Today as I was comming back from work, driving like an ambulance, and singing (with hand gestures and all) Alanis’ Simple Together like a mad person, naturally I started wondering about my love life(as if I wasn’t already enough danger to all the good Christians on the street). Don’t recommend this, must I add.
Oh Dear Void... What have I unleashed!? Prepare yourself.
First of all -as you may already know- I have no love life whatsoever, and That’s apparently the main problem. You know all that BS people say ¨All the good ones are gay or already taken, and those out there are only attracted to the bad girls¨. Well, I’m beginning to believe in that crap, only because it seems to be true.
I for Christ’s sake, take an actual, real time of my day just to think about how can I become a better person or at least of new ways not to waste my time on Earth. Who! Does! That!? Seriously!.
Also, it is a general concensus around me that I am of the good ones. Some even once said I deserve the best of the best. But the (my) reality today is that I find myself thinking about assholes who pretend to see me for who I am, but they actually don’t even know my favorite color and can’t get pass my gigantic ass. And I’m not even hot!... I mean, do you see the irony in the story?
So so so many questions pop into my head as I try to point out my problem (and I say my because that’s also the general concensus, that I’m the problem, not them).
Right now I can think of two big NOs that can explain my... hmm how to call this: Situation? Unusually long momentary state? Chapter? Well, you know what I mean...
I can blame my stubborn desire to believe myself when I say that all the fiction love stories ever written simply cannot be 100% part of their authors’ imagination. Some of that magic must exist somewhere, and all those characters must be inspired on real-life people, therefore... there’s a chance for me too.
I don’t know. Maybe someone has to pull my feet back to the smelly mud-loaded ground so I can get a grip and lower my expectations.
As for the second big No, I know is a documented, real, scientifically proved fact. My daddy issues. Simply put dear Void, he is the closest as a non-religious human being can get to perfection. Yeap, you heard me well. I’m saying my dad is practically perfect. See the issue? And Please, I don’t mean this in a Oedipal kinda way, I’m just stating what -also- is the general concensus among my acquaintances. Talk about high hopes!
As always dear Void, I don’t really want an answer, just have the need to ask: Do I really must sacrify both my hunger and expectations of happiness, just for the chance to get a glance of what it feels like to be with someone? Or (there’s always the Or) do I keep breathing, counting to 10, and patiently wait for the love-story-like guy?
Now it’s time to rest. So, good night, Dear Void.
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