Write a book: 1.5 years
Get published: 4.5 years
Close on a house: 2 months
Earn PMP certification: 4 months
Eliminate body fat: 10 months
Get tattooed: 1 month
Earn Toastmasters Competent Communicator: 15 months

So apparently I am a doer. By year’s end I expect to lift the full weight stack on my gym’s leg extension machine five consecutive times, with a 5/2/5 cadence. I also plan to follow through with my goal to date Olivia Wilde or someone similar. I will be the sole judge of “similar”.

I created a profile on Plenty of Fish, the largest free dating site. I know you’re thinking, Ben, you get what you pay for. But there’s so many fishies there that surely some must accept me for my wealth accumulation (read: cheapness) and sports car-hybrid (read: 1999 Chevrolet Cavalier coupe. It's red.) I’ve already messaged a few with my typical silliness, and have not yet received bites. In the words of Trick Daddy, if you don’t appreciate my humor then “I don't even care 'bout ya!"

Marketing my book has taught me lessons that I’ll utilize. Three feelers will not suffice. I must bombard these fish to sustain constant bait. As three fish brush past my lure, three more baits must be in the works. I must tweak my hook to the audience. Finding nice tilapia to hang out with sounds pleasant, but these sharks want “relationships.”

Plenty of Fish accommodates precise searching. No way am I willing to swim more than two nautical miles to “relationship” these fish. Having lived through twenty-eight mating seasons is too many and twenty-five too few; stripes must be exactly two millimeters wide; and camouflaged fish are creepy. One would think this precision leads to a fishless sea, but the site name is not lying.

There are other free seas, too, like local Meetups and female penitentiaries. Don’t discount our justice system making errors, or beautiful fish earning second chances. Surely Olivia Wilde has smoked some marijuana outside of California. Jail her!

I will do my best to blog about my fishing progress, in so far as it doesn’t impose on my catches or dignity. Though, all potential fish should know that I only engage in self-deprecation and not fish-bashing. Be your own judge regarding the blurry distinction between non-fiction and fiction (read: my typical bullshit).

I also may offer a date via this blog. The date’s appeal would not be me, but rather a fancy June affair in Washington, D.C., where tickets go for $200. Man-dates are not off the table. Considering the epic failure of my last free offer, I may have to expand to the whole world’s oceans including male penitentiary prison guards or inmates.

Just no salmon, not now or ever. All potential fishes must also accept me for that prejudice.

Keep reading:
My Cupidity