"All women have that no-sex-on-the-first-date rule, and all women want a reason to break it," writes bachelor blogger and spokesperson for all women Jozen Cummings. God, this "men talking for women" crap again? I'm bored already.
In a Washington Post write up that reads like a study of the chief in a heretofore hidden tribe of douchebags, the unfortunately-named Cummings acts like he's the first person in history who hasn't wanted to get married before age 30 and who enjoys meeting women in social settings and later having sex with them without much emotional commitment. His blog waxes poetic about the wisdom of going home to a woman's place rather than bringing a woman home, because then you can leave when you want rather than having to kick someone out. He's the first person to ever realize this.
He is a human Axe Body Spray commercial.
Cummings, 29, wearing a black pin-striped shirt, is in full bachelor mode. Women confuse him with the singer Drake, and he takes that as a compliment.
A black pin-striped shirt? Color me amazed by his groundbreaking originality.
Like many dudes who you should not reward by touching their penises, Cummings believes that he knows all about what women want and what men want, because, as everyone with the emotional scope and world view of a third grader knows, your own personal experience is also the experience of every single other person in the entire world.
Women have been falling for it, though. Cummings brags that he would need to be an octopus with starfish fingers in order to tally up the number of his sexual partners. It would probably take about as many fingers for me to tally this guy's self esteem issues that he attempts to remedy by sticking his penis in things.
There's nothing wrong with not wanting to be in a relationship, and there's nothing wrong with not wanting to get married. There's something embarrassing about the appalling lack of self-awareness necessary to, at an age barely over the median marriage age for men with college degrees, to write a blog where you purport to be an expert at bachelorhood, to write about sex (something that people have been doing literally forever) as though you're the first to discover that it feels nice, to purport to have made the amazing discovery that sometimes it's nice to fuck without responsibility. His blog and public persona goes beyond being Captain Obvious and gets into Captain Oblivious territory. You're not George fucking Clooney, dude. You're just another bro at a bar pissing on my leg and telling me it's raining.