I remember beck in High School, when I first started becoming interested in flirting with and dating people, it was esy for me. So natural, it was like breathing. I could have had anyone I wanted. Even if they were older or younger, even if they were in a relationship, or engaged, or even married, I could attract them. At first I didn’t pay attention to pre-existing relationships; I only cared about my relationship with the person, not the relationships they use to be having with other people. (Here ‘used to be’ refers to the time period right up until I decide I want them.)
Here’s an interesting thought: based on the best information I have, 100% of the people I asked to marry me were dating someone else without my knowledge at the time that I asked them. Oh, and all three said yes immediately. Of course I’m not married yet, but I mostly blame myself for that.
So, somewhere along the line I began doing my best to pay attention to whether or not people I was interested in were single, and if I found out they were in a relationship or I saw a wedding ring, I just didn’t show any interest at all. This is out of increased respect for relationships, not just my own, but other people’s as well. I recognize how rare and precious a good relationship is, and how much harder and harder they are to come by, and I do what I can to encourage healthy relationships to continue. The only problems this has caused is when I thought someone was in a relationship who was not, or when I didn’t find out when they were single again, and they assumed I wasn’t interested because I never showed interest.
Except that in light of my experiences in the last several months (years, Teel, it’s been years!), I believe that flirting with and expressing interest in people in relationships is probably the safest thing I can do. These days I can’t get the most desperate of people to even make eye contact with me. I can’t pick people up any more than I can fly without happy thoughts. I have given out dozens of cards with my email address and phone number in recent weeks/months to people I thought might be interested in at least speaking to me again, and have received a sum total of zero phone calls and emails as a result. I recently updated my match.com profile, added a photo, and started getting ten times as many people reading my full profile, and even got a couple of preliminary emails. Of course, when I responded, giving them links to my websites and a friendly response, I got nothing back. It goes on and on, and let me see if I can get to my point:
As long as I absolutley can’t attract another human being to want to spend time with me, I am better off only flirting with people already in committed relationships or marriages. This way at least I don’t expect anything to come of it. There’s no let down when they go home with the person they arrived with; that outcome is expected. At best I can expect a lively and interesting conversation with someone I don’t have to worry about calling me.
A married friend of mine told me recently that when he and his wife and I go out together, it’s like a double-date. That somehow I’m as good as or and fun as or … well, that I compare to any two normal people together. It’s a good thing. I guess. I sort of would rather actually go on a double date than our own little variation of one. Still, it’s just more of the same idea I’m talking about. I should just stick to pre-existing couples.
…
Something about being a well-rounded enough person that I’m entirely half of a double date doesn’t sit right with me. I suppose that’s just my biological imperitive telling me I can’t pass on my genes on my own.
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Tonight I went out with Zoe and Amy. We went to Dennys for dinner/dessert and then to Game Depot to play games. Zome and Amy were getting tired a little after 9, so we left there, and I was starting to feel a little tired, too. Except that on the way to my house, I looked out the window and saw a young woman looking back at me. She was made eye contact, so I smiled, and she smiled back to me, and that little positive feedback loop of a sort of connction got into me. Their car pulled ahead, ours caught up enough that I could see that she had turned her head around to see me, and I smiled bigger, and so did she and that positive feedback loop just got stronger. Except that neither she nor I had control of the vehicles we were in, so her car pulled away into the distance and I never saw her again.
That little incident. That little smile. That positive feedback loop, someone who saw me and sincerely smiled at me, seemed as interested in me as I was in her. That got my hopes up and put a little extra energy into my weary body. I got home and I changed clothes and freshened up and I walked down to Mill to see if I could find another positive feedback loop to get caught in. To see if I could find someone else who would smile back. As always, out of a habit that has never become neccessary, but that I just can’t shake, I straightened up my place so that in the event that I brought someone home with me I wouldn’t be embarrassed by what they saw.
Anyway, I went down to Mill, and it was dead. Hardly anyone even walking down the street. Until I got to fifth, and I realized there was a footbal game letting out. Thousands of non-locals were taking up parking spaces and hardly giving Mill a second look. I stopped in the Fascinations where I can usually hang out for hours having good conversations with the staff and enjoy some of the best music on Mill, but the people I normally talk to were either out or busy in the back. I didn’t want to drink or pay a big cover, so I went next door to see what Level was like. They don’t charge a cover if you’re over 21 on Saturdays, but they let people in as young as 16. I got my “over-21-bracelet” and went in. The music wasn’t what I’d choose to try to dance to, so that was troublesome, but worse was the fact that I couldn’t tell if dancing next to or with anyone there was grounds for my arrest. Sure, some people are just short and thin, but … I have trouble dancing to a lot of todays music unless I focus on the other people dacing around me, really by dancing with whoever happens to be next to me, and … I just couldn’t do it there. I tried going to the 21-only section, but there were just a dozen or so people in little clusters sitting still at the bar or on couches, drinking quietly with their friends. No fun there. I tried the dancefloor again for a while, but trying to dance without towering over the crowd started to make my knees hurt so I went outside again. I tried smiling at or being friendly with passers-by, but the best response was a sort-of sympathetic half-smile from someone who probably saw the desperation I could feel burning through the backs of my eyes. When I left home, when I got to Mill, I was confident and assured, still feeling the effects of that young womans smile across traffic. By the time I left Mill, I felt defeated and alone, worthless except as a friend to those already in committed relationships.
You often write on the subject of love. Bob and I are quite curious about the subject. This evening, I stated that if a survey was taken, I would venture a guess that 99 3/4 % of the people would say that they do not get loved enough. With spouses, family and parents, we would have to come to the conclusion that with what they had to work with, background, history, genetics and other factors, the spouses, family and parents gave all of the love that they were capable of giving under the circumstances in the only ways that they knew how. Therefore loved ones should be forgiven for their offenses and loved in spite of it. Living with loved ones is very difficult. It involves forgiveness daily for offenses that the other party is not even aware of. It relies on the decision that you are going to continue to love someone and make it work or not. Love is a decision.
You often write on the subject of love. Bob and I are quite curious about the subject. This evening, I stated that if a survey was taken, I would venture a guess that 99 3/4 % of the people would say that they do not get loved enough. With spouses, family and parents, we would have to come to the conclusion that with what they had to work with, background, history, genetics and other factors, the spouses, family and parents gave all of the love that they were capable of giving under the circumstances in the only ways that they knew how. Therefore loved ones should be forgiven for their offenses and loved in spite of it. Living with loved ones is very difficult. It involves forgiveness daily for offenses that the other party is not even aware of. It relies on the decision that you are going to continue to love someone and make it work or not. Love is a decision.
You often write on the subject of love. Bob and I are quite curious about the subject. This evening, I stated that if a survey was taken, I would venture a guess that 99 3/4 % of the people would say that they do not get loved enough. With spouses, family and parents, we would have to come to the conclusion that with what they had to work with, background, history, genetics and other factors, the spouses, family and parents gave all of the love that they were capable of giving under the circumstances in the only ways that they knew how. Therefore loved ones should be forgiven for their offenses and loved in spite of it. Living with loved ones is very difficult. It involves forgiveness daily for offenses that the other party is not even aware of. It relies on the decision that you are going to continue to love someone and make it work or not. Love is a decision.
You often write on the subject of love. Bob and I are quite curious about the subject. This evening, I stated that if a survey was taken, I would venture a guess that 99 3/4 % of the people would say that they do not get loved enough. With spouses, family and parents, we would have to come to the conclusion that with what they had to work with, background, history, genetics and other factors, the spouses, family and parents gave all of the love that they were capable of giving under the circumstances in the only ways that they knew how. Therefore loved ones should be forgiven for their offenses and loved in spite of it. Living with loved ones is very difficult. It involves forgiveness daily for offenses that the other party is not even aware of. It relies on the decision that you are going to continue to love someone and make it work or not. Love is a decision.
Except I wasn’t writing about love here. Didn’t even mention love. Talked about flirting. Talked about other people’s relationships. Talked about dancing in a room filled with teenagers. Didn’t mention love.
I certainly didn’t mention loved ones, or not getting enough love from them. Or potential unforgiven offenses they may have made. Or living with .. well, anyone. Because I don’t live with anyone. I live alone.
Maybe someday soon I’ll post about love, but … this wasn’t it. Again, your comment shows that you were unable to comprehend what I posted.
Except I wasn’t writing about love here. Didn’t even mention love. Talked about flirting. Talked about other people’s relationships. Talked about dancing in a room filled with teenagers. Didn’t mention love.
I certainly didn’t mention loved ones, or not getting enough love from them. Or potential unforgiven offenses they may have made. Or living with .. well, anyone. Because I don’t live with anyone. I live alone.
Maybe someday soon I’ll post about love, but … this wasn’t it. Again, your comment shows that you were unable to comprehend what I posted.
Except I wasn’t writing about love here. Didn’t even mention love. Talked about flirting. Talked about other people’s relationships. Talked about dancing in a room filled with teenagers. Didn’t mention love.
I certainly didn’t mention loved ones, or not getting enough love from them. Or potential unforgiven offenses they may have made. Or living with .. well, anyone. Because I don’t live with anyone. I live alone.
Maybe someday soon I’ll post about love, but … this wasn’t it. Again, your comment shows that you were unable to comprehend what I posted.
It is okay Teel. What is a relationship? What is it based on. What is the history of a relationship? Where does the idea come from? What makes you think that you want one?
What is it that you are really seeking? Do you think that I really do not have a clue as to what you are trying with all those words to say? I am not offended with your words. I feel that my job is to encourage people in the right direction. Just like you, I think that I am smarter than the average bear, or in your case monkey. I cannot be mashed down so easily. I am secure in my intelligence. I have years of experience on you. I really get where you are coming from. It may surprise you to know that you did not invent the problems that you present and are not the first to experience them. I love you Teel. I want the best for you. I so wish that generations could learn from each other to save the inevitable pain, but I realize that we all must go our own path until we individually get it. I respect your need to be who you are and what you are. I am in no way trying to put you down. We have more in common than you imagine or wish. I am sure you will deny all of the above. I would if I were you. And no, I have not walked in your sandals, and I do not know all of your life. Genetics shares much more than hair and eye color. Walk on and be strong. Do not let people make up your mind. You will be fine and make very good decisions.
It is okay Teel. What is a relationship? What is it based on. What is the history of a relationship? Where does the idea come from? What makes you think that you want one?
What is it that you are really seeking? Do you think that I really do not have a clue as to what you are trying with all those words to say? I am not offended with your words. I feel that my job is to encourage people in the right direction. Just like you, I think that I am smarter than the average bear, or in your case monkey. I cannot be mashed down so easily. I am secure in my intelligence. I have years of experience on you. I really get where you are coming from. It may surprise you to know that you did not invent the problems that you present and are not the first to experience them. I love you Teel. I want the best for you. I so wish that generations could learn from each other to save the inevitable pain, but I realize that we all must go our own path until we individually get it. I respect your need to be who you are and what you are. I am in no way trying to put you down. We have more in common than you imagine or wish. I am sure you will deny all of the above. I would if I were you. And no, I have not walked in your sandals, and I do not know all of your life. Genetics shares much more than hair and eye color. Walk on and be strong. Do not let people make up your mind. You will be fine and make very good decisions.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?! You don’t make any fucking sense. You rarely even get close to the ballpark of the idea you are responding to, and have yet to make a coherent response here. Smarter than the average bear? You must know some pretty fucking retarded bears, Patti.
At first it was a little funny when you commented on something and it made no sense or had no relation to anything in the post you were commenting on, or both. Then you kept doing it, and it started to get annoying, but now you’re just pissing me off, probably because you seem to believe that your responses are encouraging or helpful in some way, which they are not. People I know bring you up by way of mentioning how completely fucking insane all your comments are here, after which we have a little laugh about you. Before right now, I don’t believe anyone here was really trying to offend you, but out of pity.
Here’s something you may be misunderstanding about the purpose of the whole fuck yourself to hell dot com experience: It isn’t really about me trying to get advice and encouragement, and it certainly isn’t supposed to be a forum for you to babble about your relationship with Bob. If you want to do that, go get your own blog. This is my blog. It’s here for me to babble. It’s primarily here as a journal, where I write about what’s going on and affecting me in my life, about the things that interest and concern me, where I don’t particularly seek any more response than one would expect if writing into a diary. That you are allowed to see it is the only difference from a diary. All the people who never called me after I gave them my card, all my old friends, most of my family, and some of my family’s old friends, read this site and get a little taste of what is going on with me without ever having to call or communicate with me directly.
I do allow comments here, but with the idea that there would be some sort of logical connection that normal people could follow between what I wrote and what the comment says. You simply do not seem to understand this. Perhaps you think you do, but you are not making it clear when you post. Next time you think about posting, how about you try to first explain how your fucked-up mind got from what I wrote to what you want to write about, and THEN write whatever incoherent babble you were going to post. Maybe then it will start to make sense.
Probably not.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?! You don’t make any fucking sense. You rarely even get close to the ballpark of the idea you are responding to, and have yet to make a coherent response here. Smarter than the average bear? You must know some pretty fucking retarded bears, Patti.
At first it was a little funny when you commented on something and it made no sense or had no relation to anything in the post you were commenting on, or both. Then you kept doing it, and it started to get annoying, but now you’re just pissing me off, probably because you seem to believe that your responses are encouraging or helpful in some way, which they are not. People I know bring you up by way of mentioning how completely fucking insane all your comments are here, after which we have a little laugh about you. Before right now, I don’t believe anyone here was really trying to offend you, but out of pity.
Here’s something you may be misunderstanding about the purpose of the whole fuck yourself to hell dot com experience: It isn’t really about me trying to get advice and encouragement, and it certainly isn’t supposed to be a forum for you to babble about your relationship with Bob. If you want to do that, go get your own blog. This is my blog. It’s here for me to babble. It’s primarily here as a journal, where I write about what’s going on and affecting me in my life, about the things that interest and concern me, where I don’t particularly seek any more response than one would expect if writing into a diary. That you are allowed to see it is the only difference from a diary. All the people who never called me after I gave them my card, all my old friends, most of my family, and some of my family’s old friends, read this site and get a little taste of what is going on with me without ever having to call or communicate with me directly.
I do allow comments here, but with the idea that there would be some sort of logical connection that normal people could follow between what I wrote and what the comment says. You simply do not seem to understand this. Perhaps you think you do, but you are not making it clear when you post. Next time you think about posting, how about you try to first explain how your fucked-up mind got from what I wrote to what you want to write about, and THEN write whatever incoherent babble you were going to post. Maybe then it will start to make sense.
Probably not.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?! You don’t make any fucking sense. You rarely even get close to the ballpark of the idea you are responding to, and have yet to make a coherent response here. Smarter than the average bear? You must know some pretty fucking retarded bears, Patti.
At first it was a little funny when you commented on something and it made no sense or had no relation to anything in the post you were commenting on, or both. Then you kept doing it, and it started to get annoying, but now you’re just pissing me off, probably because you seem to believe that your responses are encouraging or helpful in some way, which they are not. People I know bring you up by way of mentioning how completely fucking insane all your comments are here, after which we have a little laugh about you. Before right now, I don’t believe anyone here was really trying to offend you, but out of pity.
Here’s something you may be misunderstanding about the purpose of the whole fuck yourself to hell dot com experience: It isn’t really about me trying to get advice and encouragement, and it certainly isn’t supposed to be a forum for you to babble about your relationship with Bob. If you want to do that, go get your own blog. This is my blog. It’s here for me to babble. It’s primarily here as a journal, where I write about what’s going on and affecting me in my life, about the things that interest and concern me, where I don’t particularly seek any more response than one would expect if writing into a diary. That you are allowed to see it is the only difference from a diary. All the people who never called me after I gave them my card, all my old friends, most of my family, and some of my family’s old friends, read this site and get a little taste of what is going on with me without ever having to call or communicate with me directly.
I do allow comments here, but with the idea that there would be some sort of logical connection that normal people could follow between what I wrote and what the comment says. You simply do not seem to understand this. Perhaps you think you do, but you are not making it clear when you post. Next time you think about posting, how about you try to first explain how your fucked-up mind got from what I wrote to what you want to write about, and THEN write whatever incoherent babble you were going to post. Maybe then it will start to make sense.
Probably not.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?! You don’t make any fucking sense. You rarely even get close to the ballpark of the idea you are responding to, and have yet to make a coherent response here. Smarter than the average bear? You must know some pretty fucking retarded bears, Patti.
At first it was a little funny when you commented on something and it made no sense or had no relation to anything in the post you were commenting on, or both. Then you kept doing it, and it started to get annoying, but now you’re just pissing me off, probably because you seem to believe that your responses are encouraging or helpful in some way, which they are not. People I know bring you up by way of mentioning how completely fucking insane all your comments are here, after which we have a little laugh about you. Before right now, I don’t believe anyone here was really trying to offend you, but out of pity.
Here’s something you may be misunderstanding about the purpose of the whole fuck yourself to hell dot com experience: It isn’t really about me trying to get advice and encouragement, and it certainly isn’t supposed to be a forum for you to babble about your relationship with Bob. If you want to do that, go get your own blog. This is my blog. It’s here for me to babble. It’s primarily here as a journal, where I write about what’s going on and affecting me in my life, about the things that interest and concern me, where I don’t particularly seek any more response than one would expect if writing into a diary. That you are allowed to see it is the only difference from a diary. All the people who never called me after I gave them my card, all my old friends, most of my family, and some of my family’s old friends, read this site and get a little taste of what is going on with me without ever having to call or communicate with me directly.
I do allow comments here, but with the idea that there would be some sort of logical connection that normal people could follow between what I wrote and what the comment says. You simply do not seem to understand this. Perhaps you think you do, but you are not making it clear when you post. Next time you think about posting, how about you try to first explain how your fucked-up mind got from what I wrote to what you want to write about, and THEN write whatever incoherent babble you were going to post. Maybe then it will start to make sense.
Probably not.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?! You don’t make any fucking sense. You rarely even get close to the ballpark of the idea you are responding to, and have yet to make a coherent response here. Smarter than the average bear? You must know some pretty fucking retarded bears, Patti.
At first it was a little funny when you commented on something and it made no sense or had no relation to anything in the post you were commenting on, or both. Then you kept doing it, and it started to get annoying, but now you’re just pissing me off, probably because you seem to believe that your responses are encouraging or helpful in some way, which they are not. People I know bring you up by way of mentioning how completely fucking insane all your comments are here, after which we have a little laugh about you. Before right now, I don’t believe anyone here was really trying to offend you, but out of pity.
Here’s something you may be misunderstanding about the purpose of the whole fuck yourself to hell dot com experience: It isn’t really about me trying to get advice and encouragement, and it certainly isn’t supposed to be a forum for you to babble about your relationship with Bob. If you want to do that, go get your own blog. This is my blog. It’s here for me to babble. It’s primarily here as a journal, where I write about what’s going on and affecting me in my life, about the things that interest and concern me, where I don’t particularly seek any more response than one would expect if writing into a diary. That you are allowed to see it is the only difference from a diary. All the people who never called me after I gave them my card, all my old friends, most of my family, and some of my family’s old friends, read this site and get a little taste of what is going on with me without ever having to call or communicate with me directly.
I do allow comments here, but with the idea that there would be some sort of logical connection that normal people could follow between what I wrote and what the comment says. You simply do not seem to understand this. Perhaps you think you do, but you are not making it clear when you post. Next time you think about posting, how about you try to first explain how your fucked-up mind got from what I wrote to what you want to write about, and THEN write whatever incoherent babble you were going to post. Maybe then it will start to make sense.
Probably not.
Hoorrraaaay Teel.
Hoorrraaaay Teel.
Hoorrraaaay Teel.
Hoorrraaaay Teel.
Everyone wants what they haven’t got OR what they can never have. I think the problem with it being harder to attract someone comes down to your own self-confidence and atttitude about relationships in general. Probably after experiencing what all of women experience, which is: a cheating, lurking snake in the grass with a floppy jullopy between the legs ready to swing it in anywhere it fumbles in, has had an adverse affect on all of our prudent, girlish charm that we first experience after the hormones kick in, the fuzz starts growing and the breakouts start popping. They have us believe that they would never do it—cheat. From a woman’s perspective, RELATIONSHIPS ARE like EATING SHIT AND CONVINCING YOURSELF IT IS FILET MIGNON. or maybe CROSS-EYED DEAF DUMB ORDEAD
Everyone wants what they haven’t got OR what they can never have. I think the problem with it being harder to attract someone comes down to your own self-confidence and atttitude about relationships in general. Probably after experiencing what all of women experience, which is: a cheating, lurking snake in the grass with a floppy jullopy between the legs ready to swing it in anywhere it fumbles in, has had an adverse affect on all of our prudent, girlish charm that we first experience after the hormones kick in, the fuzz starts growing and the breakouts start popping. They have us believe that they would never do it—cheat. From a woman’s perspective, RELATIONSHIPS ARE like EATING SHIT AND CONVINCING YOURSELF IT IS FILET MIGNON. or maybe CROSS-EYED DEAF DUMB ORDEAD
Everyone wants what they haven’t got OR what they can never have. I think the problem with it being harder to attract someone comes down to your own self-confidence and atttitude about relationships in general. Probably after experiencing what all of women experience, which is: a cheating, lurking snake in the grass with a floppy jullopy between the legs ready to swing it in anywhere it fumbles in, has had an adverse affect on all of our prudent, girlish charm that we first experience after the hormones kick in, the fuzz starts growing and the breakouts start popping. They have us believe that they would never do it—cheat. From a woman’s perspective, RELATIONSHIPS ARE like EATING SHIT AND CONVINCING YOURSELF IT IS FILET MIGNON. or maybe CROSS-EYED DEAF DUMB ORDEAD