Thursday, June 11, 2009

oh, the interwebs we weave.

i originally wrote this business what, a year ago? right after i stopped sleeping with a dude i met on fucking myspace. i know i know i know i know. ew. but what's almost comical to think about as i reread this post is that i'm right back at square one! bemoaning all of the time wasted on some douchebag or another. i tried the internet, and i met a very nice dude with whom things fell apart without very much explanation. and i met quite a few other dudes for whom "children" and "stay at home mom" were top priority. fucking eharmony and its twenty-nine points of compatibility. THOSE were my best matches, dr. neil? really?! then i got helen keller, who is a lovely, albeit bitey and sickly, distraction. then i tried to fuck my friend (i mean, i succeeded and it was totally sexy but mostly weird and that is always the worst of the worst of the WORST mistake), and it was really fun until that whole compatible in other ways shit came up. in other words, who in this day and age is still pro-life? to hell with that noise. i've been back in school for a while, and my local community college has yet to yield anything promising; though i should probably give it a few semesters. i told lori i was going to re-grow my virginity, and i still plan to. so enjoy this old bullshit and welcome to my nightmare.

i am totally embracing this turning thirty thing. maybe it's because i still have a year and a half to go, but i'd like to think it's because i'm anxious to be older and wiser. no one ever tells you a goddamned thing about your twenties. and while i understand that that's what these years are for, blindly stumbling around your life hoping not to bump into any emotional traumas that are too sharp, i'm over it. i'm over not knowing, or sort of knowing, or thinking i know but realizing (usually with some sort of loud, painful thud) that i really don't know anything. so i've taken to saying "i'm almost thirty!" when exasperated by one thing or another and can't think of any other reason i shouldn't be dealing with whatever bullshit is going on at the time.

my current "i'm too old for this" dilemma involves how to date, hang with, rub up on, get to know, like, fuck, or converse with (in a meaningful way, of course) any other human-type person in this new age of the internets. i currently ain't got no mans, and that's cool with me. had a few, they've all been lame. i have a television and computer and shelves full of books, so having to entertain myself isn't the biggest challenge i'll ever face. but sometimes i want to go out to dinner with someone who doesn't have a vagina and might actually pick up the tab and maybe want to drag me back to his cave to inspect my merchandise.

but where does one find such a creature? i'm all sorts of awesome, but i've yet to meet someone equally so who wants to sweep me off my feet. fuck that, even. i'd settle for a brain cell or two and a couple jokes. meeting dudes in bars is crazy, because most of the time they think they can fuck you right away and bail. and while sometimes that is true, "i'm almost fucking thirty." i can't be doing that retarded shit anymore and, gasp! dare i say it?, i think i'm at a point where i'd actually like to have (insert ominous drumroll, please) a...i'm gonna say it, i really am!, A RELATIONSHIP. it's a dirty word, i know. but somebody had to say it.

the internet is fucking balls, too, because it's just so fucking easy to lie. i suppose if i gussied myself up and cranked out a profanity-free, non-asshole interweb persona and slapped it on some christian site i might find a decent little nugget, but then i'd be the liar. and if i'm being totally honest, i'd be the FUCKING liar, because that's how this bitch really talks. i know some successful matchharmonydate couples, and bravo to them, dude. it's pretty simple to craft an online depiction of yourself, and send a hot piece of ass a perfectly crafted, funny, well-written little introductory piece. what about when they're all up in your face? with no cliffs notes and no cyrano?

if i knew what streets to walk down to find hilarious, intelligent dudes who think i'm a fox i'd wear out the soles of my new balances charming the pants off all of them before clubbing them over the head and kidnapping them. you know what's funny? when i was younger i totally had a picture in my mind of what HE would look like; i think it was a combination of every hot dude i'd ever seen with a handful of jokes and a decent music collection. after ten years of this treacherous bullshit as long as his limbs are intact and most of his teeth still live in his head we're cool. i know women who have requirements ranging from what a dude has to look like and the shit he has to wear to wear he works and what he drives. i could give a shit, man. aren't we over that yet? WE'RE ALMOST FUCKING THIRTY.

i obviously have to start some sort of grassroots campaign. post fliers and paper every neighborhood. i have a friend who is the set-up queen, and although she's been my homie forever, she's never applied her talents to the betterment of my sex life. what a selfish asshole. once, when we were fucking wasted, i asked her why i couldn't get in on this matchmaker bounty. and she was all, "because sam, you're so fucking awesome! i didn't think you needed (hiccup) my help! you're so smart and beautiful!" and while she's not wrong (i mean, come ON, i'm totally amazing; drunk or no drunk), that broad should be out campaigning for me like barack. i got a 30 on my ACT, people. i wrote a book. i even have two jobs. how's that for not sucking? and if you didn't think i was goddamned hilarious you wouldn't still be reading this shit. no more short sticks for me, friends. i'm willing my karma in a different direction.

i'm still licking some tender little wounds, but as soon as i feel better and can catch a motherfucking horse i'm getting back on it. and hopefully that bitch will have sharp enough eyes to help me dodge some land mines this time. one can only hope. i'm sure dudes out there have limb requirements, too.