Saturday, March 11, 2017

Years ago, I thrilled the internet with tales of the hot guy who watered the plants at the temp job I had when I was 24. It was...a whirlwind. This was a time of confusion, high-waisted jeans and a plethora of innuendo using the word 'spout'.

Now, years later, my penchant for men in the service industry has not waned. No, no. If anything it has grown even larger. Is it due to nearly another decade of unsuccessful online dating apps? Or perhaps the fact I have more conversations with my paid personal trainer than any friend still on my Facebook list? Who's to say...

Loneliness. Loneliness is to say. Anxiety and Isolation also have some keen words.

Most recently, I went in hard on a young gentleman working at the service desk of a local auto mechanic shop. Now, I know what you're thinking:

"But of course! A car mechanic! It was in front of him all along!"

To be clear, that's stupid. The guy wasn't actually a mechanic, but rather a young, sensitive soul, probably just out of university, who was killing time until his songwriting career takes off. How do I know that he has music industry ambitions? WELL, when the company Christmas card came complete with all their employees' signatures on it, I found his full name, Googled the shit out of it, and came upon a Canadian Idol audition tape from 2010.

So that's pretty much where I'm at these days.

Not even a close friends pity-filled eyes when I showed her his Instagram account and his bio line said "taken" could deter me from my lust. Not actually, that was a pretty big boner killer. Also, her suggestion that I could make an electronic advance anyway was swiftly rebuffed, because here's the things with these fantasies: they stop being fun the second any sort of reality creeps in.

Writing pervy blog posts about strangers? Aww yiss. Actually talking to them in real life? Full-body hives.

And fuck that guy anyway, with his 2,000 Instagram followers, dreamy eyes, and Aryan Nation lookin' boyfriend. I have moved on to an emotionally distant burrito assembler at my local taqueria. His has the beginnings of a unibrow, a slight limp, makes possibly the most shittily-assembled burrito I have certainly ever experienced... and he's perfect.

1 comment:

Michael Park said...

I've seen some interesting.... documentaries about romantic trysts with auto mechanics...

Anyway, I use my old blog to help with fuzzy memories from years gone by... when I saw that I still had followers, I looked into them, one being Toe Bag Talbs, who also follows this blog :)

Anyway, I'm not going to get back into reading blogs; just read a few of yours and wanted to send some e-hugs. I wish we lived in the same city so we could hang out, alas, internet love will have to do for now!