' guy's curse - an affliction that follows men like myself in every interaction we have with females, suppressing even the idea of sex and subjugating us to friendship-type roles. My fears were realised by the follow-up message.

2010-03-10 04:57pm
R u a commitment guy?

Arrgh! It seems that my 'niceness' is somehow conveyed even via my disembodied and disenvoiced words. Also it was not at all clear to me what she wanted to hear at that point. Did she want a commitment guy? Or was this an elimination question, designed to weed out those who are incapable of enjoying sex without developing emotional attachment? I decided to be honest, and in effect to hedge my bets.

Me:
I am very inexperienced as far as relationships go. I am interested both in casual encounters and getting to know a girl. If you want either from me, how about starting by telling me your name and something about you. I don't even know whether you are local to me. All the talk about meeting for sex may be a waste of time if you are too far away.

2010-03-10 06:09pm
My name is rachel

(I have given her a fake name to protect her privacy)

2010-03-10 06:23pm
Call if u want

At this point I called her, and we voice-chatted. Upon hearing her voice and a little about her, I was reminded of the time she and I had chatted before. She had responded to my advertisement seeking a housemate. I was reminded that she lived on the other side of the city, worked near the centre but on my side, and wanted to move closer to her workplace. I learned that she was slightly younger than me, and lived with her boyfriend. She was unhappy in her relationship, but did not want to break up with her boyfriend until she found alternative accommodation. She said she had used the random-text technique to meet men in the past. She described herself as a commitment girl, but said that due to her current problems with her boyfriend, she wanted to take time off from relationships, while having a friend who could fulfill her sexual needs. She seemed like a nice girl and after talking with her, my only problem with the proposed casual sex arrangement was the obvious one - that she had a boyfriend whom I assumed would oppose the idea. She seemed confused about how she would solve the accommodation/bad-relationship problem. She bombarded me with a few more questions into the evening.

2010-03-10 07:16pm
So did you find a housemate?

2010-03-10 07:34pm
How old r u? What do u do 4 work?

Since we were now on speaking terms, I figured I would answer her questions by voice. I was in a good mood for unrelated reasons.

Me:
Tell me the latest time I can call you tonight. I scored a new job today, so I plan to stay up and have a few drinks to celebrate. I'll call you later on and you can quiz me on all the details when I am inebriated.

2010-03-10 07:54pm
Its cool ill just talk 2 u when i talk 2 u.

I can't remember whether I ended up calling her that night or not. I stayed up late that night, drinking with my housemates. I think I must have called her, because in one of my later messages I refer to our voice chats (plural). But if I did call her I have no recollection about what we spoke about. Her text questions continued the following day.

2010-03-11 12:14pm
So how old r u?

2010-03-11 01:40pm
When did u have sex last?

I tried calling her to voice-chat, but she did not answer. I therefore responded in text, and tried to push the agenda back to casual sex, rather than answering her employment question.

Me:
A long time ago. My sex life is nowhere near as active as I would like it to be. Should you take me on as a casual sex partner, you will find me to be a most eager and willing participant.

2010-03-11 01:50pm
What have u done sexually that u love?

I knew I could not be happy with anything I wrote in answer to that question. I cringe when reading my answer but it was the best thing I could come up with at the time.

Me:
I love the intoxicating scent of a female held close to me. Her breath on my face and neck and my arms around her supple waist. I love it when she discovers my erection and mercifully decides to free it from the tight constraints of my clothing. When she invites me inside her and I feel her insides squeezing me the rapture I feel is overwhelming.

2010-03-11 02:11pm
U sound much more like a commitment guy then a casual guy.

Again she detects my 'niceness', and again I hedge my bets.

Me:
I can happily play either role. You need not worry about me becoming emotionally attached if all you want is a fuck buddy. I am not at all possesive.

But she persists.

2010-03-11 02:37pm
Honestly, would u rather commitment tho?

I thought a while about what answer she was looking for here, still being unsure whether she wanted me for a casual sex partner or a longer-term relationship. She prompted me for a response while I was mid-way through typing.

2010-03-11 03:07pm
?

I decided to guardedly choose the path of the non-committer, while arguing that commitment and non-commitment are in effect the same thing for a relationship that works.

Me:
I've never felt the need to choose. My ideal relationship is one where both parties are free to pursue other options at any time. If two people in such a relationship remain together it means that for each person, the other is the person he/she most wants to be with. For a 'committed' relationship this cannot be said, since neither partner can leave without welching on their commitment and so may choose to stay despite the appearance of a more attractive prospect. This may be read as an explanation of why men do not like the word 'commitment'. It is antithetical to freedom. So in final answer to your question, im probably not a commitment guy.

2010-03-11 03:43pm
All the best then.

Evidently I had chosen wrongly. I was surprised by her message, but I figured that a girl who offers sex to a man on the end of an unknown phone number, randomly picked from her phone, is not the ideal girl to make a commitment to, and so I was philosophical about the rejection. She followed up with another message before I had decided on a reply.

2010-03-11 04:01pm
I dont want what ur after. Sorry.

I then decided to call her to voice-chat. She did not pick up, but responded in text.

2010-03-11 04:16pm
Y did u call? Whats up?

I responded in kind.

Me:
I just want to understand what happened in our last text exchanges. I thought you wanted a male friend who could fulfill you sexually while you have some time off from relationships. That was the position I was applying for. The point of my previous message was to demonstrate that I am opposed to possesiveness in relationships. A healthy relationship in my opinion is one where both partners are involved because they each genuinely feel something for the other, not because of a promise made long ago. My opinion on this matter has developed over time having seen many unhappy marriages, including that of my own parents. I would hate for your and my short relationship to be severed because of a misunderstanding about the meaning of the word 'commitment'. Tell me when I can call you. I would like to talk with you some more.

2010-03-11 04:39pm
But u dont want commitment and thats an issue 4 me.

Me:
I don't want commitment in the sense of committing to a deal or contract. I am open to the possibility of commitment in the sense of taking a longer term view of a relationship and endevouring to make it work. The second meaning is no doubt the one you meant all along. I blame the stupid English language for the confusion.

2010-03-11 05:11pm
Im lost

2010-03-12 08:37pm
I dont know what u want sorry

I was at a pub with a few friends when I received that message. I recounted the whole saga to my friends and listened to their advice. Later that night I decided to close the dialogue.

Me:
I am really just a horny guy who was tantalised by your initial offer of casual sex with no strings attached. I gather from your most recent messages and from our voice-chats that you in fact desire a man intent on beginning a longer term relationship. You are right in judging that I am not such a man. I described your and my correspondence to a friend of mine. His advice was that I should have just asked you Where? When? and maybe sent you a picture of my hard cock. In his words, 'We are all animals. Words just complicate things'. My friend was blunt but wise. I wish you success in solving your relationship problems. Continue to feel free to contact me for any reason. If you're ever near the Dandenongs and feel the need for sex, I'll always be keen :)

2010-03-13 08:49am
Friends only it is

So ended my brief romantic textual dalliance with the mysterious Rachel (not her real name).

First Blog

This post marks the creation of the blog of tomcdonnell.

The purpose of the blog is to:

1. Clarify my thoughts by putting them in writing
2. Improve my writing by way of practice
3. Provide information and entertainment to readers.

I aim to add a substantial post at least once every month. I will write about whatever holds my interest.