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Living In KC During the Super Bowl
Posted:Feb 2, 2020 5:24 pm
Last Updated:Feb 5, 2020 4:27 pm

As anyone 's read previous entries knows, I'm less than fond of living in Kansas City. As a result, I'm militantly apathetic about their little sports teams. However, I discovered positive aspect of the Chiefs making it the big game.

Now that I've decided resume shooting competitively, it's been a nice way fill the time and be more social. I belong an amazing club, with some great people. Obviously, a 60 degree Sunday in KC would typically mean a packed shooting range. Except today. I waited later in the afternoon head over and efforts were rewarded. I practically had the place myself.

I broke in barrels on rifles and dialed in scopes.

It was a good day and I'm thankful for it.
Tale of the Self-Centered
Posted:Dec 29, 2019 12:43 pm
Last Updated:Mar 12, 2020 10:42 am

Under the heading of shit I've only encountered in Kansas...

Long story short, I had made contact with a woman who, after a year of being celibate, wanted to get laid on NYE. We agreed to meet beforehand, in order we weren't stuck with someone we didn't like the day of.

So she arrived Christmas evening and quality sex was had. She appeared to be dateworthy, so she stayed and additional quality sex was had. Her selfish tendencies came to light during that sex, however. Before we met, I made a point of sharing how a previous partner's selfishness in the bedroom doomed our relationship to a platonic one. The condensed version is I rarely inside a woman because I typically don't stop until I've done my best to blow her mind. So, my energy for that one last push just isn't there. All I ask is my partner take one for the team, occasionally, and finish me orally. I reiterated my wish each of the five times we had sex and I'd run out of steam, but she couldn't be bothered. In all, I think I received a total of 2 minutes of oral.

One of the two nights I was getting ready for bed, when she asked if the phone charger next to the bed was mine. As if it could belong to someone else? I responded that it was. Except she decided it was hers, because when I came into the bedroom, her phone was plugged into it, .

While she was here, most of the conversation was her relating drama about her family, the divorce process, and a few other topics. That got a bit old, as one could imagine.

The thing that wouldn't leave finally departed late Friday morning because she needed to attend a funeral. She said she'd me as soon as she knew whether she could come over or if things had gone long. When I didn't receive a 6: p.m., I decided she was on her own for dinner. When one hadn't arrived at 7: p.m., I'd pretty much decided that, sans another death or severe bodily trauma, she was getting the heave ho. At 7:50 p.m., a finally arrived, saying she was tired and would me in the morning. Yeah, thanks for letting me know early enough so that I could adjust my plans... In my potentially fantasy world, when you say you're going to someone with plans, you someone with plans, whether they're your friend or some dipshit you work with.

At :50 Saturday morning, I was awoken knocking on my door. It was followed door bell ringing. That pattern alternated without pause. Knock knock knock knock, ring ring ring... It was constant. At that point, I didn't know who was at my door, and willing them to shut the fuck up wasn't working. So, as one does when there's a lunatic at their front door, I grabbed something in a large caliber and went downstairs to investigate. You already know it was her. Well, I went off on her in the semi-coherent manner one does when one is awoken from a deep sleep. However, the message that she needed to stay the fuck away from me was crystal clear.

Fortunately, all indications are she did listen to that bit of direction.

In summary, holy fuck, I've never encountered anyone so self-centered and ultimately bereft of courtesy toward others. Such a shame, because the sex was about the best I've had in the flatlands.
Check Out My Juicy Sausage Baby
Posted:Nov 27, 2019 8:13 am
Last Updated:Nov 27, 2019 10:38 am
Sorry, not kind. I just threw a small batch of sausage into the smoker and hope to redeem myself for the previous one; also my first ever sausage. The first batch looked delicious, but was poorly executed and had the texture of sawdust in a casing.

But it looked good.
When The Balance Of Power Turns
Posted:Nov 11, 2019 8:08 pm
Last Updated:Nov 12, 2019 7:04 pm

No, this isn't about D/s or even about sex. Consider it more of a life lesson on how you treat the candidates you interview for a job.

To keep it brief, back in September, I interviewed for a job North Carolina. It was a good fit, for a of reasons I won't go into and I was excited about moving back to the East Coast. Shocker, I know. I even had an inside track in the form of a friend whose agency does all the marketing communications for this company. He fed all the info he got on the other candidates and how their interviews went, from another friend who worked for the company. Total lock, right?

Well, the hiring manager didn't think so. This job was sales management and he thought I was 'too much of a marketing guy.' Except despite my follow up just outside the time he committed to have a decision to me, the guy was dark. I actually found out I didn't get the position from my friend.

Fast forward two months, to last week, and sitting in a global marketing meeting, where one of my colleagues speaks about developing an electric ass scratcher (make believe product the company I interviewed with manufactures). I see an excellent opportunity to partner with an expert on electric ass scratchers, instead of trying to develop our own, because our value proposition is tech anti itch solutions, of which we have significant market share. I intended to connect my team with the company in NC, but then I thought, fuck them; they didn't have the decency to provide with some form of feedback. The vindictive part of me wanted to reach to rub it in the ass scratcher's , that being an asshole lost them a fuck ton of revenue and market visibility. But too professional, burning bridges and all.

Things changed the next evening, because I finally did receive a rejection email from ass scratcher. Thank you for the opening!

I responded and concluded with this:

Furthermore, during our global marketing meeting, last week, one of the other market managers mentioned development on a ass scratcher unit and the potential need for a higher capacity ass scratching system. I informed him that there were companies whose sole business was ass scratching management and that he should consider partnering with one, rather than reinventing the wheel internally, particularly because the market position our company enjoys in this application would drive significant revenue for both parties.

Best Regards,

So, back to the moral which is essentially the golden rule, because being an asshole can prevent you from a partnership worth millions in revenue.
1 comment
Most Hysterical Thing Ever
Posted:Jul 5, 2019 5:48 pm
Last Updated:Jul 6, 2019 6:28 am
A friend of mine sent a link to my ex-wife's current little side venture. She's become a wedding officiant. Initially, I rolled my eyes, because since we were married, she has discovered she enjoys being the center of attention. Charities where she can be seen, but not actually do anything (according to her ) and so on.

If you recall from my previous posts, I was husband three and she's since married four. So, when I read the first sentence of her little 'about ', I literally spit my drink, laughing.

Weddings bring her so much joy, that she's had four of them!
Look Out!!! He's Got a Gun!!!
Posted:Apr 13, 2019 7:33 pm
Last Updated:Apr 13, 2019 9:04 pm

My first positive post since leaving Richmond. Don't get used to it...

With all of my normal social outlets unavailable in KC (homeless training, Porsche club), my social life has been barren. No surprise this place was killing me. So, I began to consider other means of getting the fuck out of the house. One of the things Kansas has a fuck ton of is shooters. And until 2008, I'd been a pretty hardcore competitive shooter, myself. 5 years of PPC and another of IPSC my belt. But it stopped being fun and more like a semi obsession or job. Shooting four matches a month and never going to the range without a set of skills I wanted to practice. Fun? Not so much. So I walked away in 2008 and sold all my custom built guns and other equipment (I won't tell you how much I discovered I'd sunk into the sport). Hadn't missed it in the least, since quitting.

But I was really wit's end on how to keep from mentally and emotionally imploding, so earlier this year, I bought a used comp gun and got ready to compete in the hell hole I live in. And today was my first match. After a decade away, I wasn't expecting much. In fact, my only goal was to have fun.

Before I get into whether my expectations were met, a bit of explanation of the sport I compete in, IPSC or USPSA. Each match has 5-9 stages and each stage is either a problem to be solved or a set of skills to be bench marked. The former can be anywhere from 3 to targets that need to be shot as quickly and accurately as possible. There are walls, barriers, and other obstacles that require you not just hose targets from one spot. Some stages require you to reload / change magazines at a certain point or fire your gun one handed...left handed. Your score is essentially how many points you scored, by hitting the target, divided by the time it took you. Points second. Equipment is broken into classes, so someone shooting a of the box Glock isn't trying to keep up with a full , purpose built pistol. Regardless of your hardware, you try to fly through a stage.

For example, one of the stages today required you to shoot five targets, lined up in a row (2 shots each), reload, then shoot another five from a different position. All were close, so it was a hose fest. I shot this stage in 6.59 seconds, with only two shots not in the highest scoring area of the target. It was one of the fastest runs on that stage for the day. But super rusty; when I quit the sport in 2008, I would have run it clean in 5. seconds, give or take a tenth.

My performance wasn't my primary focus; today was all about the experience and it didn't disappoint. One of the things I enjoyed most about competition shooting is the people. Every time I've gone somewhere new to shoot a club match, the environment was always friendly and inviting. Sportsmanship is supreme. When someone's gun breaks or ammo doesn't work, there are multiple offers to 'use mine'. You and your fiercest rivals will stand together and figure out the best way to shoot a stage.

As far as how I did overall in the match, I had a couple solid stages, like the one above, where I felt like a rock star. One or two where I was a rock star until I put a round in a no shoot target. There were a few where my gun jammed like reggae festival..bang, FUCK!, bang, FUCK!... And one or two I'd rather not talk about. But good enough for a mid-pack finish for the match. Btw, I shot more rounds today than I had in the previous ten years TOTAL, so there was still rust flying off of me at the end of the day.

I'll admit to deriving just a bit of joy from the last conversation I had, after packing up. Standing with three other shooters on my squad, I said 'not bad for my first match back'. One asked how long I'd been gone. Three mouths literally dropped open when I told them.

Today was a pretty great day; definitely the most fun I've had since moving here. Good people and gun fire. It may sound odd, but definitely food for my starving soul.
Bill, I Believe This is Killing Me
Posted:Apr 13, 2019 2:22 pm
Last Updated:Apr 13, 2019 2:23 pm

The sex hadn't been all that good and there wasn't anything more between us, so I saw her to the door and bid her goodbye. embarrassed to say I couldn't be bothered to be a gentleman and least see her to her car. The line from Piano Man popped into my head; this place is slowly killing .

I'll spare you the complete melodrama, but in addition to every other aspect of life in Kansas sucking my soul, work finally a boiling point. Again long story short, I've got a $20m chunk of my portfolio in jeopardy because we can't build quality product and the most interest I received from the E suite was one of our VP's becoming enamored by the word 'existential', which I used to describe how dire the situation is. Gutless wonders afraid to stick their necks .

This place's ability to suck the soul of was complete and I genuinely felt as though I'd rock bottom. I found myself intentionally avoiding interaction with others, outside of work. Empathy took way too much effort.

But a recent revelation elevated my mood quite dramatically. When I was hired by my current employer, it was contingent upon a commitment that were I to break it, required me to repay the relo I received. I recalled it being 3 or 5 years, but never bothered to verify; I was trapped for the duration. However, while on the phone with my parents last week, I pulled up the document and it turns the period was 1 year. 19 months now. While there was no material change to speak of, I felt an amazing sense of freedom. When and where I go next is up to , so I can blow this shithole whenever I want. And the angels sang.

I've not begun the job search yet, but likely will shortly. That process always involves a ton of stress, so I intend to bask in my new found freedom for a bit.
1 comment
Carrot Cake and Defeat
Posted:Mar 17, 2019 4:44 pm
Last Updated:Mar 18, 2019 7:24 pm
I'm pretty damned good at baking. My carrot cake is the best you'll ever have, with just a bit of extra cinnamon and white chocolate cream cheese frosting. If you're a regular reader, you've seen a few pictures of my output. Unfortunately, I've also got a massive sweet tooth. This combination can be Armageddon to my waistline, which I sweat my ass off in the gym to keep in a reasonable state. If I have a carrot cake in the house, I'll eat a carrot cake (which is a perfect breakfast food).

I thought I had it all figured out. The perfect balance of my love for awesome baked goods and containing my ravenous desire for just one more piece. I'd bake something, such as the aforementioned carrot cake, cookies, or cheesecake. A hunk would be for immediate consumption, another hunk would be vacuum sealed and frozen, then about half would be cut into pieces and taken to work. Unfortunately, word of my baking prowess has spread through the office, so more and more of my colleagues are asking to be on the 'mailing list'. So many, in fact, that just satisfying the demand would require a whole cake. Being the kind soul I am (and I enjoy the accolades of those who get my goodies), I decided the office would get its whole cake.

So, this morning, I baked three layers of carrot cake goodness, along with a double batch of frosting. One layer to go to the office and the other two (one cake) to remain with me. Then it hit me...FUCK! I'm back to having a whole damned cake for myself.

I cut a piece for a light snack and while I'm sure it's delicious as usual, all I can taste are bitterness and defeat. Time to go buy some fat pants.

Email if you want cake...
On First Date Sex
Posted:Feb 24, 2019 3:02 pm
Last Updated:Feb 25, 2019 7:17 am

This one's got some age on it, but I just realized I hadn't posted it.

Recently, I had a conversation with a woman who seemed confused and disheartened over her recent lack of success in dating. She loved sex and occasionally slept with someone on their first date, yet the guy frequently disappeared as rapidly as his post coital erection. She was distressed over feeling used and not knowing what guys want.

I've covered one of the reasons why men disappear after sleeping with a woman here, but wanted to address another consideration with respect to her question (which she shares with many other women); expectations.

I'm specifically referring to expectations associated with a first date. The first date is a no pressure, no commitment way of getting to know someone. To determine what level of chemistry exists between the two parties, and so on. Either party should be able to walk away, after a first date, without any seriously hard feelings.

First date activities can be whatever the two parties decide. Drinks only, lunch, drinks and dinner, dinner and a movie, dinner and dancing, drinks and painting class, smoking pot and cow tipping, drinks and sex, dinner and sex, just sex, and so on. Wait, did he just say sex as a first date activity? Yes, some people desire sex enough to make it a first date activity. And why not? We're (mostly) all grownups here. Who's to say sex on a first date isn't right? Clearly the woman I referenced earlier considers it to be acceptable. Besides, at some point, you'll have to determine whether you're sexually compatible with the other party; why not do it up front? Speaking for my gender, none of us will turn down first date sex; it's just not done. Therefore, sex shall be considered as reasonable as a first date activity as dinner or anything else, including cow tipping.

Regardless of the activity, first dates often don't work out for one reason or another. One or both parties decide they don't want to see the other again. This is perfectly reasonable, regardless of what the first date activity is. My female readers are throwing rotten fruit at their screens (you'll have quite the mess to clean up later) because they 'know very well' sex has greater implications than say a kiss goodnight. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but on a first date, not so much. The key words here are 'FIRST DATE'. Those are zero pressure meetings intended to decide whether mutual interest exists to warrant a second date. Therefore, I don't care whether a date consists of cow tipping or dirty, raw sex, nothing can be inferred as to whether there will be a second date. And seriously, how can anyone claim to have a deep emotional bond after a first date? Not much more to be said there.

As an example, awhile back, I contacted a woman via a dating site and we seemed to get along well. The conversation migrated to sex and we wound up having a bit of phone fun. I was traveling at the time, but she flat out said she wanted to have sex with me upon my return. If I must... She came to my house and we did just that. The sex was okay but as we got to know each other better, it was clear to both of us we weren't compatible, with respect to an LTR. She left, we had the one further obligatory email exchange, then we both moved on. No one was upset or had their feelings hurt, because it was a first date.

With that in mind, let's delve into motivations, specifically why women sleep with men on the first date. We know how the men see the topic. Ladies, it's great you have a healthy sex drive; seriously, I applaud it. If you have a need such that you'll satisfy it on a first date, such as the woman in my example, I have absolutely zero issue with it. Hell, as a guy, I'll be the first to sign up.

However, if a woman sleeps with a man on the first date to create an emotional bond? Not a valid reason. Creating a situation where the guy feels obligated to see her again? No fucking way. That other thing I haven't thought of? Out as well. I'd go into further detail, but do I really need to write about being emotionally healthy?

But he tricked me!

One of the most common complaints from women who've had a guy disappear, particularly after sleeping with her on the first date, is 'he said felt something so strong for me and that he wanted us to be together for a long time'. Or something of the sort. Fucker lied, just to get you in the sack, didn't he? While it's fun to male bash, things aren't always what they seem as I alluded to in my womanizer post, linked above.

Additionally, circumstances may materially change in the period immediately following the sexual interlude. I had just such an experience, not a week ago after I'd started this entry (perfect timing). Things began in much the same way as in my previous example except that immediately following the sex, I still intended to see this woman again. Then things changed. She was constantly blowing up my phone with texts, even after I'd told her I was going to sleep, in one instance. There were sentiments such as 'I've never felt this way before' and 'I can't wait to see you again', which in my opinion, isn't what a 'normal' person would be saying after a first date. In short, she was making me nuts after only one date. So, I politely exited. I have no doubt she was upset and felt used. Indeed, I received the 'I thought you were different from other guys' message. If she meant that other guys couldn't deal with her critical mass clinging, I guess she's right.

I was discussing this topic with a woman and she said 'women's hearts and pussies wired together'. I get that; women develop feelings much more easily from sex than men do. My response to her was that we're all big boys and girls. It's incumbent upon us to understand how we'll respond to certain situations. And let's face it, most of us have had sex on the first date, so it's not an unknown.

Moving on, let's touch on what men want. I'll be the first to say I have no fucking clue what men want. It may sound like a cheesy pickup line, but I've been told I'm rather unique in the dating world. I'd like to think we all want a healthy, loving relationship with a woman who brings us joy. Unfortunately, I think more men than you realize suffer from insecurity and other fears that prevent them from being successful in the endeavor. This assertion comes from my own experience in the aftermath of my marriage.

Some readers are undoubtedly saying 'you're just trying to justify a one night stand', to which I respond that a one night stand is a different animal. In the case of a ONS, one or both parties know, before the first article of clothing is shed, that this will be a well, one nighter. In the case of first date sex, both parties intend to see the other for additional dates. While it's true that both carry the risk of one party being hurt in the process, first date sex and ONS's are two separate encounters, by virtue of intent alone.

The bottom line is this: If you sleep with someone on your first date, whether you're a man or woman, it's still a first date and subject to first date norms. Any emotional attachment you may have developed on ONE DATE is your own albatross.
The Midwest....Now With Even More Repressed Sexuality
Posted:Feb 23, 2019 6:38 pm
Last Updated:Feb 24, 2019 1:36 pm

My last blog was quite the rant on how Kansas seemed to be the land of the vanilla. Since then, I've gathered additional data points and my position has changed. Kansas doesn't seem to be the land of the vanilla. It IS the land of the vanilla.

We'll begin with a woman I met on another site. After some chatting, we slowly dipped our toes into the sex pool. Long story short, she had the tendencies of a dirty girl, but had a hangup about the word. "I prefer naughty." Yep, because naughty isn't quite as deviant and allows you to go to church the next morning after having your ass spanked, while a guy hammers you bent over a bed (an activity she was explicit about enjoying). I'd like a side of hypocrisy with my sexual repression, please. In any case, I'd sent her the link to my 'dating in your 40's' entry on my not here blog. She explored further and found my account of the lost weekend. "That was hot!!!" I asked if she'd like to explore that sort of dynamic. "Oh no, I hate the names you called her. I have far too much self-respect for that."

I swear the next woman that looks down her nose at my previous partners is going to hear "yes, you're completely different. The partners who've enthusiastically professed being my possession include a patent attorney and Richmond socialite, a university professor, the VP of HR for a $300 billion company, a senior policy adviser to the VA House, and a psychologist. You're nothing like those women. Enjoy being sexually repressed."

The second example is a woman who contacted me here. She read pieces of my blog and said she didn't like vanilla sex either. She then apparently copy pasted a description of what she did want, which was exactly the opposite of not vanilla!

.not into pain...erotic fun...foreplay , kissing, and I love sucking a cock balls deep....

Sounds like a nice start, but that's pretty vanilla. What made the virtual encounter even stranger was that she was dominant and wanted a submissive guy. Ummm, if you read my blog, it's pretty darned clear I'm anything but submissive. When she finally realized that, we parted ways.

Back home, in civilization, I could spot a dirty girl by looking at her eyes; they all shared a look of something interesting going on beneath the surface. No surprise, that look doesn't exist here. I bet the BDSM clubs are a bunch of people being respectful and kind, too. Yeah, that's the end.
Land Of Vanilla?
Posted:Jan 20, 2019 7:12 pm
Last Updated:Jan 21, 2019 4:47 pm

Some additional drivel on my ongoing (lack of) dating experience, otherwise known as my path to being a loser who can't get a date.

As an update to the previous entry, it turns out my dating foray may not last much longer, anyway. I've pretty much exhausted Match's members who meet my criteria (i.e. at home, age, education, etc.), beyond those who are way the hell out of my league and vice versa. Seriously, I just checked and there are only a handful (I hide those to whom I send emails and don't respond).

Despite the lack of interest, here in Kansas, I did manage to go on a date, last weekend. She was interesting to talk to, and we both had a good time. We shared an interest in human behavior, so that wound up filling a large part of the conversation. I'd written a full entry about our trajectory, but it failed the 'is it sufficiently interesting that I'd read it' test. So, here's the whole thing in a Campbell's condensed version. I said, "We all have our traumas. I went on a dating tear after my marriage ended, jumping from woman to woman, due to the fear of intimacy caused by my wife's borderline personality disorder. I didn't recognize the signs until I encountered this beautiful woman who was so detached in bed, I stopped the encounter. Oh, and I chatted with a black woman who wanted me to wear Klan robes." What she heard was, "I've had a steady stream of nympho supermodels flow through my bedroom and they were all freaks."

Insecurity ensued ('I'm concerned I won't live up to your past experiences&#39), culminating in a conversation in which she told me she wanted to see me again, then actually slut shamed me, and finished by calling me a misogynist (she never read the 'I don't date men' entry), in so many words. Just when you don't think you have any firsts left to experience, someone comes along and proves otherwise.

Needless to say, she was escorted to the metaphoric door and ejected. I've had other women express concern about my history, when I've shared it, but this one had some insecurities that smelled a lot like I'd smelled before, in women with abandonment issues. From what she shared about her previous relationships, I'd be surprised if they weren't present.

Shit, still longer than I'd hoped, but we'll soldier on to the main point I wanted to make. When I was attempting to allele this woman's fears, I was also trying to feel her out for sexual compatibility. I don't do Tab A into Slot B vanilla sex; there's a level of intensity that must be present for me in the bedroom. So long as my partner is open minded to new experiences, I'm good with her being inexperienced. Without those traits, things never go well. But despite my best efforts, she never shared a damned thing on the topic of sex. Before anyone comments that she may have just chosen to be classy, or some shit, let me point out that a. women much classier than she were much more open and b. that was the only thing she chose to be classy about. Anyway, that led to my revisiting interactions I'd had with other women, here in Hell and to my suspicion that I'm living in a sexual wasteland.

To establish some context, back home, there were very few women with whom the conversation hadn't at least tangentially touched on sex long before the second date. Not the 'here's what I'm gonna do to you' sort of chat; just feeling each other out on the capability to satisfy one another. Here, not so much. More importantly, there was only one woman in RVA I dated who wasn't either dirty or a blank slate for dirtiness. She had some serious hangups about sex, which were rooted elsewhere in a place I never had the interest in going.

Again, from what I've encountered here so far, not so much. If we throw out Klan Girl as a flyer, and look at the rest of the population (i.e. who I've interacted with), there were a number of women who made it clear sex was potentially on offer for the first date and those who acted upon such an offer. The first woman I slept with (out of a whopping two) was willing to explore. The second, who I dated for a few weeks was only into Tab A / Slot B. Granted, it was fairly good Tab A / Slot B, but even after establishing some trust with her, she summarily dismissed anything further. I had some dirty talk with the out of work trophy wife, but her idea of an amazing fantasy was a skirt, without panties, and play in risky places. Hell, with my previous partners, we called that 'Thursday'. But I was rebuked over my aberrant fantasies I tried to force on her (known to previous partners as 'a quiet weekend'. Then, there was the one who wanted to fuck, but asked if I had to degrade a woman to get off (previous entry).

Admittedly, my sample size here isn't nearly as large as that back home, but the percentages are quite alarming, just the same. Garnering interest from women is difficult enough, at the moment, but what happens when I finally do meet someone I enjoy spending time with, only to find she considers anything beyond vanilla off the table? Looks like I may be celibate for the remainder of my stay in Hell, because I just can't deal with boring sex.

As God is my witness, you'll take my restraints away when you pry them from my cold, dead hands, you vanilla fucks!
Back to the Dating Slog
Posted:Jan 20, 2019 12:37 pm
Last Updated:Jan 20, 2019 6:30 pm

With the bruises and scars from surgery healed, and my self-confidence appropriately renewed, I decided all that positive self image needed to be blown back to hell. No better way to wonder what the fuck's wrong with you than internet dating, so a little over two weeks ago, back online I went. So far, my expectations have been exceeded.

If I'm honest, I thought looking younger than I did five years ago would make me the proverbial belle of the ball, but the level of interest I've been receiving has been amazingly dismal. When I lived in Richmond, the response rate to my first contact emails was probably 20% and I received one to two first contacts per day initiated by women. Not bad for a guy who isn't six foot four, with six pack abs and a thriving law practice. Contrast that to the last two weeks, where the rate is closer to five percent and I've received three first contacts from women. What the hell memo did I miss?

Since I've not suddenly become boring or less interesting, for lack of a better descriptor, it's something else that's contributing to my suddenly becoming a loser. Actually, I think there are a few factors. First, women have stopped reading profiles, and those who do no longer bother with a computer. So, a profile with any depth (length) will be lost on their phones. (Guys never read profiles, so no change there.) And while mine isn't an epic, it's a solid read. There's also the whole Midwest culture, which seems to value pablum over any sort of edginess. There were two components of my profile that garnered significant attention at home, but have been highlighted by women here as potentially off putting to their fellow flat land women. One had to do with knowing when my partner wanted me to be less than a gentleman, the other was a riff on Johnny Cash, where I said shooting a man in Reno just to watch him die would have been more fulfilling with the right partner. As a marketing professional, I recognize I should position myself to my audience, but this is personal and I refuse to dumb down who I am for Kansas. I'd rather be single and true to myself than date someone provincial enough to be offended by what I wrote.

So, fuck you again, Kansas.
More Kansas Goodness - Concealed Carry Permits
Posted:Jan 5, 2019 12:11 pm
Last Updated:Jan 6, 2019 8:28 pm

Returning to our continuing series on 'The Many Wonderful Ways In Which Kansas Sucks', this entry will tackle handgun concealed carry. Just as I did with the piece on religion and dating, I'll preface by saying this isn't intended to become a debate on gun control. Regardless of what end of the spectrum you fall, your opinion is yours and I respect that. Should someone post a 'guns should be outlawed' response, I will ridicule them for not reading this opening paragraph. Onward...

If I'm allowed to carry a concealed handgun in the state I live, I'll have a carry permit (and have for 25 years). Since many readers have likely never applied for a concealed carry permit (CCW), I'll compare and contrast Kansas with the two other states in which I've held permits, Virginia and Pennsylvania. All three are 'shall issue' states, which means they will issue anyone a carry permit, unless a legitimate reason exists to not do so (i.e. felon, domestic abuse, etc.). In other words, the applicant need not justify the need for a permit (i.e. owns a jewelry store and carries large sums of cash) to receive one.

Rather than prosthelytize on why I hold a carry permit or any of that nonsense, I'll skip right to the processes. For Kansas, it's a long read.

Step 1 - Complete a mandatory 8 or 9 hour class on handgun proficiency and laws, then pass the shooting practical and a written exam (that literally no one was allowed to fail). Cost $99 and a whole Saturday learning where the trigger was. Do your best to not call out the instructor when his claims of speed and accuracy would make him far better than the pro shooters you know (I shot competitively for 15 years, so I know a few; more on that soon). Also, try to not poke fun at the convoluted process, when he explains it (I failed that one).

Step 2 - Have a passport photo taken. Cost $5

Step 3 - Complete application, affix passport photo, and write two different checks, totaling $132.50.

Step 4 - Submit application, checks, and your cert of completion from the class to the local sheriff's office, in person. While there, get fingerprinted by an attractive deputy.

Step 5 - Wait for your notification of approval to arrive in the mail; it was two months to the day, for me.

Step 6 - Take notification letter to local drivers license center and have your picture taken and receive a temporary permit (that looks like a bar bill). Try to not wonder where the passport photo you submitted went to. Cost $16

Step 7 - Wait for your final final permit to arrive in the mail. That only took a little over a week.

All in, you'll invest $250+, in addition to time and fuel. BTW, the permit is good for 4 years.

Let's compare to Pennsylvania and Virginia. They're similar, so I'll run them down in the same process listing.

Step 1 - Fill out form

Step 2 - Take form and check for $35 (give or take) to sheriff's office. Fingerprints all around.

Step 2A - VA requires you to prove some level of proficiency with a gun, but the hurdle is low. I submitted old score sheets from matches I shot.

Step 2D - I also seem to recall that PA wanted a photo as well, last time I renewed there. But it went directly from you to your permit.

Step 3 - Receive permit in mail in around 2 weeks.

Permits are good for 5 years.

Holy fucking shit! One can't help but think that the folks who came up with the Kansas process were both drooling, inbred morons and completely corrupt. So again, welcome to my shit show...refreshments are available in the lobby.

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