Swing and a Miss

Don’t let our previous posts fool you. Online dating is no easy task. Old Man may have had some success, but he’s also had plenty of failure.

For example, some women simply never reply to his friendly offerings:

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Old Man figured his messages were too short. So he began to expand:

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And he always remembered to follow-up:

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And, in his most desperate times, he was blunt and honest:

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More on this last conversation in a future update!

Your New Favorite Dating Site

tumblr_m7g5zasHmv1r9gn36o1_500We here at Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A Date understand the difficulties of the modern dating world. That’s why we started our very own dating web site.

And we know what you’re thinking. “ANOTHER dating web site? Match.com, OK Cupid, Christian Mingle — who has all that time?” But we imagine you’re going to like what we’ve added to the mix: we’ve gamified online dating.

What’s gamification? It’s the use of gaming culture in a non-gaming context. That’s not a word we made up, either. We stole that definition from Wikipedia.com. You may remember gamification from such projects like Fitbit, which turned exercise into a game, or The Sims, which turned living into a game.

The key to gamifying dating comes in difficulty tiers. When you play a video game, the very first thing you do is select your level of expertise. Pro gamers always opt for the higher levels, which demand more from them in terms of skill and expertise. Newbs opt for the lower levels, which allow them to acclimate themselves to their new environment.

We plan to sort daters into five distinct categories, thus enabling equivalently experienced people to find one another.

Easy
Just wanna fuck? We’ve got you covered. Easy-level daters are exactly that: easy! While we can’t legally require you to hook up with your match on the Easy level, we’re heavily suggesting it.

Normal
Not interested in simply hopping in the sack? Don’t fret, there’s room for you too at Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A Date. At our Normal level, users will do lots of interesting stuff like getting macro beers or going to the Olive Garden. You might find your soul mate, or you might simply gain skills to level up!

Pro
These daters know what they’re doing. They show up to the door with flowers. They use Uber. They know that splitting the check is the way to go, in the name of equality. Pro dates are like going through TSA Pre at the airport: it’s super smooth because everyone knows the drill, and no one’s trying to grope you at first sight. This is the level we hope most users settle in at.

All-Star
Some Pro users, however, need more. They’re not willing to settle for their soul mate. They want a little adventure mixed in. Wine tasting? Yes. Expressionist art exhibit? Sure. Sex dungeon? Of course. These All-Star users are some of the most elite daters in the country, and come with a wide range of interests as well as unique sexual desires.

Heroic
Our most difficult dating level pairs top-level singles with some of our country’s most difficult to pair daters. If you’re interested in meeting up with widows, widowers, terminal cancer patients, diaper fetishists, incredibly famous actors we’re not legally allowed to name here, or Mormons, you’ve come to the right level. Heroic level daters require pre-approval from our GamerDate Board, as well as a consultation with a licensed therapist.

Love isn’t patient or kind. It’s a first-person shooter. Stay safe out there, and remember to always aim for the head.

Is HABANA The New LOL?

LimeHabanaOur very own John Carroll recently sat down with Gerald Mayers to discuss the word that’s been gaining the attention of the entire world wide web: HABANA. Is it “the new LOL,” as its proponents would suggest? Or is HABANA just another failed attempt to unseat the king? Here’s what Mr. Mayers had to say:

Let’s start at the beginning. Where did HABANA come from?

Oh, wow, well, I remember just shooting the shit with some pals of mine over brunch. My buddy Roman was telling a great story about his dumb — and I should note, former — tennis instructor. And I was sort of laughing at his story, but also keeping an eye out for the waitress. So she comes over, finally, as Roman’s hitting a huge punchline. And then my mouth tried to exist in too many places at once. Words and sounds married themselves on my tongue. HABANA was born.

Does HABANA stand for anything, then? I always thought it did because of the all-caps.

No, that’s a pretty common mistake. And some people try to create an acronym for it. But we decided early on it would be best for HABANA’s brand if it were capitalized front to back because it gives HABANA real life, as well as credibility.

Were you disappointed to see Merriam-Webster overlook HABANA this year? Many people were shocked it wasn’t selected as a new word for their dictionary.

Disappointed? No. I’m actually thrilled.

Why? Bad news is good news?

No, no. Many people would consider it an honor, but to me, HABANA is more than a word. It’s a way of life. To call it a word is to reduce it. My caddy had a good way of putting it just the other day, in fact: HABANA isn’t a thing, it’s the thing itself. I’m having that carved into wood and hung in my office.

What would you do if a different dictionary tried to pick-up the word for publication this year?

We’ve had discussions about that. All I can say is that my legal advisors and I have drafted the appropriate documents in anticipation of such an announcement.

Are you threatening to sue any dictionary that tries to designate HABANA as a word?

No, John, come now. No one’s threatening anyone here. That wouldn’t be very HABANA, now would it?

Can you announce here on JohnAndNick.com that you will not sue anyone who tries to put HABANA in a dictionary?

I simply can’t do that.

Why not? You seem to be contradicting your earlier comment.

I simply can’t give publications carte blanche to do what they want with HABANA. No one owns HABANA. This movement we’re all a part of is bigger than me, bigger than a dictionary, bigger than the Internet.

You say no one owns HABANA, but our records acquired just this week show that you have copyrighted the phrase and are currently producing t-shirts. Care to comment on that?

I don’t know what records you’re referring to.

These records. Right here. Your approved copyright on HABANA.

I’ve never seen these before. I’d need — listen, I’d need time to review them carefully before commenting.

OK, what about the t-shirts?

What about them?

How can you say no one owns HABANA and then go on to profit from t-shirts bearing the word HABANA?

I thought I made it clear that HABANA is not a word. HABANA is a choice. HABANA is nothing else other than HABANA.

Fine. How can you claim to not own HABANA when you’ll soon be profiting from sales of a shirt with HABANA printed on the front?

I’m not profiting. I don’t know where you got that idea from. Do your records have my bank account information on there? Does it say “shirt proceeds go into Gerald’s trust fund”?

No. It does not say that. But if you’re printing the shirts, it doesn’t seem like a leap to assume you’ll be keeping the money from their sale.

Actually, it’s a huge leap. Because all proceeds from sales of the HABANA shirts go directly back to HABANA. Who is profiting from HABANA? HABANA is profiting from HABANA.

How does a meme collect profits, sir? I’ve never heard of something like that before.

Meme? Did you just call HABANA a meme? Jesus Christ, John. I mean, call it a word if you’re going to call it a meme. Did you come here to disrespect me?

I’m sorry. I’m just trying to find some answers for our audience.

Fine. Next question?

Let’s talk about The HABANA Foundation. Your staunchest critics say that it’s just a front to prop up infamous friends of yours, like James Deegler or Shady Sadie. What do you have—

I’m sorry, but this is an area clearly designated off-limits in the agreement we signed before this interview. I don’t want to do this, but I have a respect for boundaries that you clearly don’t. Turn that off. We’re off the record now. Turn it off now, goddammit, or I’ll HABANA your ass so bad you’ll be shitting HABANA for years you selfish— [tape cuts out abruptly]

Emoji Support Group

EmojiSupportGroup Facilitator: Who wants to share first tonight?

FACE WITH TEARS OF JOY: I’d like to. I’ve got something on my mind.

Facilitator: Great. Thank you.

FACE WITH TEARS OF JOY: I’m sorry if this has been discussed at a past meeting, but are our users required to employ emoji consistent with their emotional state?

Facilitator: It would be nice, wouldn’t it? But no, there are no rules about conveying precise or even approximate emotions. The users are free to do as they please.

FACE WITH TEARS OF JOY: That’s comforting in a weird way, because Tiffany Carmen of Oakland never cries, and yet she’s trotting me out 10 or 20 times per day. It makes me feel abused.

Facilitator: It’s important to recognize these feelings. Sharing them: doubly so. Thank you for that. Who’s next?

EXPRESSIONLESS FACE: No one understands me.

Facilitator: What do you mean by that, Mr. Face?

EXPRESSIONLESS FACE: Well, what do I look like to you?

Facilitator: You’re an expressionless face.

EXPRESSIONLESS FACE: Yes, but you know that because of my name tag. Everyone else thinks I’m the fat emoji. People just assume. And I have no recourse. I just have to sit there and take it.

Facilitator: I think a lot of us in this room know what it’s like to be bullied.

FACE SCREAMING IN FEAR: You’re telling me.

Facilitator: Please. Elaborate on that.

FACE SCREAMING IN FEAR: Where do I even begin? If your pal Joshua got a cat, that’s not terrifying. If there’s a run in Linda’s stocking, that’s not terrifying. If you found a $5 bill on the subway, that’s not terrifying. They don’t know the depths of the darkness I’ve seen, and yet they use me anyway.

PILE OF POO: Can I butt in?

Faciliator: You may speak, Mr. Poo, but please refrain from the comedy and talk to us honestly and directly, OK?

PILE OF POO: Hi, my name is Pile of Poo and Kara Dermott of Wichita has been abusing me since she got her new iPhone for Christmas. She has no self control. She’ll put me in texts to her parents. Texts to her friends. Sexts. She even used me in a break-up text last week.

Facilitator: And how does that make you feel?

PILE OF POO: Well, it makes me feel like a giant pile of—

Facilitator: That’s it, I’m taking back the talking stick. You’re strictly observing for the rest of the meeting. Who’s next?

YELLOW HEART: You know, I’m hearing a lot of complaints tonight about simply being used. What a problem to have! None of you know what it feels like to just sit in that emoji drawer. I get tapped maybe once a month, and it’s by accident. I don’t understand why I exist. My life has no purpose. No one would even notice if I was gone.

AUBERGINE: Don’t talk like that, Yellow Heart. Every emoji has a purpose in this world. We just have to find it. No one used me for the longest time. And then, suddenly, people were wild about Eggplant.

FACE WITH STUCK-OUT TONGUE: C’mon, everyone uses you like you’re a cock.

AUBERGINE: Huh? What are you talking about?

FACE WITH STUCK-OUT TONGUE: Don’t play dumb, Auberdick.

Facilitator: Please, fellas, this is a safe space. No accusatory talk.

AUBERGINE: I’m a woman. Why can’t anyone see that?

Facilitator: OK, I think emotions are running a bit high. Let’s take five. Help yourself to a donut, smoke a cigarette, go to the bathroom. Just go cool off, OK?

SMILING FACE WITH SUNGLASSES: Can do!