They're Not Even Trying Anymore

I joined OKCupid because my good (see: super pervy) friend was on it 24/7. I mean, all the time. And this isn't all that odd, I have lots of friends on this website who have had mild success (see: 2 week relationships). But this boy was/is scoring tail. Mad tail. From women. Attractive women. And a lot of them. I was wary, being that this friend is the type of friend who will hang out in high school parking lots once he hits 37.

I had to know: how he had tricked these women into not only into going on numerous dates (albeit charming fort-building-cookie-making sorts of dates no self-respecting hipster twentysomething female could say no to), but into SLEEPING with him? What did he say to them? And who inhabits this vast disgusting, pathetic and weird part of the internet? WHAT MAGIC FILLS THIS PLACE?!

I had to know.

I had hope.

I have a need for constant affirmation.

Now, I've previously joined "dating websites" and enjoyed some of the most depraved, reprobate messages I've ever witnessed in my time on the internet. For the most part, every other one you receive is from some douche and the ones in-between are men whose profiles are peppered with pathos, and they always go something like this:

"I think you're pretty/funny/interesting. We like/don't like the same things. Inane question about something you mentioned?"

But my god, readers, every once and awhile you get a true gem of deplorable that belongs in the back of a Greyhound bus station.

Example: the message you're about to read comes from a 47 year old man I had absolutely no contact with prior to this excerpt from the next great American novel, which was titled "Contradictions" (which if you know what that means, you'll see it has no relevancy in this message whatsoever). Read on, but be forewarned, you will gag.

I don't know why it is, but the image keeps coming to mind of me engaging you in the rawest physical activity. I mean...stripping you naked and pushing you up against a wall and giving you all that you can take, and then a little more, but not too much, until you're delierious...then picking you up in my arms,with you facing me, and lowering you on me, impaling you while standing up, until you are...full, and suddenly breathing in little gasps, digging your nails into my chest. Somehow, I know you not only want that, but need it, as a part of your entire creative cycle. And yet, once all is done, once you regain composure, and become isolated by your art, you are an awesome intellect, someone of delicacy and grace. I understand the contradictions; they're so much me.

Craig


Thanks Craig. That's gross. And great. Best of luck to you in all your endeavors.

Anyways, knowing what I knew about awesome creeps on the interwebs (and my uncanny ability to attract them), I took another chance. I held my nose and stuck my finger into yet another one of the internet's buttholes.

Soon after joining I was messaged with what I can only describe as the most unintentional confessional of a message a man has ever sent me. Now, judging by his grammar and sentence structures, I'm going to say he's unaware of a lot of things. Like most everything. Like everything. Ever. I'm surprised he knew his own name. "Why all the assumptions, Meredith, lest ye too be judged?"

Because this guy here has been living a lie for what seems like his entire life.

This is the message I received from him with, like the previously mentioned Creepy Craig, no prior communication. What you are about to read is the most closeted homosexual thing you will ever read. In your life. I'm looking at your diary, Travolta.

So I present to you for your enjoyment a message from eazyp424:

What's up? I'm Eric I live in east lake view. (boys town) I have a lot of fun here I'm straight but get hit on by a lot of guys. It might be cuz I like going to gay bars. like the lucky horseshoe (a gay male strip club) some guy followed me out of there 5 blocks to the next bar hitting on me. last week I went tp a cross dresser show at roscoe's it was awesome. the pride parade was the best parade I've been too. And when I went to lollapolooza and lost my friends on top of that my boy had my phone. So I took the train home and meet 2 gay guys and a girl we went to get food. Then they parked a block from my house. so we walked back together. out of no where the 1 guy tried to kiss me. it was a lil wiered. I can only blame myself tho. anyways if you want to talk more hit me up.

Soak that in for a second.

Now take a look at his picture.

This may be, outside of a German bathhouse, the GAYEST THING THAT HAS EVER EXISTED IN DENIAL OF ITSELF. WHY in God's name DID YOU TELL ME ALL OF THIS? WHY?! And I'm not even going to get into the didactics of dissecting this image. Anyone in a 7th grade gym class can break down the insipid head tilt, the fact that I think he's either in a mall or Navy Pier, and THAT DRINK.

I wish you guys could see his eyes. They stare into the glitteriest caves of your soul and whisper "Can I try on your bra?"

So I had a fun thing to share at bars and parties with my friends for a few months, and people asked to hear his message again and again. And since time had passed, I sadly resigned myself to thinking the heartbreaker known as eazyp424 he had found true love on the back alley of the internet.

But thankfully, I was WRONG.

Today I opened up my OKCupid for a quick self-esteem boost (and immediate, heroin-esque come down) only to find that the LOVE of my online dating site, ERIC aka EAZYP424 had sent me a message! Oh, my heart was a flutter as in a Victorian coming-of-age novel, as my foppish suitor tried yet again to convince me of his sexuality.

And friends

I was not disappointed.

whats up I'm Eric I live in boys town and get into a lot of crazy situations get hit on a lot by guys not really interested but I'm open minded so I might be bi lol I work hard and like to party on my off time lol but more relaxed partying with a few people at a local bar or my place I have a lot of tattoos and a couple piercings if you want I'm just a real person trying to meet someone real lol you can hit me up

The lack of punctuation. The brutal honesty. The fact that he'd forgotten he'd sent me a message previously and this appears to be a copy and pasted revision of the previous. The lol's. I'm baffled the Dating Website Genie only gave us a 14% match. But an admittance that perhaps, just perhaps, there was some self realization in the past two months. Maybe a quiet, resolved blow-job outside Cocktail. A quick kiss at the Jackhammer. Brunch.

I almost wrote to remind him that he's already tried once, as did several of my boyfriends in high school, to convince me of his waning heterosexuality, but decided it was a much better idea to share with you, friend.

So that's what I've done today. Nearly a college graduate, I spent 2 hours watching Maury, one hour drawing a Native American riding a camel until I realized I'd forgotten the intended joke of said illustration, and then I came here to regale you with the sad, fucking, sad state of my life. 25, magnet for closeted gay men and feelin' fine.

Til next time, internet. I love you.

I Only Know One Joke

So I've got this friend named Dave. He's a pretty quiet guy, he doesn't really go out that much. He's got a couple hobbies, nothing unusual. He reads a lot. He maintains a pretty steady routine. Everyday he does the same thing, and one day he was doing just that, eating his Muesli, reading his newspaper, and he turned to the back page and saw an ad for the circus. He thought to himself "You know, I should get out more, I need to start doing things."

So he went, and he sat in the back, because as an adult male being alone at the circus is pretty weird. But he was having a good time. The tightrope walkers were walking, the lion tamer was lion taming, the motorcycle was going around that big thing motorcycles go around in. And this clown came out, with a giant black hat. He set it down, and reached his hand in and pulled out a kangaroo. And he said "Whaaaaat's this kids?" and the kids are going apeshit and go "IT'S A KANGAROO!" And the clown pulled out a rabbit and said "Whaaaaat's this kids?" and the kids are screaming "IT'S A RABBIT!" And the clown pulled out a donkey, and said "Whaaaaaat's this kids?" and Dave goes "It's an ass!" and the clown said "YOUUUU'RE AN ASS!" and everyone started laughing at Dave and Dave was really, really embarrassed.

When he got home that night, he was sulking around and thought to himself "You know what? Fuck that. I need to get control of my life. I can never let anything like that ever happen again." So the next day he went to the library and started reading about comedians. He rented the classics: Mel Brooks, Charlie Chaplin, Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, Woody Allen . He studied them, he learned. He joined an improv class, and after many months found himself one of the most popular people there, due to his growing wit. He started doing stand up, made a lot of friends. He went out at night. He laughed. But he was still the same old Dave. And one day he was reading his newspaper, eating his Muesli, and he turned to the back page and saw the same ad for the same circus. And so he decided to go.

So he goes, of course, and sits in the back because he's embarrassed, but he's enjoying himself. The trapeze artists are trapeezing, , the elephants were walkin' around in a circle holdin' each other's tails and shit, the ringmaster was mastering. And then the same clown came out with the same black hat, and put it on the table. And the clown pulled out a kangaroo. And he said "Whaaaaat's this kids?" and the kids are going apeshit and go "IT'S A KANGAROO!" And the clown pulled out a rabbit and said "Whaaaaat's this kids?" and the kids are screaming "IT'S A RABBIT!"

And the clown pulled out a donkey, and said "Whaaaaaat's this kids?"

and Dave goes "It's an ass!"

and the clown said "YOUUUU'RE AN ASS!"



And Dave said "FUCK YOU CLOWN"

claim to fame

I asked Chris to write about me, when he went to France, and make me immortal. There's something pretty fuckin romantic about some dude writing your name on a bathroom wall, even if it means you "suck dick good". At least you do that well. At least someone knows.


He came back and told me: "Remember how I told you I'd write something about you in bathroom stalls in Europe? There are notes about you in the Frankfurt airport, in the Warsaw airport and at a rest stop along the M1 in england."

"I didn't go into many public restrooms."

I asked him what he wrote.

"Meredith Kachel has a €20,000 mouth"



Good. Great. Exactly what I wanted.

the end of the world

Benny smelled the sulfur shortly before he met Samantha.

Two minutes before Hell opened up in Central Park, he had been leafing through the “7 Records for a Dollar” bin outside Fat Terry’s Music Emporium, looking for a rare Velvet Underground .45. He had been skipping his philosophy class when the sky turned black and the rivers ran thick with blood. Moments before his heart burst inside his chest like an aerosol can in a fire, he paused on the idea of the world ending on a Thursday.

But we’ve skipped too far ahead. Now his thick brown hair stuck to his forehead, and he undid the top button on his ironic polyester shirt (as the temperature had suddenly risen 10 degrees). An uneasiness set into his brow and gut; he sensed a loss of innocence in the air. For the duration of his newly onset anxiety, the sky began to darken, & consequently his hopes of making it back to his dorm in time for Friends did too. Where do I go from here? he thought, what have I done? and his green Puma’s began to pump the ground, quickly heading where they could only logically assume was away from certain destruction.

He had made it four and half steps before Samantha appeared muddled through the misery of smoke and panicked screams. She had red hair and sweat pants on, and like Benny (and the other 6 billion people on earth), was running nowhere. He recessed his alarm as they stopped abruptly to consider each other. Samantha had been doing laundry when she felt the earth quake beneath her feet. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.


It was love at first sight.


It was the end of the world.


It had been all of thirty seconds that time had stopped for the two accidental lovers, and in that time a disembodied voice chanting in an archaic language rang through the sky, and people dropped to their knees to pray amid ash and fire and death. The raptured ones approached the sky, naked, pumping their fists. Only mildly distracted by the chaos, Benny and Samantha cautiously approached each other until they were a mere five inches apart, and he reached for her hand. Instead of fear he felt calm; instead of sulfur she smelled his cheap cologne.

“It’s too bad,” she finally said, after yet another excruciating minute of staring.

“Not really,” he replied, and she knew exactly what he meant.

Two lovers in the midst of pandemonium. They lie down, facing one another on the pavement, coming to terms with the melancholy truth, and at the same time overcome by joy; staying still, with no reason to move. “I’ve found a reason to live, to die. To lie among chaotic rubble and sleep soundly.” He thought. “Fuck, I dominate at poetry. I should write that dow-oh......"

The fire began to rain harder, pounding the pavement, jumping at those still running. The disembodied voice grew unbearably loud, the praying and wails of those around them shrieked in pain and trepidation. Even 2 miles north of the hole to Hell, the wave of heat still struck the couple and singed their eyelashes. Now, without regret, they lie within the others’ gaze and felt complete and tranquil.

These were their Revelations. Love even vanquished death; it triumphed over fear and mercy.

“Thank you,” he shouted. The only other thing he would ever say to Samantha was: “I’ve never done anything like this.” He smiled through the mayhem.

They lay, burning, and melting among screams and sautéing flesh. “You are beautiful,” he thought, staring at her now quite literally flaming red hair and smoldering face, and she smiled. They were still only mildly concerned with the fact that they only had x-allotted time left. As long as they were together. He rested his forehead on hers, and they brought their knees together.

One minute later, all that was left of the human race were charred remains of 6 billion men and women. Two of them, on the northern tip of the island of what was once known as New York, lay together, their skin fused with heat, clothes burned off, and forming a perfect, indestructible diamond.

the birthday gorilla

(written roughly sept 18th, 2002: my golden birthday)

I woke up this morning to the sound of a giant pink gorilla being inflated in my front lawn. My parents let me sleep in for the first time in twelve years of public schooling, and I can only assume they've planned this as if to say "Remember that fever you faked in 6th grade? BAHAHA! WELCOME TO HELL," though I wouldn't put it past two 50-something suburban high school teachers to think "What better way to commemorate the birth of your only living daughter than by hiring some stoned jerk wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt to put King Kong's blow-up girlfriend in the yard?"

Her great white teeth are still covered in dust from storage, but she grins at me nevertheless, unaware she should be self conscious. The grass soaks the bottoms of my socks slowly, as I stand in front of her, slack-jawed. Is this the physical manifestation of love, or embarrassment? I step on her foot, testing the thickness of her magenta skin to see if stabbing the monstrosity with my car keys is an option, but
unfortunately she's been sewn together with the old tires (the kind her closest relatives are swinging on at the zoo).

I stare into her cartoonish blue eyes, adorned by three eyelashes each, and contemplate: could this be more awkward for you? I wonder what it's like to be a rentable joke. Grabbing her hand, which is rough and pulsing with the air being pumped into her, I feel an affinity with the bikini clad primate. I hoist myself up on her knee, throw my leg around the pit of her elbow and, after only slipping twice, sit on her shoulder. We look out over the neighborhood together, and I appreciate her company.

The Monkey and I let our embarrassment cancel the other's out, and for just a moment, I feel like I'm not alone in a world full of helium birthday greetings. "What a thing to identify with," I whisper in her ear, and her bouncing head affirms my suspicion that she feels the same way. "We're both losers," I sigh, pressing my entire face into her enormous, rough head, but jerk back immediately.

A revelation.


"They're going to make me take a picture with it"



I slide down and laid in the grass bemoaning my own existence before realizing I was being a cliche, and sullenly marched inside for an english muffin.

pulsars

Bob thought about pulsars on his back, staring at the night sky in the Cosco parking lot from the back of his pick-up truck. 279 million light years away, a pulsar wondered about Bobs in the deafening silence of space. Questions, it seemed, were what made up the space between Bob and his pulsar. If questions are space and space is questions, "What", thought both of them, "are the answers?"



Black holes.

Conincidentally, at the same moment Bob and the pulsar debated the others' existance, respective anti-matter ripped through them. All that was protested from Bob and the pulsar was a distant "oh", stretching from here to nowhere.

yearbooks

04/01/2010

my senior year of high school I had a great group of friends, a lot of activities, the perfect boyfriend, a shitty car. I had Jackson Meeker, a tall doughy buddhist from Athens, Georgia who has gone on to become a social worker, married, living in the suburbs with his high school sweetheart. We don’t keep in touch as often as I think we thought we would. He wrote possibly my favorite thing I’ve ever had written to or for me. And there’s a lot of stuff, friends.

He wrote:

One day I will open these pages in this book with my children, this book with a tye-dyed front because we let the ugly girls run yearbook this year, and I will point to your picture and say “I know Meredith Kachel. I knew her when she was a scrappy lass.”

And my children will say “THIS IS STUPID WE HATE YOU DAD!” and I will weep and insist on family counseling. But none of that matters, because I knew Meredith Kachel. And my kids are fags.

Jackson.

I like remembering our relationship like that. Young and funny and strong.

Lately (I say lately as if I haven’t been obsessing about this since I was 8 years old) I’ve been thinking about epitaphs, eulogies, obituaries, wedding speeches. The summarizing of a relationship with someone while maintaining a straight face, an effective air of poignancy and sentimentality. The moments I look forward to in life will happen when I’m gone. And let’s face it, I’ll probably never get married.

I just wish I could get it all in writing.

Those friends drifted, the activities took a backseat to work, booze, and school, the boyfriend killed himself, and the car was smashed to pieces in Madison. but I’ve still got pen to ink that proves that existed, if only briefly.