Oh how I would like to say that nothing interesting happened. I’m undergoing an interesting phenomenon that I will call Cheech syndrome. As Cheech Marin would say, “Why is it all the beasts remember me?”
I am being purused online, not in a stalkery way, I don’t take stupid chances. I’m just being pursued by pushy and possibly stupid people. I haven’t gone on any actual dates since I told that guy I thought I was dead inside. I have been stood up more times than I care to think about. I’m about to be done with the whole business.
Today a guy who has emailed me before on the fishy site, but I haven’t gotten back to, but am not in the tiniest bit attracted to, sent me a message saying, “I think you are afraid to talk to me.” I let that one go for a while, but then I went and sat in traffic when I went to go get bananas, and was looking to vent my road rage. I replied, “Not afraid, just busy .” I got a “prove it.” I then let loose with a litany of the weird crap that is my life and concluded it with, “and I don’t like being pushed around.”
I don’t know. I’m kind of on the fence about dating in the first place. I am kind of bored, but going to a movie with someone you barely know because you can’t think of anything better to do is so my early 20’s. It is very disheartening to think that I am facing the same conundrum two decades later. But I’m conundering the drum in a house with a mortgage, and laundry in my own dryer watching my own Netflix on my own TV. (Actually it’s Actor Boy’s TV, but I pay for the electricity and the Netflix.) Somewhere in the house is my own cat who will come in here, stand on my sternum and nuzzle my face while she breathes cat food breath on me.
That’s still better than the movie I saw twenty years ago.