Saturday, December 21, 2013

Dullness, Dating, And Drama

I'm feeling a little boxed in these days.

As a single, fifty-two year old guy, much of my time is spent feeling lonely. Don't get me wrong. I like coming home to a quiet apartment after battling my way through stores, traffic, and the drive through at the local Gutbuster Burger. Better yet, because I live alone I can sit in my used leather recliner and eat that burger in my shorts -and no one will be offended as I continue gobbling away while Joe Friday, stony-faced detective par excellence, interrogates the same actor who was a good guy in yesterday's episode.

Ah, but doing those same things, while not being scolded for doing them, elicits a sigh of loneliness as I go to work on the medium-sized fries purchased some nine minutes earlier. It sinks in, as is sometimes the case: no one is here to scold me.

It's usually about this time that I head to the back room of this magnificent spread, and peruse one of the major dating sites.

Without exception this always leads to mixed emotions. "BettyBabydoll" is looking for "Mr. Perfect", citing his need to look like a lumberjack with the face of Brad Pitt and "love to travel", which makes me wonder if ten thousand dollars is enough money to make the director of guest services happy for five days as we go on a cruise around the seas of Norway. As I shared with a friend who's in the same boat as me (so to speak) regarding single women, the words "must be financially secure" elicited from potential girlfriends sends chills down our spines. Betty appears to be concerned mainly about herself, which provides me an opportunity to slip away and take a gander at some of the other introductions sent to me.

One such intro comes from a news camera operator hailing from a small TV station in Charleston. "TattoosForLife", who clearly lives up to her name with so many flowers etched into her skin that her skin will surely wilt at first frost, informs me that I should get back to her if I want to "take a walk on the wild side sometime". At our age that probably means strolling past someone's unmowed lawn next summer. Were it not for the cartoons covering her biceps, I might have taken her up on it.

The lady who made me question my sanity was someone who's probably very sweet, and who meant well. "Is your name Duracell?", asks FondueFun, "because I bet you can last and last." I had never achieved empathy for women enduring pickup lines until I read hers. It's nice to be perceived as attractive, but that lady is more forward than the prow of the USS Eisenhower. I closed my eyes and imagined what a day with her would be like. "Hi! You must be "writesandlaughs. Why are you rubbing your leg, for Heaven's sake? Is the bear trap too tight?" This from a woman who says she doesn't like games. In my imagination, any woman who lures a man with a hot pizza isn't just playing games. She's playing them dirty.

No one is perfect. I've had a few criticisms and questions from ladies who look at my photo and ask why I look so angry and/or scary. Figuring that I'll probably never hear from them again, I often reply that right when the picture was being taken that the finance company was in the process of repossessing an artificial leg and that I was worried because I drive a car  equipped with a five speed transmission. Not a nice response, I admit, but a prank is a prank and I was born with a weird sense of humor.

In all, hearing from these ladies makes me feel a bit more appreciated, even if only for a moment. It reminds me that someone out there thinks I'm a little less hideous than Helen Thomas on a bad hair day.

It also reminds me that I'm a flawed person like everyone else. Heck, my picture is proof enough of that. Hollywood hasn't been calling lately.

Maybe they subscribe to the same dating network.