Don't be fooled: I'm still no swan, not by a long shot, but I'm no longer the limp creep-boy that all girls find both sad and disgusting.

Since November 7th back in 2001, I have not updated this site. But since summer of 2002, I have tried numerous times, but was not able to find a way to make constant updates, and wasn't certain how to explain this change in appearance and personality while maintain the same theme and motif.  Much of my concepts to make the site interesting again died before I could even think of what to do with them.  All those people who signed my "Lovebook" saying that I was dead, or killed myself were right, in a sense, as who I was did die, and I did kill myself -- via character assassination, but time and biology were the real culprits here.

Stop.

For those of you who are first time readers, here is a brief bulleted history of my site.

• The Beginning. I was an ugly 16, almost 17, year old with the sole prerogative of making a web site to find a date. I included sappy poetry, a romanticized view on relationships, and a huge phobia of actual girls. Besides making a site dedicated to this, hey, every man is guilty of these things. But in extremes like this, it's okay to cast the first stone. My ridicule was much deserved. 

• The Surge. This site got a ton of hits and publicity. I was featured on other websites, and in Kerrang! magazine, a British underground heavy metal magazine, or some kind of an alternative music rag. I even had a mild feud with some semi-popular E/N site. I was the centerpiece for ridicule and the poster child of the side-effects of puberty. And I was still stupid, still grinning, and ever more hopeless than before. Oh, yea, and incredibly horny. Yea. Really, really, really horny.

• Enter Judas. I could take internet harassment, and even the mild harassing I received at school -- but once a friend of mine found this site, he couldn't hold back. He had sold me out to a few of the popular people for some cheap laughs at my expense. He had hoped to obtain popularity from it, but he was quickly brushed off after exposing me -- instead of him gaining notoriety, I was the one receiving all of the attention, and I was mocked non-stop. My poetry was printed and posted around school. My friend returned to the group of outcasts we had both been part of prior.  I didn't.  The outcasts had outcasted me. 

• The Apocalypse. Around month after my last update, the day before Christmas break, I got called into the principal's office. My parents were there. They were concerned, but, moreso, angry and humiliated. I was plucked and placed into psychotherapy, for only 4 sessions, then sent off to a boarding school, which wasn't all that bad, seeing I didn't have any friends any longer at my old school, and it was co-ed. There, I met Shelley. I will get back to her, though. 

• The Lapse in time... A few changes in design revealed that I wanted to stick with the same gimmick, but could not. And now we are up to pace... 
  
  But you probably want to hear about Shelley, as my love life was, and in a sense, still is the focus of this site. But first, Debra.
  
  Debra was the best-looking girl at my old high school. She was on the cheer-leading team, had blonde hair, hazel eyes, and the attention of the entire male population. She had done small modeling gigs for local shops and racing events. Her voice was hypnotic, she sang in a jazz band on weekends at local restaurants and her uncle's bar.  She was a grade below me.
  
  Now, back to Shelley.
  
  Shelley was a punk rock girl. She could not sing nor play an instrument, but she embraced the culture. She did not go to the shows, as there wasn't much of a scene where we were, and she was too overly-conscious about her weight to go into the most pits. She was 5'4" and probably 180 pounds, which is a tad much for her height. Her hair was dyed green before she was sent to boarding school, and she had a nose-ring which she occasionally put in when we had passes to go into town on weekends. She was a bit more experienced than me, but not by much. She had only had one partner, who was an unemployed punk rocker twice her age. She lived in an apartment with him in his apartment after running away from home. One morning, she woke up and he was gone. She was only a minor, alone in a small college town in Jersey (a few states away from home). Three days later, she returned home, and was immediately sent to the same boarding school as I was (in Massachusetts).
  
  I tried swooning her with clever dialogue, copying her mannerisms, and acting philosophical. She laughed and told me that I was a loser. The dam broke. I started crying, but instead of mocking me further, she comforted me. She told me that things would be okay, and that she'd help me talk to girls. We became friends two days later, when we saw each other the first time after in the cafeteria. Within 2 months, we had started dating. With my... improved hygiene... my acne had dispersed... my braces were taken out in early January, which before I even met her (mid-January)... she seemed within my league.  Though naive, I was growing a little more realistic.
  
  Surprisingly, and thankfully, no one recognized me from my site at my new school. I had thought that my past was all behind me. Life was good.
  
  Then Debra, from my old high school, sent me an e-mail, asking me to call her. She wanted me, ME, Joe Schwartz, the guy who liked "hacking... girls," to go to the prom with her. Now, I had been going out with Shelley for only a little while, and this wasn't too in character, but how could I turn down an offer like this? Needless to say, I told all of my new friends that I was going home that day for a family member's birthday party, and no one questioned a thing.
  
  I skipped classes and returned by bus, then stole money for a tux, no one even suspected me, as I was off at boarding school and didn't announce coming home. I then waited for my date in front of the school (our prom was in the gym). She had another date with her, and there I was, standing alone with a bouquet of roses. She didn't even look over at me.
  
  I sat out in the parking lot, far from public view, frustrated, sobbing, trying to make something out of it. I decided that the new me wouldn't sit out in the parking lot and cry all night, so I walked into that gym, tapped Debra on the shoulder, and asked her why she couldn't be honest with me. She looked confused, and I asked her why she called me and asked me out on a date to the prom, then show up with another guy.
  
  10 minutes later, I was back in the parking lot, sobbing, crying, but not alone.  I was bleeding from my nose thanks to four or so football team players' feet and fists, speckling prints all over my body. Most of those attending watched the assault, and probably considered it the highlight of the evening.
  
  Bastards.
  
  I had been duped. I still don't know by who. If it were Debra, an old enemy, an ex-friend. I called the number back a week later, but it was, of course, out of service and unlisted.
  
  Around 4 am, I took the bus back (after changing out of my tux, which was ruined so I threw it away at the bus stop) to school. The next day Shelley asked what happened, I told her not to speak of it. She did further, and I got annoyed and yelled at her. I told her that she was fat, and that we should start seeing other people.
  
  I cried myself to sleep that night.  That was the first time I ever did.
  
  She dated 3 people in the next two weeks. I was torn. We got back together a month later, with only a few weeks until graduation. I told her what had happened and how ashamed I was of myself, thinking that I had grown, but revealed myself to be such a gullible, shallow person. We both came the to consensus that I deserved the beating that night.  I still don't know why she took me back, in all honesty.
  
  High school was coming to an end. Shelley was going to Maryland for the summer, then to college in Arizona. I was going to live at home and go to a community college, then maybe a state school. Graduation day was the last day we ever saw each other. But the night before we left, I had written a poem for her. It was lame. It was cheesy. But it was supposed to be.  It was a joke. It was even worse than "Girly-Girl."  (Yes, that's possible!).  I had realized what I once was, and it was my way of poking fun of how I was just 6 months prior. We laughed about it for 30 minutes, I took her out to dinner, then, in a small clearing on the nature trail behind the school: we made love. It was phenomenal! If I were at my old school, I'd not have so much kissed a girl, or even talk to one and be humored. It, of course, didn't last long at all, mere minutes, in fact -- but seven months later, even on the most lonely and depressing nights, I lay back in my bed, take a deep breath, and I can still feel the effects.
  
  I haven't had many partners since Shelley, I haven't had any actually. I was only at community college with an information science major for 1 semester, but I didn't keep my grades up, I didn't even go to most of my classes, actually. They asked that I take a semester off, and get my act together.
  
  As of now, I'm working for slave wage at a roadside convenience store. Making money for enrollment next semester.
  
  Getting my act together.
  
  Information science wasn't the thing for me, anyway. I'm thinking of going into English. For poetry.  that's more of my style.
  
  Just kidding, of course!  Those days are over... Journalism or mass communications, are actually what I'd like to get into.
  
  Things may seem rather bleak right now, but I do have hope. This tree-bird is still learning.  Still growing.  Still flying.
  
  And as for Shelley, we write back and forth through e-mail every so often, but she's found another boyfriend at her new college (within the first 4 days!). I think that I'm maybe okay with that, though, at least a little. I could sulk and be jealous, but there are plenty of other girls out there, and, who knows, maybe there's even one out there for a self-proclaimed "fun-loving" ex-nerd of an ugly-duckling like Joseph P. Schwartz, just another almost-19 year old male residing in a small town in the state of Delaware, searching for the one thing that matters most in the end, his one true love.
  
  The End.
  
  
  
  Click here for the old site.
  
  e-mail me at: wizardman84@yahoo.com