One of the reasons it’s been so difficult for me to find dates is because I don’t have a very active social life (which is to say, I have no social life whatsoever to speak of.) I used to have a close knit group of friends that carried me through high school and beyond college for a while, but eventually we began to drift apart for various reasons, until one day I found myself living the life of a loner again.

I was never one for attending social gatherings though so I could maybe gain some new friends, mainly because there were, well, people there. And I hated people.

Ok, I wouldn’t go so far as to say I hated them, maybe that I just didn’t get along…no I hated them.

Unfortunately, if I was ever gonna meet girls then I was gonna have to go where people were, sooner or later. With a mindset like this, it’s a small wonder why I was always holding out hope that I would meet someone at my job instead. After all, I’m forced to be here, and there were people here too, soooo….

For the longest time I used to entertain fantasies of meeting the girl of my dreams at work, so much that it started taking on a life of its own. I even nailed down what she would look like too: deeply tanned skin, big brown eyes, and luscious brown hair. She would be as sweet as an angel, maybe assigned somewhere close to me so we’d run into each other on a regular basis. Things would be strictly platonic at first, but before I knew it she would eventually warm up to me… and love would blossom out of nothing at all.

Out of nothing at allllll….. Out of nothing at… *ahem* but anyways, that’s how I imagined it. From that we would eventually become engaged, get married, and live happily ever after. Oh how I prayed and begged God that this would all happen for real. My fantasies here were so vivid that I could have weaved a cheap romance novel out of it. Probably could have made some cash from selling it too.

I had been churning over this latest fantasy of mine for a few months, when something weird happened: we got a new coworker assigned near us who had… deeply tanned skin, big brown eyes, and luscious brown hair. I swear you couldn’t make this stuff up. Our department doesn’t attract a lot of young workers to begin with, so just getting another coworker around my age would have been odd unto itself. She was a year older than me, but single and beautiful, and had a mellow, pleasant personality about her. In her previous job she worked with kids who suffered from various disabilities too. It was perfect! My dream was actually coming to life!

Except she hated me.

Well, she didn’t really hate me. She just had no interest in me whatsoever. I tried everything I could think of to woo her too, all in the futile hope that eventually, sooner or later, she would warm up to me in very much the same way her alter ego did in my fantasies. I kept her company when things got quiet during our late shifts. I helped her out whenever she needed to learn something about the job. I helped her find her keys when she had lost them and was freaking out over it, and at her request I burned dozens of her CDs into MP3s so she could use an MP3 player she bought for the gym (even though she didn’t have a computer). I changed my hairstyles, clothing, and yes, I’m ashamed to admit it, during my low points I even tried using TAG body spray (I’m suing those bastards for false advertising by the way.)

Yet despite all my efforts, when it came to asking her out to lunch, or even just coffee, she had no interest at all. The more she blew me off, the more I pined for her love. After a couple of months of this I eventually gave up. I decided I would continue being a nice guy as always, but I resigned myself to the fact that she would never be interested in me. I was just a pathetic loser who could never be good enough for her. My fantasy was not to be.

And that might have been the end of it, except that shortly afterwards she fell madly in love with another coworker, and within a few months they were engaged to be married.

My fantasies were coming to life after all… but for somebody else. Honestly, mere words could not convey the state of my emotions as I watched some little bastard boy enjoy what I previously could only experience in my dreams. Every day I had to come in to work and see those two nuzzling noses or holding hands at a picnic table (just as I envisioned it), and it was all I could do to keep myself from screaming at the top of my lungs and stepping on the gas at a nearby red light hoping an 18 wheeler would plow into me.

The best though was when the wedding itself was soon coming up, and she asked me if I had any suggestions for wedding songs she could use. I ended up making a CD of what I considered to be my most favorite love songs, songs I probably would have picked for my own wedding too. From what I heard my CD turned out to be a big hit, though I wouldn’t know, since I wasn’t invited.

I’m not one for bitterness though, so here’s a toast to their new life together. May their imminent divorce be appallingly messy and violently ugly.

No seriously, I do hope they’ll be happy together, I guess. I don’t begrudge anyone getting married, but for the love of kindness, did it really have to F*&%ING play out EXACTLY like I imagined it???

When I saw that, I guess I went through something of a system shock. My feelings went numb and I succumbed to a state of deep depression. In a way, I had given up on life. I no longer took care of myself, no longer went out as much as I used to. My clothes would get worn and start showing holes, but I didn’t care. I started suffering from health problems, but still I didn’t care. It wasn’t uncommon for me to sleep for 12-15 hours a night, and even then I just had no energy to get out of bed at all. I used to be punctual and on time for work, but I became so lethargic that if I ended up being only 10 minutes late, it was a miracle. It was becoming a regular tradition for me to hit the supermarket the night before my days off from work, stock up on groceries and DVDs from Redbox, then head home and hole up in my bedroom with my tub of popcorn, TV and laptop, where I would stay unmoved in my jammies until it was time to go back to work again.

I became utterly convinced that God hated me. After all, He wasn’t going to simply ignore my prayers here. Nope, He was going to twist and twist and twist the knife in so deep that it would all but ensure my psyche would never recover from this. It was almost like He recorded my fantasies and decided to orchestrate it in real life so that someone else would become the beneficiary of it, right before my very eyes. I mean really, what were the odds of something like that happening, down to even using the same collection of songs I dreamed would be used at my own wedding? (Which I say at the risk of sounding like a weenie girlie boy.) About a billion to one??

Why? Why did I have to endure that? Why did God have to hurt me like this? I know I can be a wiseass and all who deserves to get smacked around every now and then, but this was bafflingly cruel. It’s part of why I’m so slow to get out of bed every day, because I absolutely dread what new punishment He might have in store for me. My pathetic life must be a source of constant amusement for Him.

But… and before you Christian dweebs start berating me here, let me be quick to note that I don’t really believe this now. I know there’s a purpose to everything, and I’ve seen enough to know that for whatever reason God is keeping me safe from a lot of the evil that’s in this world. I guess that goes to show what a foregone conclusion I must be, that in spite of the complete embarrassment I experienced, I still believe God c
ares for me and has only my best interests in mind. Maybe it’s Stockholm syndrome?

Still, this one really got to me in a bad way, and even now I’m still nursing the wounds. Just when I think I’ve put it behind me, every now and then somebody will stick a finger in the wound, like when I run into her and she talks about her “husband” (just hearing her say that makes me cringe.) Ironically enough, the most recent jab came from my mother, of all places. My Mom never knew I had a thing for this girl, even though she met her a few times at work. One time we had a conversation afterwards and Mom said, “She is SUCH a sweetheart, Linc! How come you can’t meet somebody nice like her? She would have been PERFECT for you!!”

Poor Mom. She had no idea why I ran out after hearing that and started ripping and chewing on the grass on the front lawn.

Ah well. I guess the only thing that will make the pain go away for good is when I finally do meet someone for real. It’s hard to imagine even after all that how I could still retain hope that somehow, somewhere, she’s out there waiting for me, but I do. I guess I’ll always be a romantic at heart, no matter how loopy I get.

I still fantasize about meeting her though. But trust me, I have learned my lesson. Now I imagine meeting her in scenarios that are so outlandish that they cannot POSSIBLY happen to me in real life, much less to anyone else. Currently I fantasize about meeting her as part of an undercover operation I’m doing for the CIA. Oh, and I have superpowers. And the girl of my dreams is an alien from another planet who gets captured by the U.S. government. We fall in love and I spring her loose, then steal the USS Enterprise starship and together we make our way to the Alpha Centauri system, where we spend many steamy, romantic evenings on the paradise planet of Gimmegoomajamjam.

Let’s see y’all beeotches try to turn THAT one into reality, yo!

Ever since I’ve began to get some feeling back in my hands once I started tying up icepacks to them, a thought occurred to me.

Women are to blame for all of my health issues.

Wait, I’m going somewhere with this. See for guys, when it comes to taking care of ourselves and improving our general health, we’re pretty much… what’s the word, a bunch of schmucks.

We could wake up with the left side of our bodies completely paralyzed, but as long as it doesn’t stop us from getting our clothes on and driving to work, we won’t really think much of it, the same way we won’t concerned much if a car backblows 3 quarts of oil out its exhaust pipes, as long as its considered otherwise drivable. Minor things like half body paralysis (or a black cloud of smoke bellowing out of the engine of a car) don’t really bother us too much, so long as we can still get from Point A to Point B.

Women though, have this tendency where if they so much as suffer a mild discomfort, they’ll go into a complete system shutdown while they conduct extensive full body scans to determine what’s going on. But more importantly, they’ll do that for the people they love too. It’s what helps them make great mothers and doctors.

Unfortunately for me though, Mommy thinks I’m quite old enough to take care of myself now, yet I still have to reminded that there are things out there such as bandages and Tylenol, so no, I don’t have to go to bed with unbandaged scrapes oozing blood onto the spreadsheets, or wail over a pounding headache that a little Motrin IB could have fixed up right away.

Had life not have been so cruel, had I met a special girl early on, she could have kept me healthy, bandaged up my wounds, and kissed all the booboos, especially the one that was in my heart. So I blame women, (or rather the absence of one), for my current plight. You could have fixed me up and made me a better man, but instead, all that’s left of me now is a wounded rabid animal hellbent on ridding this planet of your vile kind. May the skies rain down hellfire and brimstone on all you filthy harlots of Babylon, all because one of you just couldn’t wubs me.

YOU GIRLISH MANIACS!!!! DAMN YOU!!! DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!!!!

Claire Bear (oops make that Dr. Claire Bear) tagged me with a meme (which longtime readers know is usually a sure prelude to much violence, ranting and whining on my part), BUT… I’ll give her a pass her since it’s a musical meme, which is right down my alley and just the thing needed to calm the savage beast.

The meme calls for taking 19 of your most favorite songs, burning them on 5 CDs to share with 5 other people(?!?!), then posting the playlist on your blog.

Uh, I think I’ll just mention my Top 19 and y’all can take it from there.

The first 10-15 songs were pretty easy to fill, mainly songs I first heard during my high school years that would profoundly shape my musical tastes over the years. I’ve always been a romantic at heart, so it made sense that I’d be drawn to music that expressed the highs and lows of my sometimes turbulent emotions.

The last 4 took some thought, since I was still over by about 5 songs and had to knock a few off the list. Some of the casualties were songs by the Platters, Gloria Estefan and Fleetwood Mac.

After even more consideration, I finally managed to winnow it down to 19 songs, so here they are, The Habitation of Justice’s Top 19 Songs of All Time Playlist, in alphabetical order:

• All Out of Love - Air Supply
• Best of Times - Styx
• Broken Wings - Mister Mister
• Desperado - Eagles
• Every Breath you Take - The Police
• Everything I Do (I do it for you) - Bryan Adams
• Faithfully - Peter Cetera
• Free Fallin’ - Tom Petty
• Glory of Love - Peter Cetera
• I Still haven’t Found What I’m Looking For - U2
• I Wish It Would Rain Down - Phil Collins
• King of Pain - The Police
• Mandolin Rain - Bruce Hornsby and the Range
• Open Arms - Journey
• True Colors - Cyndi Lauper
• When A Man Loves A Woman - Percy Sledge
• When You Love A Woman - Journey
• Worthless Evening - Don Henley
• You’re The Inspiration - Chicago

Update: HOLY COW I can’t believe I accidentally cut out REO Speedwagon’s “I Can’t Fight This Feeling” AHHHHHH, that easily would have made my top 5 list too! OK, scratch off ummm…. Percy Sledge for REO and that should do it for my Top 19.

Found an interesting Dear Dr. Graham letter in an advice column today:

Dear Dr. Graham: I’ve fallen in love with a woman I work with, and I sincerely believe God brought us together.

But my wife got very upset when she found out and I told her I wanted a divorce.

What a sad world we live in when even our own wives try to get in the way of true love.

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?

So it’s looking like my server isn’t even going to be upgraded until Wednesday. Well screw it then. I’ll just continue blogging until I go out in a blaze of glory.

And oh, what’s this? The governor of New York allegedly gets caught hooking up with an alleged hoochie coochie ring, placing an alleged order for “Kristen” the very night before (wait for it….) Valentine’s Day. Allegedly.

Did I not tell you that day was cursed?

I feel sorry for the guy though. Man’s so ugly I bet even his wife won’t touch him unless the lights are out and she’s double blindfolded, so I could understand if he felt little choice but to go off the ranch for a little bit of bareback horse riding fun.

But dudes, have you seen the PRICES for them pro hos?

I mean, $5,500 an hour for one of their premier selections. An HOUR. Just getting a hug would probably set me back 3 days pay for crying out loud. I wouldn’t pay that kind of money if it meant rolling around in the hay with Jessica Alba… …ok I would, but still, we’re talking a lot of money here.

Makes me wonder if that’s going to be my future though. Is true love going to be such a lost cause for me that I would have no choice but to use my life’s savings to pay off a “working girl,” just so I can finally get one little night of snugglies and wubs?

What a cold, cold world we live in.