I was a bit put out to hear that one commenter’s mother thinks my outlook is too jaded. Me? Jaded? I’m not jaded. Jaded is when you’re bored by dating and are no longer excited at the idea of dressing up and meeting an interesting new guy. I’m always excited when I go out. In fact, now more than ever, because now I won’t go out with anyone who doesn’t sound exci… wait, that’s not jaded. That’s just experienced.
Okay, fine. Maybe a tad. This is why we have Friday reposts. To hearken back to the carefree days of skipping down Avenue J with nothing more weighty on my mind than the length of my skirt… and the Women in Black who were measuring it.
Yes, I know. I seem to obsess about dating. That’s cuz this is a dating blog. That means I write about things related to dating and being single and so on. It’s a topical blog, and that’s how topical goes. In real life I hardly ever talk about dating. Can’t seem to keep my friends from talking about it to me (as if I’m interested, guys! Well, just the bad date stories. Those I collect), but for the record, I’m not the one who brings it up.
Yeah really. Once Apple was picked out from a threesome of bloggers as the most likely Bad4 because she spent an entire afternoon complaining about crummy dates. I was just sitting there and taking mental notes. Thanks girlfriend! I got, like, three posts out of that afternoon. And complete anonymity.
Not that I’m perfectly contented. (And who is? That would stymie progress.) In my perfect life, I’d be engaged about now. But who ever lives their perfect life? In all the big things, I mean. Somehow the little things are always peaches and cream. But there have been times when I was very frustrated because life didn’t work out how I’d hoped and I was positive things would be – well, not rotten, but fairly mediocre. Of course they weren’t. In fact, every time, in retrospect, the way things actually worked out was infinitely better than how I’d planned them.
In fact, after a whole series of such occurrences I promised myself that I’d never plan again; I’d just go with the flow. That lasted about – oh – three and a half years. I’ve been really good about it, honest. But every now and then you hit an important crossroads when you just want to know. And I don’t.
So, does uncertainty stink? Yes. Am I depressed, obsessive, and miserable? Um, no.
If you don’t know me, you’ll have to trust me on this one. (If you do, be honest: am I?)