I know I promised vampires, but once again I seem to be proving myself a man not of my word.
Because I’m seriously thinking of giving up the search for love.
Not the blog, mind you; that I’ll keep (though I do have plans for relaunching under a new name at some point in the near future). Just the eponymous search.
What’s sending my thoughts in this direction is the fact that my failure to spark with the guy who liked Darth Vader was actually more than just a two-date event. We saw each other a total of four or five times before making out and discovering our lack of chemistry. (This in itself gives me pause—it wasn’t so long ago (check my “best of” section) that I’d be on my back for any number of people I’d never met, much less gone to dinner with several times.) And this fellow seemed so perfect in so many ways. In fact, I believe he’s the first person I’ve gone out with in a very long time who fulfilled all my criteria: smart, funny, cute, compassionate, stimulating, and a top. Yet in the end there was still something missing.
So what’s wrong?
I don’t know if it’s a question of the watched pot not boiling, or of my standards being too high, or of something else I can’t even conceive of. (I would write something about “the universe not wanting me to be dating somebody right now” except that descriptions of the universe as a sentient entity that actually gives a fuck about what happens to us make me retch.)
Whatever it is, I’m making a decision here and now. I’m not going to search for love anymore. If it finds me, great; if not, then I’ll . . . I’ll . . .
Well, I’ll just . . . um . . .
This may be more difficult than I expected.
