Red Hot Predicament

As I stand here over the radiator heater no doubt burning my balls off and making this blog entry entirely useless in the long run (it's cold outside), I can't help but think of the predicament I find myself in with the "dating" service I recently decided to pay a subscription for. Well, that and the fact that I'm probably ruining my back and ass muscles by leaning over the heater to the keyboard to type this blog. What I need is a keyboard stand so I can burn my testicles with heat while I type without the back strain.

I'm getting off topic and it's only the first paragraph. Sheesh.

Anyway, the predicament I find myself in concerns RedHotPie, the "dating" site I just started paying for because my chances with girls — real girls (as opposed to fake girls) — seems to be smaller than your chance of winning lottery. Shit, you oughta buy yourself a lottery ticket!

So I'm there and I'm sending girls messages and flirts and the messages are personal with messages about how gorgeous they are or how interesting they sound, but really, I know I'm probably fucking this up just as badly as I would in real life. The problem with the way I write is it's exactly the same as the way I speak. I speak the way I write and I write the way I speak. And in this case this is problematic because…

I have no fucking clue how to speak to girls.

Seriously, what did you expect?

Now it could be that the people might not be getting the messages. I mean RedHotPie has just gone through an upgrade from the ASP to the ASPX platform which has made it worse and I probably have Murphy's Law on my side (which is a bad thing) giving me as many bugs as it can muster.

Still, I can't help but think that my lack of responses has to do with my inability to speak to women. Girls. Females. 

Grills I can speak to. I speak their language. Take a slab of meat, heat it up, use a spatula to flip it. Sizzle sizzle sizzle. Grills I get.

Girls I don't. "Hi… err… I'm Leigh… excuse me while I migrate to the closest corner where I can pretend to know what's going on while I watch all the other guys get with you…"

So this is my plan. I have a subscription to a site that encourages "dating"… and by "dating" I mean "fucking" because really, RHP is little more than a community to get people fucking. And I'm all for that… provided I get fucked and not by the service.

So this is my plan. Really. I'm going to say it this time. I'm not going to go off on a tangent and follow my statements with random crap that– bugger. I've done it again. Rightio. Third time's a charm.

So this is my plan: I want you to leave comments for me with ideas for what I should say in these messages to get the girls interested in me.

That's it. That's my brilliant plan. I need your help.

And with my track record of comment pulling on this site, I might just be able to send a message with that edumacation in… oh… six months… if I'm lucky… and getting lucky is the very point of this whole thing.

One of these days I'll learn how to speak to girls. Until then, I'll just have to settle for grills.

Sizzle sizzle. Sizzle sizzle.