Dating is essentially forking over money to find out whether or not somebody is right for you. It's an expensive lottery ticket.
And the odds are worse.
I like going on dates though. The hard part is finding someone to go on them with. I'm to the point now where I feel that if I have a shred of a connection with someone I have to pursue it. It's a fossil dig. I found a bone chip. Let's bring out the crew and look for the skeleton. If someone's attractive enough, not completely stupid, and has more than one thing in common with me -- at least two -- then I'm good. I'll put up with the rest. Nevermind that I feel I can do better, that I deserve better; I'm not going to find it. And I refuse to look for it. I will not be one of those must-have-a-mate people. I don't even want a girlfriend. Just someone to smile with every now and then.
Sometimes I look in the mirror until my face doesn't feel like it's mine. Ever done that? Where you just stare until you can't believe this assembly of flesh and bone is you. It's like repeating a word until it sounds weird. It doesn't feel right. But it's the truth. Sometimes I do that and I wonder what's wrong with me. I see all these guys with pretty girls, girls I would settle for in a heartbeat, and I don't see how they came to be. I try to figure out their backstories. How they met. How he won her over. Status and money are usually a factor. Brains and personality are usually not. Looks? They only matter if the guy is exceptionally good-looking or exceptionally not.
This town has no soul but it has a price.
Still, some connections are authentic -- as rare as they are. These are the people I envy. I miss what it feels like to have a hand-hold mean something. To stare up at a ceiling and talk about nothing. To kiss just to kiss without sex as the goal. All the stuff that makes you swirl like Soft Serv. The stuff you can never fully articulate, like someone just asked you to define a word you only know how to use.
That stuff.
It's funny. As warm as it is out here, I have never felt more cold.
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A foul-mouthed, foul-brained aspiring screenwriter lives, copes, and complains.
10 comments:
It's becuase you're in LA Jeffy; the plastic girls out there know not what you're worth.
dude... I feel you there.
You'll find someone man. Just stop looking...
I don't want to sound like a pervert, but you have never blogged about anal sex... Tell us some experiences you've had... :=)
This was my drunken, depressed post. I'm not looking for anyone, actually. I just want to be found.
As far as anal goes, I had my first experience a few months ago. It got kind of messy...
What can I say? I was puckered with anticipation.
Even if you're rubberless?
Nop, still have to hit that brown spot... nothing else gets me off.
ew.
Anal is the prefered method in France.
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