so i’m on this stupid dating website, right? every six weeks or so, i rewrite my profile, mostly because i’m a bored perfectionist. i fork over the funds each year, and nothing ever really comes of it, and that’s probably my fault, but i’m starting to think that it’s more that dating websites are redonkulus (kind of like that word… only i like the word… it’s kind of fun to say). sometimes i write just enough. you have to have two hundred characters, and so once it was:
I work for a weekly community newspaper as a reporter and editorial assistant, writing about upcoming events in the area and raising awareness for organizations that and individuals who do great deeds.
(side note: why do i always type individuals like invididuals? EVERY time.)
i can’t remember how it was before what’s to follow, but it wasn’t that up there.
i don’t get a lot of reaction from guys on this site. that could be because i’m forty-three. it could be because i’ve never been married (because, hey, never walking down the aisle with someone is so much worse than having done so and then broken the vows you’d made). it could be that i don’t have kids and don’t want any. whatever.
it could be that i have trouble saying what it is i want.
it could be because they’re douchebags. :]
in the month of february, i got one email. i got frustrated and so i wrote this:
Can we talk for a minute? I keep rewriting this thing because I’m not saying it right. All my life I’ve tried to be what people wanted me to be — the laid-back, go-with-the-flow, happy-go-lucky gal. I’m not that person. I’m a writer. My job is to figure out where the flow is going and what’s getting it there. I’m not meant to stand on some stage, reading the lines. I’m the one in the corner booth of some pub, writing the script, and I’m damned good at what I do.
Trouble is when you’re sitting in a corner booth in some pub with paper and a pen or a laptop and your only company’s the character(s) you’ve created, when you’re not the laid-back, go-with-the-flow, happy-go-lucky gal, when you’re inherently shy, it’s hard to get people to see you. My eyes are small and dark, and they’re usually scrutinizing the surroundings because observing things is what writers do. I’m so much more content to sit back and watch the camaraderie going on around me than I would be were I to engage in it. I’m not the life of the party, but then I don’t want to be. That’s not my role. I’m supposed to tell the story about the party, and I can’t do that if I’m in it. My smile is amazing, but I don’t share it with everyone. Yes, I’m serious, but I also possess a surprising wit. I am gifted when it comes to writing dialogue, but I’m shit when it comes to talking to men I find attractive. So that’s why I’m here.
I’m a hopeless romantic. I love love. I love reading and writing about it. I love thinking someday I’ll get to know about it. Because that’s the thing… I’ve never had a love story. Once, I met a guy on St. Patrick’s Day, and I was sure that was gonna be it — that was my story. It wasn’t. So I gave up and settled for more casual affairs. I tried to write a simpler, less exciting tale for myself, but that one’s ended more tragically than any other, save one. So now, I’m more hopeless than romantic, and that’s not at all what I want.
I have no game, but then, I don’t want to. I’m not some chess piece, and neither are you. I’m not looking for some man to put a ring on my finger — I don’t even like diamonds. Having said that, I don’t want just any guy. I want a relationship with some semblance of substance. I’m not looking to hook up with someone just to have someone around for nocturnal lighting purposes. I am brilliant — I can light the night perfectly fine by myself. But… my heart is heavy, and I am weary. I don’t need you to take the weight. I can carry it. But I would love it if you would walk with me.
i published it and took a shower. and when i got out, i saw that i’d gotten four emails from three different guys — one of the emails was a comment on a photo about how my smile is amazing.
that was a month ago. i wish i could tell you i’m still talking to the three, but alas i am not. i can tell you i did go on my first date in a year. with a guy who was five foot four and thrice divorced — a former pentecostal and seventh day adventist with four biological children and six step-children. he cut our date short because he had to go meet a “friend”. whatever.