I have been told yet again that I should make a profile on eHarmony, the dating site where "experts" help you find love. I just Googled it so that I was certain I know what I am talking about. They have "Free Dating," "Dating Advice," "Black Dating" (I shit you not), and "Senior Dating." This could get confusing if you are a Black senior who wants to date for free, I imagine. But. . . you know. . . they are the experts. I assume they cover all of that in the "Dating Advice" section.
WTF? Really? First of all, I can't imagine what my profile would look like. Yes I can. I'd like to think it would be really special and weird, but it would be just like everybody else's. Along with the profile, I believe, you need to post a photo. Jesus. I've heard from people who have done dating sites. Apparently everybody uses a fifteen year old glamor shot for their profile picture. I've never heard anyone say, "My God, their picture didn't do them justice!" Never. You should see the selfies I can cook up. After about 100 or 150 photos, I find one I can stand. It is usually in the bathroom mirror with the overhead lights turned off and a soft light coming from the window. A little slow shutter speed makes things just hazy enough and adds just the right amount of blur to make me look. . . I don't know. . . .
I often get requests for headshots, of course. People I meet in the street give me their phone number and ask me to send them some pics. I assume they think I am someone else, especially now that I have "blonded" my hair. I like to tell people I am was a championship surfer. "Really?" they ask, seemingly glad to be in the presence of someone almost known. "Yes, there were a couple years where I was doing really well, getting in all the mags, but after the accident. . . ." They usually nod then, eyes averted, lips pursed, before looking back into my eyes with a smile.
I actually worked for a man who met his wife on eHarmony. They seemed very proud of that. She was a Life Coach--I swear to God with my hand on my heart that I am not making this up--so that might account for it. They were as fake a couple as I had ever come across. I mean there was not an ounce of spontaneity or sincerity that I could find, and I would have to say that the eHarmony Experts had done their job well. They really had found the perfect match there.
So yesterday, I took some selfies in the mirror before I climbed into the shower. My hair looked great since I had washed it the day before. It has just the right amount of glitter and bounce to it. I was pleased. When I got out of the shower and reached for a towel, I saw my phone sitting on the bathroom vanity, and. . well. . . I mean. . . it wasn't a "dick pic" really, but. . . Jesus, this is embarrassing. . . . yea, I took a naked selfie.
I don't think I'll ever do that again. I don't understand it. I see myself naked in the mirror every time I step out of the shower. I shave naked, put on my face creams and brush my teeth and dry my hair naked. I know I have put on weight, but I never think I look that bad. So what is it that the camera does? There is a line in "Barcelona," where a fellow is getting ready for a date. After prepping in the mirror, he turns to his friend and says, "How can I look so good in the mirror and so bad in pictures?"
I looked at the phone then back to the mirror. They just didn't look the same. In the mirror, I looked pretty good. In the photo, however, I looked like a fat old satyr or a big piece of heavy machinery that retained some of its power but was broken nonetheless. I kept looking at it, amazed, thinking if I looked at it long enough, it would start to make sense. Maybe, I thought, if I take another, different angle. . . .
I'll look at them again today and see if they have gotten any better.
Don't judge me. Don't be a hater. You do stupid shit, too, you just don't write about it. That doesn't make you superior. And you know what? I'm good at taking nudes. Get your ass over here and I'll fix you up. I know all the angles.
It wasn't like I was going to go on eHarmony, anyway. It is not just that there are 400 men to every woman on the site, or that I think it is pretty creepy. I do think that, but it is no just that. There is only one way for me. When I used to go out with my friends on a weekend, I was always looking to meet the girl. They were looking for a girl. I never walked out with anyone. They usually did.
I'm a romantic, you see. It has to be instantaneous. It is in the eyes. That is where the trouble begins. . . in the eyes. That is where the immediate attraction is visible. There is the excitement. There is the flame. I've also learned to mimic the face of the person, too, just so I can feel what they are feeling. You don't believe that? Try it. You can feel the sadness or the anger or the madness they must be feeling at that moment. It will tell you whether to run or not. But really, it is all in the meeting of those eyes.
And lips. There is nothing more exciting than the first kiss. I mean, if it is the thing. It is the first permission, the invitation to everything to come. It is the Golden Moment.
Anything else is just internet sex. Many prefer that. From what I've read, most Japanese men do, but I think the phenomena is spreading throughout the world. I've known several couples who have broken up because one or the other of them met someone online. For real.
I'm o.k. alone until I see something in someone else's eye. I know, now, though, they have to like old broken satyrs. I'm going to stick to head shots from now on. This body has been broken and now the once powerful muscles are slathered in fat. I chose today's illustration because that is exactly what I saw, not in the mirror, but on the phone. In the mirror, I still look like a youngish Marlon Brando.
Last night (since this has become a confessional site), I ended up watching the rest of the Teri Garr appearances on David Letterman. In total, I watched Teri Garr from 1977 (on the Johny Carson Show) to 2005. By then, this loveliest of people had withered due to MS and a subsequent but not related brain aneurism. Her physical appearance was completely transformed. One might say it sad or shocking, but she didn't. She still had exactly the same personality, the same wonderful sensibility and flirty attitude toward the world. The world will break you, I know, but even knowing, it can still be disquieting.
To finish off the evening on a lighter note, I watched one episode of "Below Deck Mediterranean." At the end of the episode, a good looking Zimbabwe boy who had broken up with his girl who we got to know from the prior season, confessed that he was texting her. One of his boat mates, a roguish kid from Liverpool, comments, "You writing to tell her about your little dick and big heart?"
Ha! There it is! The Romantic and the Rogue. The kid from Liverpool was out to fuck everything. Zimbabwe, well. . . he was pining still for his Own True Love.
I guess I'll eat some lettuce and get ready for the gym. I know that it is impossible to lose weight, but you have to try to keep from putting more on, right? I just read an article, though, that says exercise has very little effect on body weight. It is all in the genes and in the diet. But it is Friday and tonight is Friday night, and those are not good days to start a diet. Tonight, I'm going to party--sushi and a bottle of sake. Woo-hoo! Alone, sure, but maybe I'll eat outside. Who knows? Someone may want my autograph.
I was in a couple of awful low budget films a long time ago just shortly after the Lumière brothers broke into the business.
ReplyDeleteThere is a standard rule of the industry that film adds 10 to 20 lbs. of bulk. One of the reasons actors tend to be shorter and skinnier when you see them in real life is that the camera adds bulk. When I was still making films, I was 5’ 5” and weighed 120 pounds. On screen I looked average size. In one I played a leading male big game hunter who tracked and hunted down people for sport. In the same movie people in the 5’ 10” 180 pounds range looked like tubby Lurches. They were the “elephants” in the film.
It is actually scientific that a camera lens adds at least 10 pounds of bulk because of focal length.
https://giphy.com/gifs/l0HlCoPjdkJOCxYQw?utm_source=iframe&utm_medium=embed&utm_campaign=Embeds&utm_term=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.infoniac.ru%2Fnews%2FProstaya-hitrost-kak-luchshe-vsego-vyglyadet-na-fotografiyah-selfi.html
The above is a gif made by a photographer to show how various camera barrels and lenses change the bulk of a figure.
I think the portrait of you does not do you justice. As bad as cameras are, paint is worse. You’ve seen Rubens paintings, right? If film adds 10 to 20 lbs. – paint adds at least 30 to 50 lbs.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Paul_Rubens#/media/File:Rubens_Venus_at_a_Mirror_c1615.jpg
I remember the E Harmony couple – soulless golems devoid of personality – and pretty evil. I still owe the guy a visit with dark intentions.
E-Harmony sucks. I old you years ago that you should join a church (synagogue, mosque, temple) Great place to meet people. You don’t have to believe that shit at all, just show up and be personable and memorize the rituals. We’ve both done plenty of that in other institutions: factories, restaurants, art galleries, theatres, all have their rituals and rules of engagement. Do you think The Woke go to art museums because they actually appreciate or value the work itself? Please. The advantage about a church though is that the same people will always show up at the same place again at least once a week. They are even impervious to stalkers. They will greet you at the door. Trust me on this. I’m your friend; I am not like the others.
ReplyDeleteoh. that c.c. is worth the cover charge.
i wrote a long and detailed post at lunch. eating my avocado toast from d.d. wow. it's good. that toast.
you know. i once brought home a gold framed mirror - to the Cottage. i have a thing for gold framed items. i think. anyway. i left it there - thinking it would be nice somewhere in that little hovel i so adored.
the next time i was there - the d.o.m. i was involved with for a great many years had hung it - in a tilted fashion - on the wall across from the bed - high close to the ceiling. under the Picasso poster from a NY exhibit that was just Picasso's eyes.
for me. it has always been intelligence, a wicked sense of humor and a boyish devilish/sweetness, of course until the One I Thought was the One (at 21 years old - wtf) took up with someone else. and i ran away and married a v. handsome surfer, lacking any bookish ways turned NASCAR Trump Lover. *shrug*
no regrets.
but now? you could be a manbun wearing brad pitt look alike - if you don't challenge my mind or make me laugh - nopey.
it's a spiritual thang.
sometimes, i used to worry - about that mirror and what that damn Poet could see going on in it - when we were - well you - know being Holy and all -
he never kicked me out of that bed. and i ain't your beautician. i got some jiggle.
im vain. not in a flash myself all over the world vain - more i want to look good for my one and only and me vain.
you'll be fine. some girls like to bite those areas of flesh. just gotta put that in your profile. "Biteable." or something like dat. or eat lettuce, wear a sauna suit and kill yourself while having no fun hoping for miracles.
hey!
did i tell you - there is a Soutine/de Kooning exhibit at the Barnes in Philly. SOUTINE. I missed a show in Paris one year. It was in some smaller museum out of town. I've always had a thing for his brutal meat-ishness. And de Kooning I've come to really appreciate these last several years. The Museum Orsay is a contributor or sponsor - something. It is about color. Colors.
my kid and his girl are buying philadelphia row house. in an old italian section of philly. june trip set.
i think you should. sign up. you would find it an absolutely fascinating social research project, i bet. as an observationalist of course. the harmony thing.
or go to church, of course. all the pervy girls are there. oh. not that i'm insinuating you like pervy girls or anything. i haven't a clue. about that.
okies. bed time. it's a little sloppy this post - i have sex on the brain. it happens.
I know the camera adds weight, of course, but it is more grotesque than that. And no, I won't be making any profiles.
ReplyDelete