My Romantic Weekend.

Friday night the Chinese lady finally gave me her phone number. She's been spooking me out for awhile now, but honestly, her English is so bad I've never been sure quite what her motivations were, or exactly how to communicate that I was not interested if they were not pure. She slipped a piece of paper across the counter and said something. After asking her to repeat it a few times, I figured out it was "when would be a convenient time for lunch or a dinner?"

Had to let the hammer down. Which was a shame. She's probably a nice lady if I could figure out what she was saying.

Got home to an e-mail letting me know my plans for Saturday had fallen through. Something about a sister being in town or something. Part of me couldn't help but wonder if "sister in town" is derived from some sort of ancient Latin phrase that means "got a better offer." The message did say I was fabulous though, and I can't help but  notice how every rejection of late usually comes tied with a compliment. Fabulous was a new one. Usually I'm nice or sweet or something. I'm going to shoot some random bastard for no other reason than I'll never have to hear how nice and sweet I am ever again.

About a quarter after midnight the phone rang. It was my last girlfriend. Having made a few calls myself this time of night to ex's, I knew it was best left unanswered.

Saturday I looked at the facebook page of the woman I would choose to spend the weekend with. I don't know why, because I don't get a choice. She did say I was nice though, and now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure the word "fabulous" was in there at some point as well.

Maybe they think I'm gay.

A wink rolled in from my match.com account from a woman who looks like a truck driver, complete with foam cap. I said thanks but no thanks. I'm sure she was very nice though.

I spent a 45-minute phone conversation trying to get 2 words out of someone. I chatted on line with an old e-friend who said she missed me. She's 3,000 miles away. I asked someone out in the real world and got shot down while being told I was a nice man.

I woke up around 2 in the afternoon on Sunday and the silence in my condo was suffocating. This is what you sign up for when you jump in the dating pool my friends. You take a leap into that thing and you will spend your time doing very little other than taking punches to the face while simultaneously hurting the feelings of people who have done you no wrong. Neither of which I find particularly enjoyable. It's brutal. There's a couple of teeth on the floor here and I have no idea if they're mine or someone's I just knocked out.

And you know what your reward is? The big payoff if you do happen to make it through that booby-trapped minefield with a fake map in your hands without somehow getting your damn legs blown off and your heart ground up in a shredder? Evenings with your significant other arguing over where the thermostat should be set. Long nights staring out the window wondering what you could have made of your life if you weren't bogged down with a spouse and a couple of kids. Eye rolls and heavy sighs and a constant struggle for power that makes the backroom deals in your state legislature look positively quaint. Don't lie to me married people. I was once one of you, and I know exactly how happy you are.

Oh, and in those few cases where it does work out? You can look forward to a devastating widowhood.

Life is a setup for failure. I'm going to go throw up now. Just to show myself I have some control over something.
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My Romantic Weekend.
My Romantic Weekend.
Reviewed by malaria
Published :
Rating : 4.5