I am in the very early stages of creating my own online dating service and feel I am being hamstrung by a distinct lack of market research. While my knowledge of the human heart and further downs are without peer, my understanding of the business world is vestigial at best. In times of need I turn to you, my friends and loyal readers to review my first foray into uniting the unloved and too lazy to date outside their social circle.

Keep in mind this is a very small part of a much more exhaustive questionnaire, but it should give you a sense of the tact and shape of things to come. Your cooperation in this matter is appreciated.

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My beloved Sally and I’s brief foray into American university radio. For a couple of novices we were pretty damn solid: Sally brought smooth facilitation and an in depth understanding of the subject matter,whilst I brought the glib charm. Steak and Sizzle for the win.

Click below for our Canadian invasion of Jesse and The Germans radio show.

Upstate Radio Adventure

When I was twenty I could only explain myself in terms of the person that I would become. The degree I was pursuing, the books I was reading, the girls that I was trying to fuck. There was intent and affect but very little substance. Over time the aspirational conceit faded, I didn’t know what I wanted to do but I had a sense of who I was independent of context.  I knew my values and beliefs even if I didn’t have a clear venue in which to apply them.

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When I was five my best friend was a turtle named Samuel. He died early in our relationship. While I suspect a preexisting medical condition my indifference to the limits of turtle physiology may have played some part. His death proved little impediment to out friendship. Even while alive Samuel was not a dynamic individual, he largely spent his day sitting motionless in a shoe box obstinately refusing the bounty of processed cheese and root beer that I provided him. Occasionally I dragged him around my neighborhood on a leash, little turtle sparks kicking up from the bottom of his shell.

To be honest I didn’t realize that he’d passed until his head fell off on one of our walks. There were a few moments of grief and doubt: Was there anything I could have done to prevent this? I quickly decided thus is the will of god, retied the string around his right leg, and continued our walk undeterred. Days and limbs passed between us until only the shell remained, my dreams as hollow as my turtle, and I decided to give up the pretense.

Akin to this I used to have a different blog. I loved it and nurtured it and ultimately killed it with indifference. I dragged the shell of it behind me for years before deciding I’d be better off with a new pet. It’s hard to shed the nostalgia and emotional investment, but weighty things at rest are difficult to move. I’m going to try and publish on regular days (Sunday and Thursday) to hold my feet to the fire. Let’s get down to business.