Wednesday, 7 January 2015

'Surely that's a maladaptation.'

It's probably not true I can't not talk about him. Maybe for once of my life I could try not dumping open my heart in front of anyone who will look at me, not emptying it like it’s a messy purse. Maybe I don’t need an audience to watch me sort through every roughly handled, occasionally useful item in my bag until I’ve figured out why I still carry it around. I have a deep fear someone who knows him would read this, or he would read this, and recognize him. It’s not that I don’t experience dread but only that I don’t alter my behavior for it. Surely that’s a maladaptation.  
Charlotte Shane, Prostitute Laundry 
Welcome to 2015 readers. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Things are going well, as I'm covering the Queensland State Election for The Conversation, other stuff not so much.

Against my better judgement I revisited the dating website. Most likely, because once again I have an unattainable crush that due to circumstances beyond my control will never be anything more. So I visited this website again, looked around for a little bit, found a profile I liked, initiated contact and we started emailing. For about 3 days we emailed regularly, but not obsessively, lovely banter. Then she disappears without warning.

A day later another woman contacted me. Like the previous girl we trade a couple of messages, then she disappears.

I'm maladapted.

Hit me over the head with a giant metal bar next time I log in to a dating website, PLEASE!

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