So here’s the problem.
Once again I find myself sans boyfriend or dates. Okay, it’s not as if this hasn’t been a given in the last few years but it’s really getting to me now. Hell if I know why.
I’ve given the heave-ho to the few of the boy-toy/dinner dates over the past year or so. What’s the point?
There was no future in any of them. Hell there was no present. Try discussing Mahler, Hawking or Bukowski with a snow-boarding-hey-dude guy who’s idea of art is the new label cover on a bottle of $10.00 wine.
At least they looked good. Of course so do I. With the lights off or my corset cinched tightly, then the lights dimmed.
So let’s say, just for a left-field example, that you were a late forty-something, eccentric, neurotic, darkly witty, moderately talented, exceptionally brilliant woman? Carrying around 20 pounds extra on her frame. Oh, and you don’t like meeting guys in bars, your weekly outing consists of wrapping yourself up in a parka and a pair of skis to hit the slopes, or going to freaking Costco?
The roomie says ‘Oh Rach guys still hit on you.’ Yes they do! They’re
b)on day pass from the Helen Keller Institute
c)Northern Nevada Mental Health and Retard Services clients
Here’s the bottom line: I’m about ready to try…. Craigslist.
Don’t say it. I know. I’ve tried it before. Hell, it’s more than a crap shoot. It’s more like Russian roulette. With a fixed table. And misshapen balls. But those are more balls than I’ve seen in a helluva long time.
Jimmy the Greek wouldn’t front me $5.00. That was before he was dead.
People my age are married, or divorced and married again. And divorced. Wait. So was I. Forget that. The point is that it’s a bitch to find so much as a date, nevermind a steady relationship. I can go out to a bar tonight and get laid but fuck that, pardon the pun. I’m getting too old for that crap. Not the fucking, the one night stands. Hell, I’m tired of being alone. Two of my marriages sucked but hopefully I’ve learned something. If not, at least I can check out those balls.