Tuesday, January 13, 2009

a breath of fresh air

That is what I like to think of myself as, a breath of fresh air.

It has been confirmed by the blogosphere...all the eligible men are taken, so there is no point. I actually gave a go at fulfilling one of my goals and giving a young man the f*** me eyes this past weekend. He wasn't quite a stranger as I've met him a couple times before which made it easier, and more laughable since I frankly can't take myself seriously when attempting to be seductive. Also I was with my young friend (the one who bagged the only attractive single dude on NYE), who I used to not feel, shall I say for fear of sounding conceited, threatened by per se when it came to picking up dudes, but have since learned that she is an expert at it since she mananges to pick up dudes wherever she goes whereas...I am and do not. Yeah, I know it's part of the whole mating game, and I thought maybe I could handle the potential rejection since the only loss would be the little bit of self-esteem that remains, but I'm not sure if I can even risk that. I hit my prime a couple years ago where I felt cute, charming, witty, smart, thin...I was going places! I could attract cute dudes who actually read quality literature!, but failure has pushed me past that prime and I now I feel silly (and fat and also old). I also have like to hold out hope that some handsome, young-ish, intelligent, incredibly witty lad will be charmed by my awkwardness and will think me cute enough to be attentive and it'll be one of those rare times that I feel at ease (though probably with the aid of alcohol) and I'll feel semi-confident which will result in a decent conversation during which I portray myself as being somewhat funny and maybe even a little smart and there will be no need for f*** me eyes because the sparks will be a-flyin' and our inability to stop gazing at each other lustfully will be in full force and the flirting will all be quite natural.

Yeah, right. Or god forbid it happens and then at some point down the road, out of nowhere I'm dropped like a hot potato, devastated with a newfound sense of feeling destined to be alone.

Anyways, I can barely remember being 25, hell, I can barely remember 27, although I felt a pang of nostalgia over a memory of living in the (not literally) frat house. I have a serious nostalgia problem that I don't think can be fixed, and everything is transient so I'm essentially screwed. Therapy would possibly help except I've come to the conclusion that I'm just not cut out for therapy.


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