Update: Apparently I’m getting so old I can’t even count anymore. It’s not 23 years, it’s actually 27. O_O And I was so looking forward to celebrating the silver anniversary too by hanging myself.
It all started when Margie Otta kicked me in the shinny after I gave her a Valentine’s Day card back in the third grade. I even remember what it said: ”You are my super star!”
Who knew that would only be the first of many, many, many, MANY rejections I would experience over the course of my life? (BTW, I think any grade school teacher who forces her students to participate in Valentine’s Day festivities is engaging in a form of child abuse. I really should lobby Congress, or something.)
So how did I manage this incredible feat of going loveless for 23 years? I think part of it was that I don’t fall in love easily. I experience attraction plenty of times, but I usually don’t follow through on it because there’s no IT factor. As for what IT is, I couldn’t tell you, only that only handful of girls have had IT to the extent that I became hopelessly infatuated with them. First it was Margie, then another girl in 5th grade, then a girl in 7th grade, then a few handful in high school and college. All of which were unrequited and ended tragically. Or comically, depending on how you looked at it.
I don’t know why I never played the numbers game, as in, if I simply asked enough cute girls out, somebody would have been bound to say yes, and the streak would have finally ended. But for whatever reason I was either too terrified to ask, or held out under the belief that THE one dream girl would soon present herself in some magical fashion, such as landing in my living room on a unicorn and presenting herself to me with cookies and ice cream.
It was not to be though, and eventually, enough time had passed that I had gone from thinking “plenty of time to meet someone” to “I’m too old to meet anyone now.”
I’ve become such damaged goods just by virtue of never having a relationship that I am only desirable to the undesirables, that is, those women who are now scraping the bottom of the barrel after they’ve unsuccessfully tried everywhere else. Such a nice feeling to knowing I’m the guy women settle for out of resignation, not the guy they actually wanted in the first place.
True love, baby.
Oh well, more Godiva chocolates for me then.