Intro: January of 2003, MTV came to Chicago and followed me for a week, filming everything I did for a documentary about me that focused on internet dating. This is the story of that week and the aftermath of my MTV appearance.

This is a LONG story, and not a typical Tucker Max 10 laughs a page story. It gets lengthy and forensic at times because I try to convey a sense of being there to the reader, to feel what it's like to have your life invaded by MTV and to have a camera follow you around for a week. I didn't really focus that much on what they filmed--you can watch the show and see for yourself what I am like on camera. I tried to get behind the scenes, to give you a perspective that the camera and show couldn't give.

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I was sitting at my computer, probably searching for lesbian donkey porn, when it beeped, alerting me to a new email. The subject line said "MTV's Sex2K Show." The email address was from [name]@mtvstaff.com.

It was January 6th, 2003. My site went up September 9th, 2002.

4 months. It's about fucking time they found me.

The email said they wanted to talk to me about being on an upcoming show. I responded immediately, and exchanged emails with a girl named Paulette, until she finally got me on the phone. We spoke for a while, and she asked questions about me, my dating life, my website--the standard interview type things.

I'll be honest: I pulled out the "A game" on this phone interview. I was witty, charming, and funny without trying to be so, I was outrageous, but not over the top, I was sympathetic to Paulette about the difficulty of her job (associate producer)--I was pure Tucker Max. Paulette kept a pretty good poker voice, only laughing a few times, but apparently she was impressed enough to say that they were considering me as one of the subjects of the show, and asked me to email her a synopsis of my next date.

The next night I went out with a girl, wrote the story, and sent it to Paulette. This is what I sent:

-----Original Message-----
From: Tucker Max
To: Paulette
Subject: Date update #1

I am not sure how much detail you want on these dates, so I will write a pretty parse synopsis, and if you want more detail you can always ask.

I forgot to tell you about this during the phone interview, but a few days ago, I got this email:

"From: "***** *****"
To: tuckermax@tuckermax.com
Subject: Nextel Two-Way Message

come to underground wonder bar now"

I was confused at first, but then I realized this was a text message from a Nextel phone. Then I recognized the name as a girl that had emailed me a few times that week. I called the number, and she told she was out, and asked me to come meet her.

You have to realize--I have no idea who this girl is. She loved my website so she emailed me from her cell phone and invited me out. It was 1am, but I still met her out at that bar, and believe it or not, she was smoking hot, and very cool. We had a great time, were out until 5am, and decided to meet up again, the date being last night.

We decided that she would come to my place so I could cook her dinner and then she wants to, get this--play me in Scrabble. She is apparently very smart, and wants to match wits with me. These were the plans.

Last night she came over. I cooked dinner and then we played Scrabble. She loves Scrabble, which is hilarious because she is really hot, and the hot/smart combination is not something I find very often. We had a great time, but I don't think I see this going anywhere romantic. She is unquestionably beautiful and smart, which makes this all the more depressing, but here are her problems:

1. She smokes, and probably won't quit. Smoking is nasty, and I can't kiss a smoker.
2. She is way too hyper, and probably an ex-drug addict. Though she hasn't said anything about it, I am betting that she used to do drugs, probably coke. Evidence: she is a huge Red Bull drinker, she has an addictive personality and a permissive nature/aura, and she currently volunteers one night a week at a hospital doing drug-rehab counseling. You can't counsel that stuff without using it first. Plus she has that inherent nervous hyperness that all ex-coke-addicts-turned-caffeine-addicts have.
3. She has a worn out quality to her. Dating her is like shopping at a consignment store: No matter how cool that dress you found is, you will always know someone else wore it first. (This is not to say I want a virgin. Far from it. I just want oats that haven't already been through the horse).

Is this the sort of updates you are looking for? More, less, same?"


Paulette called me the same day, told me she loved the email, that it was exactly what she was looking for, and the head producer would be calling me later that day or tomorrow.

The producer didn't call me that day, even though I kept staring at my phone demanding that it ring. Later that night was when I first went out with Jez, and had the infamous Two Vagina conversation. The story I wrote about it is almost exactly what I wrote to the MTV producers the next day. I sent that story to Paulette and about 2 hours later I got a call. The area code on the caller-ID: 212. It's showtime.

The caller identified herself as Kim Cowin, the MTV producer of the Sex2K documentary tentatively titled "High Speed Dating." She said she had read my emails, seen some of the website, and wanted to ask me a few questions.

She must interview some real winners for MTV, because her questions came straight out of a high school newspaper. Questions like "Can you go in front of a camera," "Are you outgoing," "Do you go on a lot of dates?," almost had me laughing at her. I understood why she was asking the questions; she was trying to figure out if I would be entertaining, if I was legit or just some dickhead with a creative imagination, but this was just silly. Finally I stopped her and said,

"I'm not an actor, and I won't 'not be me' just to be on MTV, but believe this: 'Me' is more than enough. You have stumbled onto a goldmine with me. We're going to make TV history."

My overwhelming arrogance combined with the website must have done it, because she started selling me on being a subject for the show. It was like in a job interview, when the interviewer switches from asking about your resume to talking about herself and the job--you know you are in. She described the format the show: there are three segments, one was on three minute dating (HurryDate), one was on standard internet dating (Match.com), and one was an "other" category (me).

She eventually asked if I wanted to do it. I gave a cool, relaxed, "Yeah, I think it'd be fun," and we scheduled the filming dates, Jan 28th through February 3rd.

This was it. My website had been up 5 months, and I already had MTV calling me. Not only that, but this show was an absolute godsend. MTV was going to follow me for 5 entire days, and show the highlights in an hour long documentary style show, a third of it dedicated to me and my website. All to be shown on one of the most watched networks on cable TV. Are you kidding?

Of course, being the shameless self-promoter I am, I called all my friends, all my family, everyone I know. My friends were excited and started making plans to come to Chicago when MTV was going to film, but my family was completely befuddled. My mom was especially confused about this:

Mom "MTV? Why the hell do they want to film you?"
Tucker "Mom, do you realize who I am? Do you have any idea how popular and revolutionary my site is? Tens of thousands of people a day come to my site. I know no one is a hero to their mom, but still--mom--I am going to be an icon. My generation's Hunter Thompson. Mom, this is my first step to becoming a star."
Mom "Oh Jesus. You are so full of shit."
Tucker "Mom, you're old, you're not supposed to understand it."
Mom "Well, be polite and be nice. Don't be your normal self."
Tucker "Mom? The entire reason they are coming to film me is because I'm not nice and polite. This is MTV mom, they want asshole nutjobs."
Mom "Alright, I guess I'm gonna still watch it. Just don't embarrass me."
Tucker "There's nothing I could do on MTV that would embarrass you any more than you embarrass yourself on a daily basis."
Mom "Shut up you little twit!"

One of my cousins sent me this (the sister of TheCousin from The UT Weekend Story):

"GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK!!!!!!! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU'RE DOING THIS. ACTUALLY, I CAN. AND MAYBE IF YOU'RE LUCKY, YOU'LL GET ONE OF THE REJECTS FROM JOE MILLIONAIRE OR MAYBE EVEN THE BACHELOR TO FILL OUT AN APPLICATION. THEY'RE JUST ABOUT SKANKY ENOUGH FOR MTV. RALPH, OF COURSE. BY THE WAY, THIS IS FROM [TheCousin'sSister]."

By this time, the whole MTV thing had really gotten to my head, and considering that she filled out a Date Application, I called her and said:

Tucker "Cuz, I can't go on a date with you, I know you, MTV wants it to be people I don't already know."
TheCousin'sSister "TUCKER I'M YOUR COUSIN--I DON'T WANT TO GO A DATE WITH YOU."
Tucker "Look, I'm a celebrity now, you're going to have to take this up with my people."
TheCousin'sSister "Your people? Oh Jesus. Is this whole thing serious? Who wants to date you?"
Tucker "You aren't going to get on TV talking to me like this."
TheCousin'sSister "You are so full of yourself."
Tucker "Babe, the day will come when someone calls you and says "Please hold for Tucker Max.""

Over the next few weeks, I dealt almost exclusively with an associate producer at MTV, Serena Hicks, since Kim was apparently too important and busy to talk to me. The first time I spoke to Serena, we must have talked for a good 45 minutes. We covered everything; me, what the show was going to be like, me, her, me. It was nice. Anyway, she loved me. We became quick friends, mainly because she seemed to have a slight worship for me, something I require from all women I hang out with.

A few nights later I was out with some friends telling them all about MTV, and decided to call up Serena. It was only about 9pm, but thanks the plethora of all-you-can-drink events in Chicago, I was sufficiently toasted to make my first MTV producer drunk dial. The conversation went like this:

Serena "Hello."
Tucker "HEY! It's the hottest guy you've ever put on TV!"
Serena "Hi Tucker."
Tucker "I KNEW YOU WERE SMART! I don't care what your co-workers said about you."
Serena "Thank you, Tucker. Are you out drinking?"
Tucker "Does the Pope shit in the woods? Hey, tell my friends that I'm going to be on MTV."

[She talked to them for about 3 minutes, and then the phone was passed back to me.]

Tucker "So you're going to follow me everywhere? EVERYWHERE?"
Serena "Yeah, that's pretty much the plan."
Tucker "Ok, what if I fuck a girl and the condom breaks? Are you going to follow me to Walgreens when the girl needs to get some RU-486?
Serena "Yeah, if Kim wants too, we will."
Tucker "What if I just save everyone the trouble and kick her in the tummy? You gonna get that on tape?"
Serena "Uhh...I don't think so."
Tucker "Hey...Serena...you have a hot voice."
Serena "Thank you."
Tucker "Hey, Serena, I wanted to give you a heads up: You're eventually going to sleep with me, so I want you to appropriately prepare yourself with various lotions and ointments."
Serena "Uhhh, ok."
Tucker "What are you wearing?"
Serena "A moo-moo."
Tucker "WHAT?"
Serena "Tucker, I'm like 250. And short."
Tucker [Long, drunken, contemplative pause] "Yeah...MTV better send a different producer."

My friends were staring at me in complete shock. "Dude, what are you doing? You can't talk to MTV like that." Whatever, I was fucking around. If she can't take a joke, fuck her.

Serena called me the next day and I thought she would pissed at me for the drunk dial. Nope; she wasn't the least bit offended. Well...sounds like a wager to me. I drunk dialed Serena numerous times over the next few weeks, each time saying stupider and more ridiculous things, to see how far I could push her:

"You guys are going to make me look like shit aren't you? After this goes on TV, I'm never going to get laid again am I? To get a wife I'm going to have to buy a 12-year old from some rural Thai village, aren't I?"

"Serena, can you believe I'm going to be on MTV?? This is my chance. I'm gonna nail it like Pontius Pilate."

"I am not going to dance on MTV. I'm not going to be that dorky fucking white guy who dances on MTV. None of the White Man Overbite for Tucker Max."

No matter how much I called her, she always seemed to be happy to talk to me and laughed at my jokes. I guess I can't win them all. MTV-1, Tucker-0.

MTV was scheduled to arrive Tuesday, January 28th. On Monday January 27th, in typical Tucker fashion, I suffered a serious physical injury. While playing basketball at DePaul's gym, I thought I either tore a lower ab muscle, or perhaps suffered a hernia. Whatever it was, it HURT. I just ignored the pain, popped Motrin, and drove on.

MTV DAY 1, Tuesday, January 28th, 2003
The two producers, Kim and Serena, show up at my apartment around 8pm. Neither look anything like what I had anticipated.

Kim, I pictured as tall, creatively disheveled and relatively unattractive. Her phone bearing gave the impression of complete utilitarianism in every aspect of her being; I expected an artistically frustrated stoic, forced into an MTV job she despised in order to pay for her real art, whatever the hell that was. I was completely wrong in almost every way. She is short to the point of near midgetness, like 5'1" or something. She has straight black hair, and is wearing a black ankle length coat with a fur-type collar and a pink angora scarf. Her outfit screams "NY semi-outlandish hip" but she is very attractive, hot even, and carries the quiet confidence of command, so she pulls it off pretty well. Her entire attitude is one of self-possession, subtle (but incisive) intelligence and world-weary coolness. Oh yeah--she also had great tits.

The other woman is the associate producer Serena. From her phone voice, our flirtatious conversations, and her love of my site, I pictured her as a swarthy brunette, about ten pounds overweight but with big breasts, a sassy strut, and a heavy appetite for martinis and man love. I'm not sure if she could have been more different from my vision. She had curly black shoulder length hair, light brown skin and mixed features that bespoke an ethnically mixed parentage, beautiful but timid green eyes, an ankle length brown camel hair coat, and a demeanor that was shy--almost painfully shy--especially when contrasted against her phone moxie. She's the type that could be frumpy if she was unkempt, but she takes good care of herself, so she is nice looking. One gets the impression that she has a deep well of confidence, but has yet to draw much from it.

After the introductions Kim explained the basic rules. The first thing that kinda shocks me is that there are no cameramen. Kim and Serena have a handheld DivX Sony-cam, and they film everything with that. I am going to be miked the whole time, and they are going to ask me questions, but when I answer I can't pay any attention to the camera, I have to act like it's not there--I stop her.

Tucker "I can't do that. You understand the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle? It is about physics, but it applies here: You cannot observe something without changing it. I am going to have to interact with you and the camera. I can't act like it's not here. I'm not an actor."
Kim "Yeah, but we can't have that. You can't interact with the camera becau--"
Tucker "Kim--babe--don't worry. I have a great cinematic sense and I know what will work and what won't. I have everything taken care of. You're dealing with a genius here. I'm not the idiot who got calf implants. I know what I'm doing."

She gave me a slight, "Who the fuck does this guy think he is?" look, then deftly switched gears and explained the way it works. She said she's going to ask the same questions over and over, but because her voice will never appear on the show, when I'm answering a question, I have to preface it and then answer it as if there is no interviewer. For instance, when she asks, "What do you look for in a woman?", I cannot just launch into the answer, I have to say something like, "I look for a lot of things in a woman, like pouty lips, milky thighs..."

Then she asks me and TheRoommate to talk to each other about the upcoming dates, and pretend she's not there. I explain to her that I am not a marionette, I can't just talk about things on command. It has to flow naturally, or it will sound artificial and forced. She responds:

Kim "But I need some conversation about girls."
Tucker "You'll get all the conversation about girls you can handle. I'm the best."
Kim "OK, but I need to do an entertaining show, and I can't just have bar clips--"
Tucker "Stop. Have you read my site?
Kim "Yes."
Tucker "Do you think I have a pretty good sense of story and flow? Did you like my stories?"
Kim "Yes."
Tucker "Well I am just like that in person. This is just as big for me as it is for you. I understand that you have to condense hours of material to hit the high spots. I am with you on this. All you need to do is mike me, fire up the camera, and follow me around. You will get the most entertaining show you've ever done."

You could see the doubt in her eyes, the questioning, "Did I pick the right guy?" look.

She shook it off and started interviewing us, asking about what our social life is like, asking TheRoommate what it's like to live with me, etc, etc. I have to give TheRoommate credit: In a slightly tense situation, he did a great job being the social glue. He led the conversation along, kept it focused on me, set me up to tell funny stories, and generally smoothed everything out for me.

At the beginning of one of the Marley stories I see the red light start blinking and I tell Kim to change tapes. She says we're fine, so I press on, and then right at the cool part of the story she stops me, interrupting my flow, so she can change tapes. I tell her she should have listened to me, that I knew my story was going to run long.

Kim "Rule #1: I'm the producer. Don't tell me what to do."
Tucker "That's fine, you're in charge, but let's not forget that I am a genius and have a great cinematic sense. By the end of the week, you'll be following my suggestions."

She smiled condescendingly, popped the take back in, and told me finish the story.

MTV DAY 2, Wednesday, January 29th, 2003
I wake up at around 915am having gone to bed much earlier than usual, around like midnight. I showered and shaved before they got to my place. They show up at around 1030, and Kim is kind of upset that I'm not still asleep, because they want a shot of me waking up. I tell them they should have gotten here on time, I told them to be here by 9am and gave them my keys.

I don't think MTV people are used to non-MTV people talking to them like this. Fuck'em if they can't be on time.

They sat me at my computer and interviewed me as I was checking my email or posting on the message board or whatever. At first, it was weird talking to the camera. It's not a natural thing to look into a camera and answer a question that a person asks you, and it took me a good half hour to get used to speaking to it. It took even longer to get used to answering the questions. I'd continually forget to preface the question, and Kim would repeat "They're not going to hear my question," over and over.

As the interview progressed, Kim started to really annoy the shit out of me. It began when she was trying to hype me up, telling me I can be a star and what not, when I finally had to stop her,

"You can stop pimping me; you're already filming me, I know what's going on. Don't worry, I will live up to my billing, but you have to let the party come to me, let me get into my flow."

It then became a battle of wills getting used to each other. If you have seen any of the other True Life or Sex2K shows, you know that the type of person on this thing is, generally speaking, a fucking idiot. Kim is accustomed to working with people like Luke (the guy who got calf implants) and she has to script these people, tell them what to say, and lay everything out for them so that she can get an entertaining show.

She tried this shit with me and it didn't work. She'd ask a question, and then suggest an answer I should give. At this, I'd stare at her like she told me to toss a Rhino's salad. You don't script Tucker Max.

I tried to explain to her that I can be prompted but I cannot be scripted. My flow is free and I have to be able to just shoot from the hip. You can tell me what topics you want to cover, maybe ask some leading questions, prompt me a little, but leave me to do the rest. I'm like the Barry Sanders of the verbal flow. You can't force me to run in a specific hole, you just have to give me the ball, block a general area, and let me create my own way downfield.

For example, Kim wanted me to read from my pickup line book. She literally wanted me to sit at my computer and read the foreword to my book into the camera. I almost fucking choked. I refused. I know how stupid that shit looks and I am not falling for it. I can make myself look plenty dumb on my own thank you. It was like she was so used to dealing with no-talent hacks that when she got a Van Gogh on her hands she fumbled a little.

The turning point came later that night when we finally got to the dates. The first date was with Stephanie. I actually didn't want to go on a date with her, and probably wouldn't have met her out, but Serena pressured me to get a third date, and Stephanie was up for it, so I agreed.

The date started awful, because she was not very attractive and I was bored with her almost immediately. After ten minutes of this torture, I took stock of my situation: MTV is filming me talk to an ugly girl. Nothing is clicking, she's kinda boring, I'm off my game, but this is my break. The world is going to see this tape. I am supposed to be some sort of pimp or ladies man or whatever, and I'm on camera with an ugly, making dork conversation about her boring ass job.

So what did Tucker do?

What do you think Tucker did?

I kept pouring beers into my face. Knowing she's a girl and couldn't drink with me, and that lots of alcohol would lead to something, I was ordering rounds as fast at the broke-down actress could bring them. By the time the first bathroom break came, I was starting to get my game on. On bathroom breaks MTV would film the two of us talking about each other into the camera(s), but away from each other. I don't remember exactly what I said about Steph, but I think it was something to the effect that she's a cool girl, but just not good looking enough. The phrase, "Her face looks like it was hit by a bus," may have snuck in there somewhere.

When Steph went to the bathroom, I tried to hit on one of the other waitresses, but she was having NONE of it. I think she would have paid more attention to if I was a leper bleeding from my ass.

We get back to the date, and it was still bombing. I started pushing her, asking various ridiculous questions, testing her limits, when eventually the questions come around to whether or not she likes girls, and I hit the TV jackpot:

"Well, my friend and I have thought about hooking up with each other, but we are looking for the right guy to join us."

Kim, who up until this point was just as bored as me, shot up in her seat. I kept pushing,

Tucker "That's cool. Is she cute?"
Steph "Yeah, she's beautiful."
Tucker "Let's set it up. You me and her. Get her on the phone."

ON CAMERA, ON MTV, I got this girl, WHO JUST MET ME, to commit to a threesome with me and her friend. We couldn't get her friend on the phone but left her a message, and Steph and I agreed she'd bring her friend to the Saturday party at Durkins.

She went to the bathroom, I turned to Kim, we exchanged "What just happened?" looks, and both of us burst out laughing. This finally got Kim to click with me and she was sold on me as a partner in the filming instead of a subject,

"See I told you I knew what I was doing. Just trust me, keep the camera on, and shit will happen. You are seeing the Tucker Max Life. Follow me--I'll show you where the surreal becomes real."

That wasn't my only date that night. I had scheduled two dates, and the second was next door, at Bar Celona. I walk in and lo and fucking behold, Carmen is working. Carmen is possibly one of the best looking girls I have ever seen in my life. You know how sometimes you meet that person who has such overwhelming physical beauty that no matter what else is wrong with them or what immense flaws they possess, you still want them. This girl had that.

As soon as I was in the door I was up her ass. There was no subtlety to my game that night. You will probably see lots of shots of me flirting with her and talking to her on camera. The disturbing thing was that her hair was all fucked up, not straight and silky like the last time I saw her. She looked like she had the Rastafarian Starter Kit going on up there, but the sad part is that she is so hot that she still looked transcendent. I wanted her so bad--just on a raw physical level--that it hurt.

My flirting with Carmen was interrupted when Date #2, Megan, showed up. I don't know if they caught the priceless expression on my face; it was something between mild shock and complete revulsion. This girl is the reason you shouldn't trust two-dimensional representations of three dimensional objects. It was--quite simply--not the girl in the pictures she sent to me.

She was nervous to begin with, and I think she picked up on my thinly-veiled disgust, which only served to make her more nervous. We talked for awhile, and I have no memory of what we talked about as it was boring and shitty. The only thing I enjoyed was openly flirting with Carmen on camera in front when she would come over and get us beers or something.

During the bathroom break/interview, I really shit on her. I almost feel bad all the stuff I said. Emphasis on "almost." I believe I said things like, "She should have sent me a current picture, not the one that she took before her nose and chin grew to super-human proportions," I might have mentioned something about her being "obnoxiously ugly," and I think I capped it all off with, "No really, she's a great girl, a nice person, and I have nothing bad to say about her. Except that she sucks."

I started probing her. I went down the bi-sexual route for awhile, but I already hit that summit with that last girl, so I switched courses and started calling her out. I bet her she wouldn't go slap the fat girl sitting next to us, and tell her not to eat anymore quesadillas, because that's how she got fat in the first place. She declined. I bet she wouldn't grab Carmen's ass. Declined. I bet she wouldn't throw a side plate at the bouncer. She accepted.

She threw it at him without warning, and to his credit, he caught it. It was pretty funny, but I dismissed it, and then bet her she wouldn't throw the plate on the floor and break it. She hesitated, so I told her that I'd throw one right after her. She wound up like Randy Johnson and fired that thing into the ground, shattering it everywhere. I doubled over in my chair laughing. The entire bar stopped and turned to look at us. The place was completely quiet except for me laughing. I had to get up and walk around I was laughing so hard, just leaving her sitting there by herself, camera's on her, everyone staring at her. I had no intention of throwing a plate, I just wanted to see how big of an ass she would make of herself, and she made a pretty big one.

After this crowning event to the night, I had no more use for her, so I eventually make it clear that I wanted her to leave. Yawning, I tell her that I'm leaving soon, whatever, let's just end this now. In reality, I wanted her to go so I could hit on Carmen with MTV there.

Megan gone, I started macking on Carmen, and in the beginning of what would become a theme with MTV on this trip, they screwed the pooch and missed one of the best parts of the night. I told Kim to keep the camera on me at all times, to always be filming me, because no one, including myself, had any idea when I was going to do something entertaining. This is the conversation MTV missed when I was hitting on Carmen:

Carmen "I don't want a camera filming you hitting on me."
Tucker "Why? Boyfriend?"
Carmen "No, not really...we're on a break."
Tucker "Yeah. I bet. So when we are going to hang out?"
Carmen "See...I'm not really into dates."
Tucker "Who said I wanted to date you? What are you into then? Getting baked and having three guys run train on you. Sounds good to me, as long as I'm first."

She actually laughed at this and took my number. She never called, which is not really that much of a shock. I have a feeling that this girl wakes up with crystal meth and goes to sleep with heroin. But goddamn, she's so hot it wouldn't matter. At least for a few weeks.

I decide that I need to have sex and get my laundry done. I made a booty call then went over to a girl's place, with my laundry. Serena rode with me in my car, and I told the story of how I won my car in a poker game and talked generally about how all women are whores, and just because this girl accepted my booty calls and laundry duties, it didn't make her more or less of whore than any other girl.

At the girl's apartment, MTV pissed me off badly. I walked in with my laundry, and then they called me on my cell and asked me to come back out so they could get some more shots of me walking into her apartment. This did not please me. If you notice, the shots they have from behind me I have two laundry bags, while the shot they have from the front I only have one bag.


MTV DAY #3, Thursday, January 30th
Most of the morning was spent with me answering the same questions over and over. I went to lunch with my friend Joe. I forget where we went, somewhere that was pretty good but way overpriced and haughty. But the restaurant picked up our tab and the chef came out to meet us, so it was cool. The highlight of lunch was me eating Kim's food while she was interviewing Joe about me.

I spent the rest of the day running errands and just being Tucker Max. I made fun of people all over Chicago; the grocery store, the gym, Starbucks. The funniest was the gym. Kim just followed me around as I ripped on people. For example, this fucked up looking girl walked by and I said into the camera, "See that girl? She's the type that no matter how bad your day is, you feel good that at least you're not her.'"

There was one incident that I hate myself for. I believe I may have single-handedly caused a girl to attempt suicide.

When I went to get some water, I walked by the line of cardio machines and this one fat girl was in black spandex tights. I say into my mike, "I guess tight pants aren't for everyone." A good impromptu line I thought, and of course, fucking MTV misses it. But she loves the line and convinces me to walk by again, only this time commenting on all the girls as I walk by. I don't like this because I hated staged shit. You have to catch me being me, I can't perform on command. Plus, when I walked by the first time I think the girl heard me. That wouldn't bother me that much, but to walk by and say it again borders on harassment.

None of these pangs of moral compunction stopped me, of course. I walked by again, and AGAIN KIM MISSED THE SHOT. I was pissed. This time the girl definitely knew what I was doing, but I wasn't sure if she heard me. Great. Kim and Serena convince me to go by one more time, and this time it is painfully fucking obvious what I am doing. The girl hears me, and the look on her face was almost enough to make me feel bad. When my calcified soul is touched from making fun of a fat girl, you know it's bad. Not ten minutes later the girl put on a sweatshirt and tied another shirt around her waist. I guarantee she went home and purged herself. Oh well, if she didn't kill herself at least she'll now have some incentive to lose weight.

Kim went back to the hotel and Serena filmed me getting ready for my Thursday date. When I was finished with my shower Serena wanted to get a shot of me shaving. I told her to come in the bathroom.

Serena "WHY ARE YOU NAKED?"
Tucker "I just got out of the shower. Do you shower with clothes on?"
Serena "WHERE IS YOUR TOWEL?"
Tucker "In my room."

She insisted that I have a towel on when she filmed me, so I told her that she had to go get my towel and wrap it around me if she wanted one on me, because I had shaving cream in my hand. She hesitated, but eventually got my towel and, without any help from me, wrapped it around my wet naked body. Right when she had her arms around my waist and her face staring right into my crotch, I told her, "Get a good look, that's the closest you're ever going to get to greatness." It's amazing what MTV will do for a shot.

That night was my third date of the week, with Reese. I met her at Joe's Sports Bar, and she was actually better looking than her pics, which was a nice switch. She also turned out to be very cool, was but completely out of control. WAY too manic, to the point where I had trouble getting anything in. I kept saying things like "let's keep the conversation about me," or "let's talk about me again."

During the bathroom/interview interlude, I told the camera that she was cool, she was fun and I liked her, but there was no romantic spark. Kim pressed me on this issue, wanted to know why there was no spark. I told her for two main reasons; 1. she's seen my site and she has dated and been played by guys like me and isn't going to fall for that game again, and 2. she is way to egocentric for me. I like to be worshipped, and she wasn't about to do that.

We left Joes and went to Parkway, where we met up with ten of my friends and one of her friends. Girls that kept coming up and asking us who we are filming for. I got bored with the repetitive questions, and quickly came up with some inventive answers:

"I have no idea. I thought you knew."
"It's the Make-A-Wish Foundation. I have a terminal brain tumor and my last wish is to be famous, so MTV is filming me for their show "True Life: I'm Dying From Brain Cancer.""
"They're doing a show on convicted pedophiles dating after they get out of prison." [Look of shock on her face] "Hey, she told me she was 18. If there's grass on the field play ball right?"

The best was a girl who shamelessly hit on me for a good 30 minutes, then out of nowhere goes, "Wait--is this going to be on TV? OH MY GOD! My boyfriend might see this!" She even emailed me a few weeks later and, no shit, begged me no to put that scene in, as she is a kindergarten teacher and her students might see her. Do I even need to make a joke here?

That night I was shocked out of my sleep at around 4am with a pain so intense I could barely breathe. My lower right abdomen felt as though it had been stabbed with a rusty serrated kitchen knife and twisted around in my gut. I had to crawl out of my bed and it took me about 30 minutes to get to the bathroom and grab the Advil. I'm not sure how many I took, but it was well above the recommended dosage. If by "well above" I mean "half the bottle." I drank as much water as I could and then lay on the bathroom floor, curled in a ball, writhing in agony for about another hour, until I could finally make it back to my bed.


MTV DAY #4, Friday, January 31st
The next day was not much better. I had an Advil and Motrin breakfast, but had to walk around doubled up in pain for about an hour until they kicked in. Serena tried to convince me to go to the ER, but that was a definite no go, "It's just a torn muscle [short gasp of breath, writhe in pain], no big deal." Serena disagreed, "Tucker, that is not muscle pain. You might have appendicitis." Yeah thanks, unless my life depends on it there is no way I am going to the ER with MTV. Sorry. Eventually the pain killers took effect and we went about our day.

Friday was just Serena and I, as Kim was too busy taking conference calls and being an important producer. Being that I list my occupation as "writer," they wanted some shots of me at a bookstore. I decide to throw my old school a bone and get my bookstore shots at the Co-op, which is the primary bookstore at the University of Chicago.

We decided to have lunch afterwards, just Serena and I, completely off-camera. I guarantee that she was pissed she didn't film that lunch. I told her two of the funniest stories I have (The Embassy Suites Ban and The Cancun Story), and both of them not only had her in tears, but both tables next to us. One girl laughed so hard she literally fell out of her chair.

I dropped Serena off at her hotel and went back to my place to get ready. I was going to meet MTV at my friends Joe's apartment, and then we were all going out on what was bound to be an incredible night.

My boy Joe had set us up. We has dinner at Gibson's, 2 hours in the DJ VIP booth at Domain with bottle service, two hours on the bed at Narcisse and a couple of bottles of champagne, and a VIP booth at Rive Gauche with bottle service...all free. Every single fucking thing was comped. Going out with MTV is cool.

We met up with two girls at Gibson's. The blond was one, Jill, was Joe's date and the tall one with dark hair, Erin, was my date. I was pleased that my date was hot, but goddamn--I doubt she could have been any dumber and still be considered human. It was immediately and painfully obvious with her first comment that she was irreversibly stupid. Gibson's is one of the premier steakhouses in America, Erin takes one look at the menu and says, "This menu is all meat."

I gave her one of those "can you really this stupid" looks, and though Erin didn't see me I am pretty sure Kim caught my expression on camera. It turned out that they are both vegetarians. I quickly ordered a tall double Goose on the rocks and resolved to suffer through her for two reasons: 1. I was on MTV and didn't fell like tearing her to pieces and then going stag the rest of the dinner, and 2. her body was so ridiculously hot I couldn't help it. Beauty can overcome stupidity. At least short-term.

Even though you will probably see lots of shots of that night, in all honesty, I didn't have that great of a time. Yes, there were some really funny incidents, like the strawberries and cream at Domain, the skinny girl who wouldn't leave us alone on the bed at Narcisse, or the throngs of worthless whores who kept pestering us at Rive Gauche, but I just did not like much about the night.

It wasn't me. It wasn't a true Tucker Max night out, mainly because I hate night clubs. I really, really hate them, and every place we went that night was a club. The only people who go to clubs are the ones who have nothing to say. They intentionally make it oppressively loud in clubs because it's impossible to sound stupid if no one can hear you.


MTV DAY #5, Saturday, February 1st
As much as Friday was not me, Saturday was pure Tucker Max. The plan was too to meet up with my friend Zach Albarran, who was having his birthday party at Durkins. My friends congregated at my place around 6pm, and we started pre-partying Tucker Max style: beer and shots of Tucker Death Mix.

The crew hanging out with me was something of an eclectic mix; there were two law school friends (JoJo and PWJ), my roommate (TheRoommate), my cousin (TheCousin) and his friend (BrownSquirrel), and friends of mine from Chicago (Bret and WhatHeSay).

[The funny thing is, you'll see on tape that the pre-party at my apartment has like three black guys there. People are going to think I'm all diverse and multicultural, when the simple fact is that almost every minority I know on earth was at my place that night. I didn't design that way or even realize what was going on until afterwards.]

Now, let me warn you about the video of me on Saturday night: I was not just drunk. I was not just Tucker Max drunk; I was the very definition of Tucker Max Drunk. It was quite possibly one of the ten drunkest nights of MY LIFE. I usually don't like cataloging how much I drink during a night, because as my friend Craig once put it, "Only pussies count," but this one time, to give you a notion of my mindset, and to let you know why I did what I did, I am going to do it:

-At my apartment:
5-6 beers
3 shots, Tucker Death Mix (moonshine, Red Bull and Gatorade)

-At The Headquarters (another apartment we stopped at before Durkins):
3-4 beers
1 shot, Jaegermeister

-At Durkins (this is a conservative count, based on a forensic examination of bar tabs):
7-10 beers
8-10 Irish Car Bombs (A pint of Guinness with a shot of Baileys and Jameson dropped in it)
4 shots, red girly stuff
3 shots, clear girly stuff
1 shot, tequila

-In total:
15-20 beers
12 shots
8-10 Irish Car Bombs

Honestly--I am surprised I didn't die. Though I did vomit. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It was funny walking into that place with two cameras following me. Everyone was watching me, to the point where it got annoying. Kim and Serena would be filming me talking to some girl and there would be no one in the camera light, but right on the rim of the camera light, forming a half circle behind Kim and Serena, would be dozens of people watching me. Other places had been pretty cool about stopping this, but Durkin's didn't give a fuck.

At some point, the girl who promised me a threesome on the Wednesday night date, Steph, showed up with her friend. As soon as she saw me she started yelling, "Tucker. I'm here! With my FRIEND!"

I was standing next to TheCousin and we were talking to some girls. He took one look at her and bellowed:

"HER?? YOU'RE PROUD ABOUT HAVING A THREESOME WITH HER?? SHE'S A COW!"

Then he turned right into her face and yelled:

"MOOOOO!! MOOOOOOO!! IS HE GONNA MILK YOU? MOOOOO!"

I really do love that kid sometimes. I completely lost it. Spilled my drink and everything.

When I finally regained my composure, I figured she would be gone but she was still standing there, telling me she was there with her "friend." I was kinda into the girl I was talking to at the moment, and wasn't in the mood to deal with her when I knew she and her friend were a sure thing, so on camera, I calmly told her,

"Alright, alright, that's cool. Just come back later. Come find me at the end of the night. I'm busy right now."

Dissed for a threesome. On MTV. Wow.

Later on in the night TheCousin got Steph's friend to give him head. In Durkin's bathroom. At least he told me so I didn't go home with those two.

I wish I could give you a detailed description of the things that happened that night, but I was absolutely, completely, full-blown Tucker Max Drunk. I remember very little about that night, especially anything after the first hour or so. The night is mainly just a blur of drinks and disparate images. But there are some memories that stand out:

-One of the Irish Car Bombs round became a chugging contest. I finished last, spilling most of it all over myself. That's on tape.

-You'll probably see me spending much of Saturday night talking to a cross-eyed girl. I didn't know she was cross-eyed for the same reason I couldn't pick her face out of a crowd the next day: She had great tits and I did nothing but blatantly stare at them. She got mad and eventually left after I talked to her breasts instead of her face and called her different names every 20 minutes.

-One of my friends, Andrea, was there. I must have welcomed her to the party 3 times at least. Every time I saw her I would be like, "HEY ANDREA! I'm glad you made it."

-Through the course of the night, just about every girl in the bar came up and talked to me or my friends. As a result of all this attention, lots of the guys at the bar who didn't know any of us hated on us. It was pretty funny. One guy in particular tried to act all hard by pushing Serena out of the way so he could get to the bar to get a drink. I fucked with him bad, "Are you mad because you're a nobody? I'd hate on me too if I were you. It's gotta suck to see someone like me getting all the attention that you want."

-One of my personal favorite memories is the interview Kim did with me. She pulled me aside and peppered me with questions for 20 minutes. As I am my own witness, I have no memory of anything I said into that camera. I could have claimed to be sexually attracted to menstruating camels--I have no idea. Neither Kim, Serena nor Paulette will tell me anything I said, though I do think I said something like, "My goal in life is to be more famous than Puck."

As we were leaving, I made Kim take a shot with me and the owner of Durkin's. I do not remember this, but it has been recounted to me by multiple independent sources:

As soon I took the shot, my eyes crossed, my knees buckled, and I broke into a dead sprint for the door. Kim grabbed her camera and followed me into the alley. I started yelling at her, telling her not film me throwing up, cursing, etc. I tried to walk away, but the vomit had other designs, and it came. In between convulsions I kept yelling at Kim, when I turned towards her just as a new wave of vomit came out, sloshing my stomach contents all over her sweater.

No shit--I threw up on an MTV producer. On film.

I finished up in the alley to see Zach Albarron standing in the middle of Halsted and Diversey, a major Chicago intersection, with his shirt off, swinging it above his head, traffic at a stand still, horns blazing. I found this to be a great idea, so I joined him.

We came back to the front of Durkins, a taxi pulled up, some guy got out, Zach screamed a name, pushed the guy onto the hood of the taxi and started dry humping him so hard the taxi was bouncing up and down like Dre was hitting switches. When he stopped, the guy nervously composed himself, readjusted his glasses, and ran off down the street. I was confused:

Tucker "Dude, did you know that guy?"
Zach "NO!"
Tucker "YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

I was unaware of it, but around this time Kim told JoJo that she wanted to get a shot of me walking down the street alone to close the show. JoJo, being a friend, had my best interests in mind, so he got a bunch of girls in the bar to agree to leave the bar and get into a cab with me.

I was an impediment to this plan. Every girl he and TheCousin would bring was, to me, completely unsatisfactory, "This fucking hooker? I wouldn't let her give me money to suck my dick. GET OUT OF MY FACE YOU WHORE!"

Eventually they gave up and 5 or 6 of us left together. I was the first into the cab, opened the door, and fell flat onto the backseat and passed out. WhatHeSay woke me up, and by that time Kim had maneuvered around to the passenger side of the cab to get a shot of me driving off. I rolled down the window as the cab pulled away and yelled at her:

"CAN I FUCK YOUR TITS?"

Except for them filming us at breakfast the next morning, this is where the MTV footage stops. But the night did not stop there. I took my crew to Weiner Circle. (Any true Chicagoan knows what's coming.)

Weiner Circle is a Chicago landmark. A late night hot dog stand, it is run by an all black, mostly female staff. Around 2am, the drunks start piling in for Char-dogs and fries, and Chicago drunks are abusive drunks, but at this place the abuse is not only accepted it is almost expected. I prepped my crew, and we stormed in like the Brown Shirts:

Tucker: "NOW LISTEN UP YOU STANK ASS HO'S--GET ME A FUCKING CHAR DOG, DON'T GET YOUR RANCID CUNT JUICE ON IT, PUT SOME FUCKING ONIONS AND FUCKING MUSTAND ON THAT SHIT, AND GET IT QUICK, YOU COCK-SMOKING BITCH! I WILL NOT HESITATE TO THROW A BITCH IN THE TRUNK!
Counter Girl: "OH HELL NO! HELL--MOTHERFUCKING--NO! YOU THE UGLIEST WHITE BOY I EVER SEEN, HOW YO GONNA TALK SHIT TO ME?"
TheCousin: "I WILL HORSEFUCK YOU BITCH! GET MY FUCKING FOOD!"
CounterGirl: "YOU UGLY ASS MOTHERFUCKER, I BEAT YO ASS!! I BEAT YO ASS!!"
Tucker [I start on a guy behind the counter] "HEY EVERYONE LOOK! IT'S LEBRON JAMES! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU? WHY ARE YOU FLIPPING BURGER?? YOU WERE THE FUTURE OF YOUR PEOPLE!"
CounterGuy: "Man...fuck you."
TheCousin: "Fuck you? FUCK YOU? Well that's great, what an amazing comeback. You're LeBron James and the best you can come up with is 'fuck you?' YOU'RE PATHETIC. I bet you're the type of guy who complains when the speculum is cold."
Tucker [to the girl]: Hey bitch, I want a chocolate shake too. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!"

The counter girl then came out from behind the counter and showed us her tits. Really.

Once we got our food (they make your order as you exchange insults), we took it outside and ate on these benches out front. I walked out side with my food to this scene:

JoJo was standing on top of one of the benches, with his penis sticking out of his pants, yelling at the top of his lungs, "SOMEBODY WANTS TO SUCK MY DICK! SOMEBODY NEEDS TO SUCK THIS DICK!" He later followed two Korean girls down the street yelling at them about sucking his dick.

These hot girls were behind us in line, and once they had their food came out to talk to us. One of the girls was upset about something, and we inquired:

Girl "I'm so upset. Someone tried to slap us."
JoJo "No. Did he? Who did it?
Tucker "WHO? SHOW ME WHO IT WAS, I'LL KICK THEIR FUCKING ASS."
JoJo "I'd slap your ass."
WhatHeSay "I want to fuck you with this pickle."
The Cousin "HE SHOULD HAVE SMACKED YOU, I' SMACK YOU TOO. I'D SMACK THE FUCKING TASTE OUT OF YOUR MOUTH, YOU UGLY FIEND. LOOK AT YOURSELF. I CAN SEE THE SCARS FROM WHERE YOUR MOM WAS POKING YOU WITH THE HANGER. YOU ARE DISGUSTING. SUCK OUR DICKS OR GET OUT--JUST DO SOMETHING TO GET YOUR FACES OUT OF OUR VIEW."

I took one of the girls cheese fries and fired them up against the glass window, splattering cheese all over the place. Some of it got on my cousin's neck, and he walked around for the next hour telling everyone, "I HAVE CHEESE ON MYNECK. LOOK AT THE CHEESE ON MY NECK."

We eventually got back to my place. I booty called Serena and told her to come over, "you know we're going to fuck eventually, it might was well be tonight." As I was on the phone with her, I picked up my keys, dropped them in my shoes outside my door and tell her, "Hey babe the keys to my apartment are in my shoes, just keep trying them until one works." Not surprisingly, she never came over.

The funny thing is that I didn't get laid the entire time MTV was here (except for the booty call, which I don't count), even though almost EVERY SINGLE ONE of my friends who was out with me hooked up in one way or another. Not one girl would hook up with me on MTV. I have never got so many numbers and so few actual physical acts in a 5 day span. One girl actually said to me, "I'd love to go home with you, but I can't do it on camera. Call me when MTV leaves." Right, like I'll remember your name tomorrow. Thanks for playing.

The MTV Aftermath
I finished the above story on April 27th, 2003. My MTV special aired on May 1st, 2003 at 10pm eastern time. By 10:22pm eastern time, not only had my server crashed from the traffic, but so had THE ENTIRE HOSTING CENTER where my server was located.

My website was getting about 20,000 page views a day before the MT V special aired. Since then I've averaged about 400,000 pages views a day, even months later (though a lot of this is due to the press from The Miss Vermont Story lawsuit). My message board had about 600 members. It peaked at 14,000 right before I took it down.

I remain friends with Kim and Serena and Paulette, and have since hung out with all of them in NYC. My only problem with the actual show itself was that the story they tried to tell was not the story they left Chicago with. They tried to fit a square peg into a round hole, and make it seem like I use the website to actually find dates, when the reality is far from that, and I went on those dates for the MTV show. But overall, I thought they did a decent job editing the footage.

To answer the most asked question I get: Yes, I have a copy of the MTV special on tape, but no, I haven't posted it yet. I'll get around to it at some point. Maybe. If I feel like it.

Posted by at 12:09 AM

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