Monday, September 24, 2007

This entry is the opposite of my penis: long and funny.

I have met a lot of people off the internet.

What an icky sentence.

But it's true.

Now, without going into the whole defense of 'it's better than the bar scene" and all my self-appeasing justifications, let me just say that it is not something I have ever regretted. Well, actually, that one time I got slipped a rufie wasn't so hot, but you know, that happens far more frequently at bars, thereby illustrating my point and forcing me to recrown myself as King of Logic World.

When describing these interactions to others, I will frequently break down my net meetings in the following manner. Of the people you talk to:

70% - not worth anything other than 5 lines of polite, terse response before blocking them
20% - appear to have potential until about the 5 minute mark when it becomes obvious that they have already blown their conversational load.
5% - are worth meeting, but you soon find out that a) it's no longer 1998 and they fudged their picture, b) they're nice but dull or c) they work with your mom
3% - are funny, kinda hot, perhaps even seem like they might be into you, but neither of you are that into each other to hang out more than once or twice, which inevitably leads to between a week and 6 months of very short, awkward, obligation conversations over msn.
2% - are amazing. Of those 0.00000000000000001% will phone you back.

No wonder I'm single. And thank fucking god.

All of the above has really just been a prologue to this:

Yesterday I was talking with a fellow who falls into the 3% category. Funny, really good looking, all that lovely stuff. We hung out once in February. I wasn't on my A game, partially do to the fact that when I find myself in the presence of someone that falls in that top five percent, it's just such a shock that I generally need a couple dates to really come to terms with the hot, funny guy smiling at me. Since February, we've chatted occasionally over msn, sometimes talking about getting together, but with no real intention (at least on my part) to really try and make it happen. Then, this week saw a huge tear in the social fabric of my net meeting dogma as the little bugger appeared to want a mulligan, which is absolutely unprecedented. The last time there was a second coming of this magnitude, a religion was born. We began to discuss in earnest a wine-drinking evening at my place. Then this dialogue (bear in mind, much of it is affectionate sarcasm):

Him: When I come over, could I use your computer? My ­­­­­­________ (some gadgetty-thingy-thing) isn't being read by computer and it's being a bitch.

Me: Perhaps your computer doesn't recognize gadgetty-thing-things belonging to people with fewer than three sexual partners.

Him: Haha. David, you're [hilarious. I love you.]

Me: I had the same problem, so one night I went out and banged 17 guys in one shot.

Him: Wow, you just went from a 9 to a 6.

Me: ...

Him: ...

Me: I was a 9?

It was all very funny and cutesy and incredibly flustering and I start to panic a little bit. Like, "Uh, haha, you're really great and all, but clearly you have me confused, because if you keep being all adorable, I really won't know what to do with you." Cause I really won't. I am so used to the idea of everyone having something terminally wrong with them, that my flight instinct has totally kicked in. I really, really don't want to hang out with this guy. I mean, I do. Oh god, I do. But no. It's like how before an audition you think, "Qu'est-ce que fuck am I doing here? Christ on a bike, I wish I were in the Caymans." Or something like that.

At first I thought this was just me being all emo-faggy about relationships (see: last six months of the previous incarnation of this blog), but recently it has evolved into something different. Essentially, all of my female (and a good many of my male) friends are in relationships and let me tell you on thing, kids: they suck. Not the relationships; the people. (Especially people that are engaged. "This is my fiancée!" "This is my barf bag.") And not just them, but people in relationships in general are just shitty and pretty questionable human beings a lot of the time too (Pretend that isn't a gross exaggeration). They stop calling or returning messages, they incorrectly assume they're other half is welcome anywhere, and to top it off, all other interests in their life are promptly dropped and replaced by their one and only.

Example: A conversation - the first in a month - I was having with one of my 'closest' friends two nights ago:

'C'F: I'm sorry I've been such a shitty friend, I've just been so busy with and I haven't had time for, like, anyone.
Me: That's cool, I know you're busy (and I'm totally willing to just wait around for your calls).

5 minutes into the same conversation:

'C'F: You should be SO proud of me: I'm seeing ­ for the first time in so long.
Me: Aw, really?
'C'F: Yeah, I haven't seen [them] since, like, yesterday afternoon.
Me: ...

Do we see the problem, people? Does this not seem a might inamicable, or is this simply the skewed view point of a citizen of Singletown who couldn't possibly imagine what y'all are feeling? These are genuine questions. My relationship-minded readers, I implore you to tell me, am I asking too much by asking the same of you that I did before, or is it that y'all are just too busy with that good thing you've found to care?

So this is why I am so icked out (that's right. I know big boy words) by the mere notion of being in a couple. It just makes people so stupid and I'd really rather not be. Or maybe I would and I just don't know it. However, I will say this: when the day comes - providence willing - that I do actually find myself playing double dutch and I start to ignore my friends, make poor life choices and just generally induce nausea, you have my total and utter permission to make the necessary arrangements to have me taken out back and severely beaten. That is, if I return your call.

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