Romance Tracker recently grabbed my attention with their list of three simple ways you can use your blog to get a date:

Hey, being addicted to blogging is a lot like being in love, which we’ve covered on Romance Tracker before. But regardless of how great a relationship you have with your blog, it will never hold your hand or snuggle with you at night . . . and while you could try kissing your computer screen if you want, we sure don’t recommend it.

NOW you tell me? *sigh*

Anyway, the three suggestions were 1) using the blog to meet other people interested in my niche, 2) improving my communication skills by interacting with my readers, and 3) monetizing my blog so I could buy the lovely dinner.

I actually made enough now to accomplish #3… assuming we go to McDonalds that is… but what’s ironic about this whole thing is that when I first started blogging, I did it almost solely for the purpose of finding the girl of my dreams. I had hoped that by writing in the quirky manner that I did, it would draw attention to myself, and maybe one day soon some hot Christian girl would stumble across my site after doing a Google search, post a comment, and 3 months later we would be in love and planning a wedding in Bora Bora.

What I’ve learned however in those sad, pitiful days, was that such magic only happened to other people. Cuz you know what? One day a hot, Christian girl DID come across my site after doing a Google search, and just like I hoped, she began commenting and regularly following my blog too.

So what happens? She meets the man of her dreams through HER blog, and the two get married and run off to live happily ever after.

I’m not bitter about it though. Being the strong, brave man that I am, I was able to easily recover and move on from that heart wrenching devastation… especially after I started spreading rumors around the web saying her husband was gay and was secretly having an affair with a Latin lover named Juan San Pablo. After seeing that marriage subsequently go down in flames, I finally started to feel better about myself again.

This second go around is proving to be a more daunting task for me though. For one, I still don’t know what my niche really is or should be, and two, all the readers on my blog seem to be either male or married. Really, why would I want to interact with you people? Get the @#$% off my blog and find me some girls for crying out loud. I mean if you’re gonna stick around, then make yourself useful for pete’s sake.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Last night I had the strangest dream…

For some reason I was on a journey, traveling up this road where I was eventually joined by my brother. We were passing by this ranch that was having a festival, kids running around, riding ponies, everyone having a good time, and this song was playing from somewhere, a song I recognized from years ago:

“Don’t wanna lose to loneliness…
Girl I know we can win!
Don’t want to lose to emptiness, oh no…
Never again!

Don’t wanna lose you now…
Baby, I know we can win this!
Don’t wanna lose you now…
No no, or ever again!”

Yep, Backstreet Boys. Y’all can stop snickering now. Truth is though, I hadn’t heard this song in over 7 years, so it’s a bit weird (to say the least) that it would come up in a dream now. I can’t remember the last time I’ve ever dreamt about an actual song too, especially one I’ve since completely forgotten about.

Tell me, what does that mean?

Ahhh, Friday has arrived at last, giving me a little time to reflect on the failure that is my life.

I couldn’t help but notice how the entire world and God Himself blew me off this week. I got blown off by my boss when I begged him for help in working new hours so I could go to law school. I got blown off by my union rep in trying to resolve some of the ongoing issues at work, from the mouse droppings on my desk to the bigwigs’ initial refusal to accommodate my disability. I got blown off by personnel, who I inquired of for a transfer so I could get the *bleep* out of here. I got blown off by Uptown Girl, who strung me along for weeks before finally ignoring me altogether. I got blown off by friends, by family members, and finally God Himself, who I’ve appealed to repeatedly with many tears and pleas for answers and relief from my troubles.

And now, once again, it’s Friday night and I’m here all alone, with only the wedding photo of a girl I had a crush on here at work to keep me company. Evidently someone thought it’d be nice to leave a copy of our department newsletter on my desk, turned precisely to the page that showed a caption and photo of her recent wedding. Thanks dude! assface…

My latest failures, the problems at work, the loss of yet another career dream, the loss of my latest romantic prospective, all finally took its toll on me last night. As I went through my normal work routine, I suddenly broke down and started sobbing. A wave of depression came over me like a dark fog, draining all my energy and strength. I just wanted to sleep and never wake up again. A day later, the depression is still lingering around (and probably will for a while).

It’s times like this when I start to wonder if my parents can still collect life insurance from me if I commit suicide. But for the time being, I decided instead to enjoy tonight’s lineup of Stargate and House, and go to hell with myself by ordering pizza. With extra toppings. And a chicken roll. And some cheese fires. And baked ziti.

Yep, I’m going full on Italian tonight. To heck with you all.

While I was out getting my ride cleaned up at the nearby self car wash, I noticed a couple behind me in an obnoxiously large pickup truck. The guy got out to get some change, so I glanced over to get a look at him. Fuzzy faced, sports cap on tight, shorts down to his kneecaps, and keys with a neckband so long it dragged across the ground as he approached the change machine. I couldn’t get a good look at the girl riding shotgun, but I could tell she was cute.

Normally, seeing a scum sucking scuzzbucket (apparently emulating Eminem or some other pasty white rapper wanna-be loser) like that with a girl would get me upset, but then I stepped back and took a deeper look here.

What was I getting upset about really? Because he had a girl, and I didn’t? But was it because no girl could ever want me, or was it simply because I had standards? Truthfully, I could go out right now and grab up some back alley ho that I could wrap my arm around and show off to all my friends if I really wanted to. But I wanted something better. I wasn’t content to have some two bit slut with the morals of a brain damaged monkey on crack in my life, just to prove that I could get a girl. I was looking for much more than that.

What’s really sad though is that even though I think my standards are reasonable enough, 80 percent of the single female population probably don’t measure up. Under ideal standards, 99.99 percent wouldn’t measure up, while the other .01 percent appear to live only in our dreams. Women today seem to vary from being skanks, whores, sluts, tramps, bimbolinas, etc., to being hellish female dogs spawned by Satan himself. Those who are godly, intelligent, kind and honest are an endangered species bordering on extinction, and even if I happen to come across one of them during my travels through life, there is usually some factor that would prevent me from pursuing them (like being married, for one). This is what our world has sadly has come to these days, and it is in this mess that I must somehow find the true girl of my dreams.

Yet as much as it would pain me to be alone, I recognize just how much MORE painful it would be to date a girl so obviously wrong for me, that to be with her would paradoxically make me feel even MORE alone and lost in the world.

It would seem impossible that I would ever meet anyone right for me, and yet despite the insurmountable odds I face here, I still have hope that she’s out there somewhere, a sweet and wonderful angel who is waiting and praying for me to come into her life soon. Call it delusion, insanity, or psychosis induced by food deprivation, but no matter what, this hope never seems to die. And for now, that will have to do as I fight to get my life in order again.

Lies, betrayal, and deceit at long last put the final nail in the coffin of my law school dreams.

Well I wanted an answer, and after 18 months I finally got it in spades. When it happened, my anger once again reared its ugly head as I began to shake my fist at God for all the grief He’s allowed me to endure, but afterwards I began to resign myself to my fate. In a way I’m glad it’s over. While I may be destined to drift through life with no sense of purpose or meaning, I was at least relieved of the trauma 3-4 years of law school would almost certainly have brought me.

But after taking communion and reflecting on the events of the past week, I was directed to read Psalms 73 and Psalms 92, verses that talk about God taking vengeance on our enemies. So maybe this isn’t quite over just yet.

In any event, I wonder why I had to enter my thirties still without any clue as to what career might best suit me. I grew up falling in love with the notion of solving mysteries and clearing cases, and because of it I always thought law enforcement was where I belonged. For whatever reason I loved the idea of justice, of being the guy who could help put right where people did wrong. The shows I watched and the books I read all fed my passion of uncovering hidden truths, exposing lies, solving crimes, and of course, catching the bad guys.

I started college with my heart set on what I thought was the right profession. I had dreams, aspirations, and eagerly looked forward to a promising future in the career of my choosing. I saw myself being well established in the profession by the time I turned 30, married to the love of my life, and perhaps even a father to several wonderful children.

Instead, graduation from college would see me become unemployed for almost 2 years, then evicted illegally onto the streets, and finally trapped in a dead end job as a no name clerk. At 30 years of age, I had accomplished nothing. I was a failure. I was nothing more than a vagabond with a job, a helpless prey to my enemies.

It was evident that only God could salvage the mess that I had made of my life. And it is what I hope for, in spite of all the fist shaking.