Hot Mess: Volume 10

In, perhaps, an it-seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time moment, I reactivated my account with Match. After a few messages began to pile up in the inbox I had not paid to see, I gave the site some money.
At least 75% of my justification to myself was that I would, at least, have some new blogging material.

Message #1 was from a woman who wanted to hear about my Match experience but was “Don’t worry. Not a lesbo.”  I suspect that it was some sort of scam.

Message #2 was as follows:

While I suspected that Lex may be a bit crazy, I couldn’t resist the urge to reply.

Of course, it’s a bad idea to encourage the crazy. He replied twice within the same hour…

While I do find myself inexplicably attracted to Lex’s 2D pastel blue silhouette, I’m not sure I’m ready to admit that I’d like to tie up that pastel blue silhouette and do “kinky things” to it. I think the paper cuts would get to me before long.

If I had not already been put off by his discussion of gang banging, I would have certainly thrown off by his transition from kinky sex to “actually, I was thinking about angels.” It’s a rough transition from inappropriate early messaging etiquette to a philosophical justification of his apparent Schizophrenia and his intimate “I’m sure you understand” statements.

Sorry, Lex, my fairly open mind is a little too small for the crazed yammerings of those that hear Djinn.

While this reopening saga does not bode well for my dating, it does bode well for you, dear readers. Some fish are still in the sea because they’ve been thrown back.
Get ready. It looks like we’ll be laughing a lot together.


I need to stab someone. Where’s my stabbing knife?

I need to stab someone. Where's my stabbing knife?

I’m back.

In I’m Cashing Out: A Special Valentine’s Day edition, I informed readers that I had met someone – one of three last stabs in the dark – and, therefore, was cashing out.

After a year and moving in together, Mr. Wonderful, of the aforementioned post, loves me but isn’t IN love with me. He informed me of this, but with far more words, causing me to have experienced the third breakup followed by me having to say, “Uhhhh…did you just break up with me?”

And, really, I’m not as stabby as one might think.

Despite the inherent suckiness of the situation and the fact that we’re still somewhat awkwardly sharing an apartment for another week or so, it isn’t so bad. I am no longer interested in expending energy fighting change or trying to hang on to people who want to walk away.

I have been through this (and worse) enough to know some things.

1. This will only suck for a while.
2. There are other people I can and will love.
3. I am okay (perhaps, even better) alone.

So. Expect more posts as I return to spearfish the many other fish in the sea that I keep hearing so much about.
Wish me luck.

In other updates:

Fuck You: Chapter 2 from Re-emergency: Or fuck you, fuck you, you’re pretty cool, and fuck you re-emerged again over the past summer via text message. Due to a tragic phone/toilet bowl union, I no longer have the original text messages.
However, my only response to his original text was to send him a link to the post in which he featured. He proceeded to identify himself as Fuck You: Chapter 3 and inform me that he liked more than my hips and that he told me so. I then had to point him towards the appropriate “fuck you”.

Fuck You: Chapter 3 greeted me as a stranger when in the same room.