Last Christmas I received a lovely miniature Christmas tree to hang my decorations on, and I decided then and there that my wittle tree would also be known as the Tree of Hope:

…I thought to myself, “I will continue to take care of this tree until I meet the girl of my dreams, and perhaps even beyond.  This will be our future, special tree.”  So as long as the tree lives on, my hope lives on…

Well…

Suffice it to say, I don’t think yellow is a good color for an evergreen tree to have.  I watered it, gave it plant food, made sure it always had enough light, but the fricking thing was determined to die on me, almost like it had heard me when I declared it to be the Tree of Hope my future honey snuggles would someday hang ornaments on, so it decided to spite my ass by committing suicide.

Though it’s not like it really needed the help.  With each failed attempt to connect with the opposite gender since that time I could tell my tree was getting a little browner.  The depths of evil to which evil women go (because they’re evil) was simply too much for my wittle Tree of Hope to handle.

Eventually I decided to take it to work hoping the nuclear powered fluorescent lights over my desk would breathe some life into my poor, wittle tree.  For all I know it could have, but the air here was probably more toxic than I’d care to admit, because now it was starting to turn yellow.

Finally I gave up and planted what was left of the Tree of Hope outside in a small garden area.  After I finished planting it I threw my hands up and said, “Well Lord, I tried.  Now it’s all up to You.”

My guess is that it’ll be torn out by the maintenance crew and dumped into the trash by week’s end, which is pretty much how I think I’ll be going too when it’s my time to check out. 

Ah well.  It was nice to dream for a while. 

Ugh, I can’t sleep.

See, it used to be whenever I had trouble falling asleep I would think about how I’d meet my dream girl, exploring all the possibilities on how we’d end up together and fall in love.  Just holding on to those dreams would put my mind at enough ease that I could finally conk out and get a good night’s rest.  It was my own personal way of counting sheep, and I’d been doing it for years and years.  No matter what shape or form she took, I could always imagine her easily, beautiful and loving and caring.  My hope kept her real, helped me to believe that she was out there, and that it was only time that kept us apart, until such time finally came to an end.

But now I can’t see her anymore.

As hard as I try to imagine, my mind can’t focus enough for her to appear again, and I’m tossing and turning trying to fall asleep, wondering why it’s so hard now to even put a few thoughts together so I can dream about her for just a little while.

If there was ever a solid indication that my dream has finally died though, this would be it.  Maybe my mind is finally coming to terms with the reality that I will never, ever meet someone.  This world has become too evil, too foregone a conclusion, and I myself am just too different, too detached from humanity for it to even be possible anymore.  Maybe if I had been born 50 years ago I might have had a chance.  But not today.

My dream really is over.  I will never sleep again.

I am a square peg trying to fit into the circle that is life.

At least that’s been my feeling lately. I’ve always had an eclectic personality that precluded me from being able to fit in anywhere, whether it was a church, a social club, or any kind of informal group that shared a common interest. While it made me unique, I do think there is such a thing as being TOO unique, ya know?

Not that I minded being a loner too much, but I hated the fact that my life (with all its eccentricities) all but guaranteed that I’d never find anyone who could really understand who I was as a person. Sure, they might be able relate to one aspect, but then find another aspect of me so totally foreign to them that it scares them off. And trust me, I can be a very scary person, indeed.

There have been times when I tried to simply fake my way into a community’s good graces, but it never seems to last long. Whether it’s trying to cheer for a sports team just so I could relate to their fans (Let’s go Mets!! LET’S GOOO METS!!! LET’S GOOOOO… ah they suck), or whether it’s trying to relate to the Deaf community (where I’d be shunned simply because I’m not deaf enough), or whether it’s feigning “getting slain in the spirit” at a holy roller church so as not to draw suspicion from the congregation, there just seems to be no place on earth where I could truly feel at home.

I’m either too conservative or too liberal, too Christian or too atheist, too normal or too weird, too smothering or too distant, too emotional or too cold. Whatever it is that separates me from the rest of humanity, I either have too much of it, or not enough.

Is it ever going to be possible for me to meet a girl who could understand me through and through, or at least enough of me so that I don’t completely freak her out? Or am I really destined to walk this earth alone until death finally puts me out of my misery?

I believe I can survive without a large support group of any sort, but I don’t think I could carry on without the love of a good woman who could be both my lover and best friend. It seems sappy, but of all the agony and suffering I’ve endured in this life, this one always hurts me the most.

Oh well… there’s always castration.

I was recently asked by an evil woobie what I wanted in a woman, since I seemed to be sending mixed signals regarding the female race (bashing them to death while yearning for one at the same time). Well alllllrighty then.

I’ve split my list here to those traits I oh-so-badly want a girl to have, and those traits that are complete deal-breakers that will send me screaming and running for the hills. I think once you finish reading through the list you’ll begin to see why I’m still single.

Deal Breakers (Any one of the following will automatically result in immediate disqualification. No refunds.)

• She’s ugly.
• Really ugly.
• I mean damned gouge-my-eyes-out ugly.
• She loves to boss people around, including God Himself.
• Has a mouth like a sailor, and regularly drops f-bombs like a New Jersey mob boss. Not. Cool.
• She has tattoos and piercings in places that hasn’t even been categorized by science yet.
• She thinks nothing of wearing flip flops in subzero temperatures with a full on blizzard warning in effect.
• She is an absolute diehard fan of “reality” TV.
• Modesty is a foreign concept to her. She’d be the girl wearing the tube top at a relative’s funeral.
• She is, for lack of a better phrase, a complete moron.
• She gets her news from Glamour and Vogue magazines.
• She lives to play mind games (unfortunately this might rule out all the women on the planet.)
• She doesn’t say thank you when someone holds the door open for her.
• If the devil is the father of lies, she’s the mother of it.
• She has an ego bigger than the Goodyear Blimp.
• Her idea of doing charity work is to cry a lot.
• There’s never a moment when she DOESN’T have PMS.
• She loves being labeled a “bitch” as if it were a badge of honor.

And now with that unpleasantness out of the way, here’s my list of traits that would make me want to love her up, and love her down, and round and round the merry-go round:

• Shares the same Christian beliefs I do, and at least tries to take it seriously. I’m not looking for sainthood here, but simply wearing a t-shirt that says “Jesus is my homeboy” does not constitute being a Christian to me.
• She’s either apolitical or shares the same basic political viewpoints I do. Seriously, if you’re the sort who thinks Europe is superior to us in every conceivable way, then go live there and leave us ignorant hicks alone.
• She’s smart. Really smart. Yes, I’m aware of the fact that a high level of intelligence would mean she wouldn’t come within a 100 miles of yours truly, but I mean smart in every other respect. Common sense could be her middle name too.
• She’s a deep person. Everything about life fascinates her, and she views it all with a kind of eloquent, yet childlike innocence.
• She’s funny in a quirky but harmless kinda way. She adores corny jokes, while dirty ones turn her off.
• She’s humble and gentle, the very embodiment of warmness, softness and snugglies.
• She makes me want to be a better man. Or more accurately, she tries to help me be a better man.
• She has a heart for giving, and her works of charity aren’t merely token gestures, but defines who she is as a person.
• She’s kindhearted, always aware of her surroundings and who might be in distress or pain, ever eager to comfort those in need. And trust me baby, I need it most of all.
• She’s principled, strong and brave.
• She can look sexy and beautiful while still maintaining her modesty.
• She is a hopeless romantic. She is all about poems and art and literature and music and history and spirituality and all those wonderful things that invite deep discussions and long talks by the fireplace.
• She is a health nut, (but not a vegan.) I kinda need this one too, since my idea of eating vegetables is to add more tomato sauce to the crust when making pizza.

Welp’, that’s it in a nutshell. Soooo…. does she exist? Or should I be looking into getting myself medically castrated and joining the nearest monastery?

I won a prize! No, it wasn’t money. No it wasn’t a date with Jessica Alba. So what did I win you ask? Lookie here:

Yep, in what I am now convinced is a global conspiracy to obliterate whatever ounce of manhood I had left over from 31 years of pain, agony, and surviving Backstreet Boys mania, Danielle from Pink Internet Marketing has declared me the random winner of her fluffy pink bear.

Still, I will accept this cuddly bundle of cuteness on Danielle’s promise that it will someday help me win over the heart of my future honey pot bon bon bunnycakes, whoever she may be.

Assuming of course, she can get past the fact that the studly man of her dreams now keeps a pink teddy bear in his bedroom.

I recently got temporarily banned from a “conservative” forum after challenging one of the members for making disgusting comments regarding his lifestyle. He basically bragged about being a heavy drinker and for sleeping around with as many women as he could mathematically fit within a day.

Normally this would get a yawn from me. I am from New York after all. But here’s the thing: he called himself a Christian, and a devout one at that.

Say what now?

Since when did God start giving thumbs up for behaving like a drunkard and a sex maniac? Was there a footnote I missed in Revelation that said, “Oh by the way, all those commandments I mentioned earlier about living a sinless life? Just kidding!”

Dudes, seriously, what is this? It was so outrageous I initially thought he was just joking. When it became clear that he wasn’t, and even worse tried to defend it, I finally called him out on it. I wasn’t nasty about it (though I could have been), and even used Scripture to back up my points and explain why I felt he was wrong.

So what happens? The board starts coming after ME. Well one “Christian” in particular, who I’m sure had also expressed the same reservations and concerns about this guy behind closed doors, yet decided to take his side and attack me because of an unrelated post I had made a few days earlier that she thought was distasteful. So, my lacking tact was somehow worse than a guy who brags about smelling like the women he slept with the night before?

O-kaaay.

Then another “Christian” (who also happened to be a mod) starts blasting me in private messages (PM), telling me that I go too far, that I should have taken it to PM, yadda yadda yadda, blah blah bladdy blah blah. Not one person, NOT ONE, ever considered the idea that maybe, just maybe, I might have had a point. And I did have a point, but I was the only one who was actually willing to say anything about it publicly.

I’m not the kind of guy who likes to murmur behind closed doors. I’d rather bring things out in the open, that way there’s no doubt as to where I stand on things. And believe me, there was no doubt then when I made that post. But once again, because I said what I felt was the truth, I get my arse put in a sling. So much for contending for the faith once delivered to all the saints.

The cowardice and hypocrisy of that board astounds me to no end. They were perfectly willing to express the very same concerns I did behind closed doors, but to actually tell it to Man Whore’s face was another matter, and even worse, they pretend to be on his side through it all. These are Christians? Good grief, the word has lost all meaning.

Hypocrites, In-Your-Face Perverts, and Cowards. That’s what the church today is all about, and why I no longer want any part of it. Yet in spite of it all, I really do believe there are good Christians out there, some of who even frequent this blog, and while they’re not perfect, they’re still trying to do the best they can in a screwy, psycho world. I have nothing but heartfelt admiration for them. I only wish we weren’t so spread out away from each other in distant lands. Oh well. At least I know they’re out there.

And yeah, I admit I’m hoping that amongst them all, the girl of my dreams is still out there as well, waiting for me.