I’m Other.
October 24, 2008
Anyone who really knows me is aware of the magnanimous amount of sexual frustration that dwells within me. I’m a nineteen years old and I’ve yet to even kiss someone on the lips. Add to that the current conundrum over whether I’m bisexual or not, and it makes my romantic life (or lack there of) a day at the park. But for this post, I’m not going to dive into that subject.
Instead, I’ll jump straight into a growing habit of mine: Meeting online people in real life!
I’ve always been involved in online forums and also started lurking dating/personal sites in the past two years. It’s pretty bad to say, but at this point I could give less of a shit what comes after meeting the person. Nine times out of ten, I’m either bored or disgusted by the other person. The only reason why I still go on them is purely for self-gratification. Why wouldn’t you want to spend time with someone whose sole reason for being there is that he or she is completely interested in you? That practically is the perk of being in a relationship, outside of sex and that cozy feeling called love.
Now I know what you’re thinking. “Other, why are you being such a frigid asshole? Aren’t you just fucking with the feelings of the guys that meet up with you?” Well no. As of so far, no guy that I’ve broken ties with has cried his eyes out over the issue. Plus, I’ve BEEN on that side already. There is someone I love very dearly, and I poured my devotion out for him. In the end, he placated me and hung out with me until I moved away and then snipped the lines of communication. He had no romantic interest in me, but it’s easy to give in to the confidence booster of having someone around that is enamored by your existence (for at least a certain while).
There’s also the fact that every single guy that I’ve met has lied in one way or more about himself. Number one crime? Sending fake pictures. It’s pretty fucking bad when the first thing you think of when meeting someone is, “His nose was COMPLETELY different in that picture… You can’t even grow older by a few years and get that nose.” And for some reason, some people think that multiple pics = factuality. I can go on Google and grab four pictures of Helena Bonham Carter, but it doesn’t make me her. Don’t think that I’ll believe them just because I don’t know the person in the photo.
Outside of gaining attention like presents on Christmas, there’s also the fact that online dating is something that most people wouldn’t expect me to do. I tend to play most things safe: no drugs, hardly any alcohol and I don’t just go jumping on dicks in order to prevent STDs. My background is from a low income family, so I literally can’t afford to get involved with that kind of shit or it’s most likely “Game Over” for my wishful future. It also helps (or hurts) that I have a conscience like the little fucking devil on my shoulder forgot to punch in for duty. So to bring this back around, embarking on these random dates is like controllable danger. The people I meet could be fucked six ways past Sunday, but I’ll never have to see them again if all goes well.
Well this certainly was longer than I planned. Tomorrow I’m meeting my next lucky contestant. I’m already pretty sure he failed the picture test, but perhaps he’ll be the first to set my heartstrings on fire. ( I doubt it.)
