I am not a broken felt tip pen…

I recently joined the ranks of the unwashed, well, single people. It’s similar I think.

Anyways, my dad’s friend Bobby, (who is my dad’s age, they grew up together etc), asked me how I was doing?, who I was dating? etc, ie, nobody.  He proceeded to give me advice. I didn’t ask for any advice, he just gave it. His advice ended with a statement in earnest; “Just wet the tip”.  I could not have been more uncomfortable had you stuck a syringe in my ass. What kind of advice is that?  I know what he’s getting at, and I don’t like it. I’m not about to go “out there” and “get what I can get”. I don’t want to. I chose to chuckle nervously and say something stupid like “I’d rather not”, but he reiterated his “wisdom”.

This unfortunately comes from the same generation of men who believe that you can never *really* enjoy your job. You just have to find one that doesn’t make you want to kill yourself and wait for the gold watch at 50. I disagree. I disagree so wholeheartedly that it i justifies a blog post.

I still, perhaps foolishly, believe that I will meet someone who I can make as happy as they make me and that I’ll be able to stay on that winning streak until I’m old and decrepit. And I wont need to run around playing fast and loose in order to find them. There, I said it, I’m a relational optimist.

As for now, I’m still quite busy getting my life back online. It’s a process. I’ll see you when I’ve finished booting up.



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