i've come across this topic sort of to a point of bother
to have to either write about it or yawn...
dating?
             oh sure, i once had a date...
i picked up this African girl at a bus-stop...
i lied to her about going to a friend's house
to smoke some marijuana...
she was so eager to come with me: she did come...
at the bus stop where we were supposed
to get off i finally told her the truth...
listen... i'm not actually going to visit a friend
to smoke some marijuana...
i'm... going to the brothel...
so she retorted: so why did you lie?!
erm... you're a woman... and i've just told you:
i'm going to a, brothel...
i was trying to consider how you might feel about that...
i partially walked her home,
met a high-school friend down the street...
hey! Richard! turns out it wasn't Richard...
rather Daniel...
do girls really get on buses at night
with guys who are going to the brothel, these days?!
they must do...
she started blah-blahing about having
a saxophone player boyfriend... well: i'm not going
to sleep with you, am i, i just told you
that i have a girlfriend at the brothel...
that's the thing with women...
you never really know whether you're going to
get ***** with them for a hard-on...
it's so much easier with prostitutes... since?
there's no middle-man no cars'-salesman invoked...
no middle-ground *******...
you're there for ****-it... you're not there to stage this
western culture... what is it?
dating culture? you go for a meal
then expect to ****?! i tend to work on an empty stomach...
i tend to **** slightly drunk...
what gave these people the idea that ******* was
the best end result after eating a meal and having
a dull conversation about work?!
will these same people talk about art?
movies? music? poetry? biology? chemistry?
no... same **** but a different cover...
o.k., o.k. yawn... today i found myself
taking a break from doing the household chores
while fiddling with a guitar...
Cream's Sunshine of Your Love...
yeah... itchy fingers... Deep Purple's Black Night...
Black Sabbath's Solitude... and Black Sabbath's
Black Sabbath... perched on the windowsill...
i don't think i have ever dated...
well... this one speed-dating event at university
that i thought of more as a joke than anything
since... oh my my... those girls were:
WILD eyed...
        but this random black girl i picked up
at a bus-stop... she was already spinning a false
narrative in her head...
first i lied about going to visit a friend to smoke
some marijuana... i gave up that **** a long time ago...
then i told her: this is where the brothel is...
you're o.k. heading home on your own?
no! because if i go home with you i might be accused
of not being able to get a hard-on!
that's not my ******* fault!
    if i drink too much and the ******* is playing coy
with pony-tails... yeah... i'm a bit...
well **** me... you're not 15, are you?
but most of the time?! MAJOR MAJOR!
i paid, haven't i... sure, sometimes it might happen
that i have ******* but don't have time to
*******... oh my god... that's when they're really ****-hurt...
or when you authentically make them ******...
double the ******* ****-hurt...

i don't think i could ever have *** "authentically":
with the sort of intimacy that lies outside the realm
of having read Marquis de Sade...
not so much bargaining with sadism per se...
but... i don't trust women and their tales of ******...
i can withhold mine, *******, yes, but make it vocal?
no... like a gorilla... mute button on...

dating... what a ****** concept...
what about that song from Fiddler on the Roof...
matchmaker matchmaker...
i'd sooner be found hanging on a tree
than be found in (1) gym...
or (2) on a date...
     you'll sooner find me in a brothel...
to **** with dating...

i mean: every time i open a bottle of bourbon...
the scent of it... almost sickly sweet...
i roll my eyes back so only the sclera is visible
and i think...
i was there... i was so unusually born into
this partake of life...

                and as much as i love cooking...
dealing with raw, uncooked items... vegetables...
but esp. the meats with bones intact...
rubbing my fingertips on bricks prior to entering
the flesh-market... then fiddling with the naked bodies
in dimmed lights...
i always need to rough-up my fingertips
before touching as soft as a woman's body...
crucial... the dimming of the lights...
the body is doubly-exemplified, doubly-contorting!

i only write about *** because i remember that:
i'm not getting enough of it...
in England i'm living either among ******* nuns,
single mothers, or groomed teenage girls by
Pakistani gangs!     well... yeah... sure... great prospect
for dating! let me just check my calendar
for availability!                    *******!

i'd rather go to a brothel than go on a date...
i ought to be expected to pay of the date, right?
for the meal?
what are the chances of getting *** by the end of it?
zero? 1%?
but if i go to the brothel among Romanian
or Turkic women... what am i going to eat?
erm... ****... what are the chances of not getting
properly mind-numbed-******...
0%... i even stop being nostalgic about
1960s music... those baby boomers can
pass into the void... i'll allow them an easy pass...
if they're not terribly bothersome...

dating... what a 20th century "thing"...
why would i date?
i just had a date, with a black girl...
who took the bus with me from Romford Market
all the way to Goodmayes Station...
   in the night... why do i come across as this
trustworthy?
come to think of it... i might find some spare
time to abuse that... if i'll feel suprisingly bored...
after all: warfare tacticians all it: collateral...
no? i just might... feel somewhat numbed by life,
bored... some collateral might just be ushered out...

weird, though, no? i i thought it was rather weird...
considering i had the killing instinct...
why? i became bored of thinking about...
how... how?! 3D chess?! o.k. i can understand
expanding a su-doku grid... what the **** are you
on about?! talking about 3D chess?!
oh... ****** chess?! sophist chess?!
that sort of chess?! o.k. fair enough...
San Francisco central *******...
            ergo? well you're up! hey guv!

i don't do young easily heart-broken men either...
who... hmm... write for... grandmas?!
of course i'm *******... the times i dated
i couldn't get a hard... but the times i visited
a brothel... hey presto! no problem!
something's wrong with your women...
unless of course they're getting ***** by Pakistanis
and are underage...
how's that?! thank you... for being deported as
"illegal" circa 1997!

sorry, what?! i'm hard of hearing...
i first need to flirt with the sounds of ****** agony before
i leave: if even i leave: a reply...
i don't care for English women... i prefer Romanian /
Turkish girls... NO YOU SILLY ****!
how does a girl get handled by Pakistani
grooming gangs: you ******* ****?!

i'm not dealing with that ****...
because i owe you... what?!
           ha ha...      if the Pakistanis can **** your girls...
and you easily accept that circumstance...
accept this... *******.