Like all single people who have seemingly given up on actually ever meeting a decent human being in a real life situation, I have been subjected to the lure of the internet. My friends are all involved or married, their friends I mostly know.
The bar scene is a thing of the past for me, a single mom who is lucky to get out once a month, if that, and also given the fact that the Cheers-esque places I go are literally where everyone knows my name.
What lurks behind my monitor, through my keyboard and across the World Wide Web is a mystery, and could be potential right? Wishful thinking at best.
About a month or so ago I joined this free pseudo "dating" site, because let's face it my dismal financial circumstances are not going to let me into the likes of the more commonly advertised varieties. I took it with a grain of salt being free to the types of people who may be using such a site, but morbid curiosity and the luck of a friend made me do it anyway.
So there I go, writing paragraph upon paragraph what it was I wanted, who I was looking for, trying to weed out the creeps with witty remarks and smart typing. Surely if I write enough about myself they'll take me serious right?
Wrong.
You add a few photos and suddenly the messages start flowing. A modern e-twist on "Hey baby, what's your sign", littered with cheesiness and horrible innuendos. “I like your ‘eyes’ and ‘smile’", when cleavage is plainly visible. Sure you do pal.
What is it about seeing a pair of breasts in a picture that turns even the most intellectual of men into a gorilla? I mean let's face it, they are fantastic, but they're not one of the 7 wonders of the world here. They are there for a purpose, for nurturing and feeding a child, not to dumbfound the entire male gender.
But I digress.
Of course among these men, there are the seemingly sincere, the "nice" guys. There are the Stage 5 Clingers, the stalkers. There are the pompous asses who think that all women should immediately bow to them as sexual slaves. Oh yes there are all kinds.
And through all of it, I find myself feeling more and more like nothing is ever going to happen. I start Remembering previous relationships, the dos the don'ts. Wondering what went wrong with them all. Had it been them? Had it been me all along?
Was I too picky? Too jaded? All trust is gone with me it seems. As soon as I see a flicker of odd behavior, I become callous and detached. I push away. I become a bitch that no one would want to talk to, make it easier for them to leave, harder for them to stay.
Maybe I want to be alone after all, or maybe I just look in all the wrong places. Most times I don't look at all. Those who often express interest in me, I have no interest in. Not that there is anything wrong with them per say, they're just usually not "it".
IT. That feeling that comes when you know a person or a situation is what you want, what is right. And try as I might I can't find it. No matter what methods of trial and error I go through. No matter how right it may look on the outside looking in, I'm left longing.
I listen intently to the lyrical creations of song, to hear soul and heart and feelings emoted in music, inspired by love, or loss of it, and I want it. Bad.
What lurks behind my monitor, through my keyboard and across the World Wide Web is a mystery, and could be potential right? Wishful thinking at best.
About a month or so ago I joined this free pseudo "dating" site, because let's face it my dismal financial circumstances are not going to let me into the likes of the more commonly advertised varieties. I took it with a grain of salt being free to the types of people who may be using such a site, but morbid curiosity and the luck of a friend made me do it anyway.
So there I go, writing paragraph upon paragraph what it was I wanted, who I was looking for, trying to weed out the creeps with witty remarks and smart typing. Surely if I write enough about myself they'll take me serious right?
Wrong.
You add a few photos and suddenly the messages start flowing. A modern e-twist on "Hey baby, what's your sign", littered with cheesiness and horrible innuendos. “I like your ‘eyes’ and ‘smile’", when cleavage is plainly visible. Sure you do pal.
What is it about seeing a pair of breasts in a picture that turns even the most intellectual of men into a gorilla? I mean let's face it, they are fantastic, but they're not one of the 7 wonders of the world here. They are there for a purpose, for nurturing and feeding a child, not to dumbfound the entire male gender.
But I digress.
Of course among these men, there are the seemingly sincere, the "nice" guys. There are the Stage 5 Clingers, the stalkers. There are the pompous asses who think that all women should immediately bow to them as sexual slaves. Oh yes there are all kinds.
And through all of it, I find myself feeling more and more like nothing is ever going to happen. I start Remembering previous relationships, the dos the don'ts. Wondering what went wrong with them all. Had it been them? Had it been me all along?
Was I too picky? Too jaded? All trust is gone with me it seems. As soon as I see a flicker of odd behavior, I become callous and detached. I push away. I become a bitch that no one would want to talk to, make it easier for them to leave, harder for them to stay.
Maybe I want to be alone after all, or maybe I just look in all the wrong places. Most times I don't look at all. Those who often express interest in me, I have no interest in. Not that there is anything wrong with them per say, they're just usually not "it".
IT. That feeling that comes when you know a person or a situation is what you want, what is right. And try as I might I can't find it. No matter what methods of trial and error I go through. No matter how right it may look on the outside looking in, I'm left longing.
I listen intently to the lyrical creations of song, to hear soul and heart and feelings emoted in music, inspired by love, or loss of it, and I want it. Bad.
I want to feel what they sing about, to feel like a subject worthy of someone's prose. To be a muse. So loved I am immortalized by radio, poetically played to someone to help them express what they feel to someone else.
Why is it so damn hard to find?
Why is it so damn hard to find?
I also like Ray La Montagne. I'm going to see him at the Wang this November when he comes to Boston.
ReplyDeleteI don't know how I stumbled upon your blog. You might have commented on the sports story I was reading on Yahoo!
Anyway, you have good taste in music so far as I can tell.
Hi - I just discovered your blog. I've read a few of your posts and can really relate to what you say, even though our circumstances may be different. I love the way you write. I havn't read all of your posts, so I don't know if you are already doing this, but you should try and write a book, maybe inspired by your own life.
ReplyDeletePS. Love your taste in music!