20 July 2006

the "perfect" man

I'm finding myself comparing every man I meet to one. One who's high up on the pedestal and for no reason at all. See this isn't really the perfect man sitting high upon the untouchable throne. It's actually a complete jackass of a man, at least in reality, but the one I had envisioned, well he's sort of spectacular. I decide d to embrace the twenty-first century dating scene and signed up on Match.com. After a week of searching online men, he emailed me. Perhaps it was the lengthy emails or the originality that yanked me in, completely head over heels. I was floating on cloud nine before I had even seen the guy in flesh. If I hadn't known better, I would swear that someone was finding him all the perfect things to say. Not just general sentiments that would persuade any girl of his greatness but particulars that match me to a tee. I would like to say that it was just my imagination running away with well written sentences and beautiful ideas and contorting them into my own fantasy but I don't believe. On paper, he was perfect.
Upon mentioning my favorite song that I would one day like sung to me, he looked up the lyrics should the occasion call for it. Which was one detail among many. Had he been the person I envisioned, the person I thought he was, he would have been perfect. We finally met in person and had what I considered to be a phenomenal four hour date. Then again, maybe I was still in my fantasy.
Turns out he wasn't quite who I thought he was. Regardless of the abrupt ending, him inquiring as to my future plans only to never include himself in any of them, he still remains on that pedestal. Maybe, just maybe that's not really him up there but a mixture of him and the man I thought he was. My fantasy man.

05 July 2006

tangoing with desperation

It's official, I'm desperate. Everywhere I look there are couples, couples, and, oh yes, even more beautifully together, hip-joined, hand-holding, happy couples. And then, there's lumpy old, well not so old, me. Standing on the sidelines waiting to be asked to join the game, me.
It's the 4th of July. A day of celebration and festivities. Festivities that are always a bit bittersweet when you have no one to share them with. Even more excruciatingly painful when you watch all the beautiful couples parading in front of you living their happily ever after or at least in your head you're envisioning their absolutely perfect life together while you come home to an empty apartment every night. An apartment null and void of even so much as a cat. The holiday curse of single life. Every holiday serving as an even bigger reminder that you are still single.
I realize I'm extremely bitter about this but it's not without reason. Or at least justified reasoning according to me. I've tried every method I can possibly think of to find someone to at least make it to date two with but with no avail. Internet dating services: been there, done that. Failed. Although I did reactivate my profile on one this evening after my pity party I threw for myself after being forced to watch all the happy couples parading in front of me. Friends setting me up. Done it, failed again. Bars, clubs, grocery store, retail store, movies, or any other public establishment you can think of. Again, done it and no luck. The whole dog thing. Yeah tried that as well. Nada. I'm dating challenged. The whole losing weight thing hasn't been working either. I keep thinking that maybe if I lose some weight the men will magically appear out of the woodworks. Who knows, perhaps they will if I ever become the size of a stick.
I am assured quite regularly that I am pretty, intelligent, funny, and blah, blah, blah and yet nothing. Apparently only my friends and family can see all these things but for just any regular average joe I must look like Medusa or have a huge sign on my forehead that says "fuck off." Who knows I can't figure it out. I just know I hate holidays when I am single.
I started watching "Must Love Dogs" and realized that I will be Diane Lane. No actually, I am her minus the actual offer for dates. Maybe I should just start investing in cats early. I can be the 24 year old cat lady. Now that might be a record.