Sunday, October 7, 2007

2007 is shaping up to be a drought year

Trying to find a date is about as fun and performing my own dental work. It hurts like hell, I have no idea what I'm doing, and the results are going to be horrible, painful, and last a lifetime.

It doesn't help that I'm surrounded by people who think that I must have no trouble in this department. Friends, family, co-workers and always expressing interest in my love life and making cute little comments regarding the fact that I must have no trouble in this area. This bothers me deeply because, um, what are they seeing that I'm not? Am I blind to the bevy of non serial killer men just swooning to spend time with me? Am I missing subtle hints dropped by nonexistent men that I've never seen begging to feed me lobster and tell me I look pretty? WHAT AM I MISSING?

The folks who have twenty or thirty years on me are especially bothersome in such that they are convinced that I spend my weekends stringing along dozens of love struck men who live for my every word. Never mind that these people have all been divorced AT LEAST once, if not FIVE TIMES (I am not kidding, seriously) so I am in awe of their misplaced optimism. I can't find a freaking girl to meet for coffee much less a guy to meet up for a movie.

I'm cute, sure, but I'm not turning heads. If I am it is only the thrice divorced men who were born before my mom, and even then I'm a sucker for a guy in a sweater vest with grey hair so I wouldn't turn them down. It doesn't make a difference, though, because I'm not getting any bites. I would step up my lure but I'm tired of the idea that, on top of having a career, degree, spotless home, booming social life, interesting hobbies and a great car I have to be super duper hottie with boobs up to here, makeup that never comes off and an ass to bounce quarters off of. I recently read a quote somewhere to this effect; that in the seventies you had to be cute, in this decade you have to be cute, ready for sex any time, never have a period, love giving head and be a corporate dynamo. To this I say fuck you. I also say, lose the beer gut and clean out your damn car fatty. I'm cute as hell. We're all fucking cute as hell and you are a waste of oxygen.

Even the people who know me best somehow believe that I'm out trolling for hotties wearing a "heartbreaker" T-shirt all night long. What is this? Are people trying to live vicariously through me? Or anyone under forty? Do they not understand that the highlight of my weekend is getting laundry done and that my life is more pathetic and dry than stale wheat toast?

And if they do insist that I'm such a dating fiend why the hell aren't they offering to set me up with anyone? The hell?


chollyson said...

I'm sorry, I have absolutely no advice to offer in this arena. All I know is if you can't find a guy worth dating? Then I AM seriously fucked.

sallyacious said...

You. Must. Read. Bridget Jones' Diary. Immediately.

Then report back.

HollowSquirrel said...

Good points. All reasons why I love you -- just say fuck you to the 'rules.'