Regular readers will know that this is the 4th draft of one blog post and the proceeding three have been deleted. In the others I have sounded either pissy, or whiney and depressed: that really is not me at this point in time. I used to be, but I am manically happy right now compared to the lowest point in my depression this time last year. What I really strive to do as a memoirist is to portray emotion without sounding like a deranged arsehole from a Jeff Buckley song. Sometimes that is a hard balance.
The past few weeks have been an interesting experience. This ‘dating’ business is hard shit, especially when people fuck you around mentally (and not in the best sense of the phrase) and communication gets difficult. This is when my inexperience in emotional conversations really shines through. I can’t comprehend people who don’t say what they mean, and mean what they say. Accordingly a four week detour that I took led to a dead end. For a time I was angry, pissy, and miserable because what I now call a ‘detour’ really did mean something at the time. Now I have had to turn around, go back and find my path again.
The whole point of this ‘dating’ process is that I’m sick of life passing me by, doing nothing and having lots of regrets about it. In truth I should have started this process ten years ago, meeting new people, getting butterflies, learning what does and doesn’t work, getting electrical charges when that HOT girl touches me for the first time. At 28, I am having the slightly irrational feelings that I’ll be too old for this very soon, so I have to work double time to catch up on the experiences I should have had. Friends have said ‘You don’t need a relationship to be happy’. This of course is true. Rather the case is ‘I WANT a relationship so I can be my version of happy’. In this regard I answer to no one but me, even if others disagree with me.
Unfortunately, due to my particular brand of determination to find this strain of happiness, I’ve had to return to reading inane online dating profiles. The computer reliably informs me that I have viewed 204 in just under 72 hours. Half of them say ‘My family and friends mean the world to me.’ to which I reply ‘If you’re so fulfilled socially, then why are you here?’ A quarter of those are dumb arses that say they are trying online dating to ‘meat’ people. I wonder if they have a particular fetish for butchers? Most of all though, a great majority fail to grab me with the necessary wit, charisma and intelligence to capture my imagination and my loins: except six.
At this point who knows if any of these six will be anywhere near decent. I hope so. I’d like to be entirely satisfied with myself for more than four weeks at a time.