There comes a time in a single woman’s life when she realizes that her glorious existence of eating chocolate bars dipped in peanut butter (straight out of the jar, no less) and snuggling her multiple cats at home in front of the television isn’t quite as glorious as it once had been. Sure, she’s had her share of pain-in-the-ass boyfriends that make an evening in such as this be as appealing as an all-expenses-paid trip to Key Largo. But after a while, she…
Oh, hell. Let’s drop the false pretenses here. Anyone reading this knows I’m talking about myself.
So anyway, after a while, I start thinking to myself that maybe men aren’t all a bunch of pains-in-the-ass. Maybe–just maybe!–there is one out there that isn’t quite as big of a pain-in-the-ass as the others. Maybe somewhere there was a cute guy who could make me laugh and didn’t mind that there were nights that I sat on my couch eating chocolate bars dipped in peanut butter and cuddling my cats while watching random sportsball games. Maybe he’d like reading, going for walks, watching sportsball games, and listening to me talk about libraries and cake decorating and books and sportsball. Maybe he’d think I was cute and fun and endearing and not as big of a pain-in-the-ass as girlfriends he’d had in the past.
I mean–I can hope, right?
So I have now done what any insane, irrational woman would do in today’s modern world:
I made an online dating profile.
If you look at my profile, it would be easy to think that I put a lot of effort into it. It’s long, wordy, and filled with random commentary about whatever the hell was on my mind at the time. This is not exactly for the benefit of any available men going to read it; rather, for my own entertainment.This is because writing about myself is one of my favorite subjects. Hell, I write a blog blathering on about whatever musings I have at any given moment. And besides–I mean, considering all of the dates I have been on over the years, it’s rare I get a word in edgewise on a coffee date, anyway. It is a universal truth acknowledged among women that men–despite whatever cries of indignation may occur when they are confronted with this information–love to talk. Even moreso, a man will love to talk about himself.
So I put it all out there. Every damn little thing I could think of. I figure I’m not going to get to say any of this crap when I am out on a date, anyway. Unless I get lucky…
If I were become so fortunate, that there is a man that takes the time to read what I’ve written (and I am told it is rare), he may as well know what he is getting himself into.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been out there. I haven’t been in a relationship in nearly two years. The past is over; it is past. The mess has been cleaned; the room is pristine. Demons have been slayed, or laid to rest. I have made peace with what has happened. It is what it is.
Let’s rock and roll.