I love this site.

Longtime readers might remember my brief experience with Uptown Girl, who I had met through a dating site and was just getting to know when she blew me off unexpectedly, this after sending her flowers for her birthday too, but of course. I never understood why, but I should have figured she would go cold on me sooner or later. She was a Christian after all, and you know how warm and fuzzy them Chrischuns can get, a’ight?

This site however attempts to provide closure for people like me who constantly get blown off by the opposite sex. They work by acting as an intermediary and sending the… (Blower-Offer?) a friendly and easy to fill out survey so they can explain their actions, but without having to deal with the Blower-Offeree(?) directly.

It would be nice at least to know if there was something specific I might have done wrong to scare her off, that way maybe I can learn to avoid making the same mistakes next time. I submitted my own investigation request, so let’s see what the little bitch has to say for herself.

If she still doesn’t respond, I could always send her a bill for the flowers instead.

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.

….when I can now enjoy the fresh episodes of Stargate SG-1 and Atlantis?

I got my tub of Blockbuster popcorn, a nice tall glass of Diet Cola, and the easy chair all geared up and ready to go. Ahhh, a Friday night all to myself. Maybe now I’ll be able to forget about how Uptown Girl strung me along for months and then finally blew me off, the no-good lying backstabbing Babylonian harlot may she choke on her own vomit.

But I’m not upset about it.

I kinda knew deep down that things wouldn’t get very far with her. Not so much because we came from two different worlds, but also because she gave off the vibe of being an emotionally cold, self indulgent woman. If she truly had a kind heart, one that showed a genuine care and concern for others, then why was she working for a law firm that catered only to rich clients? Why wasn’t her heart drawn to helping less fortunate people, victims of wrongdoing who never see justice only because they simply couldn’t afford it? Why didn’t she take time to volunteer for charitable work? Where was that trait I was so earnestly looking for, of a woman who was willing to stretch forth her hand to the poor and needy? She just didn’t have it.

It was clear instead that she enjoyed living the good life. Sipping wine, vacationing to exotic places, tanning on beaches, jacuzzis, massages, and so on, the kind of life she could only sustain by working for an affluent law firm. Yet, I don’t begrudge her for doing these things. I think there’s a time and place for recreation and fun, but I also think there’s a point where your life becomes so hedonistic that it can corrupt your soul. And even though she professed to be a Christian, spirituality to her was something that was summed up in attending church once a week, and nothing more. She was not one I could share deep discussions about my faith with. And this was a maddening mentality I’ve seen repeatedly before which I could never understand. How can people truly expect to placate God by only dedicating a few hours on Sunday to Him, and then completely forget about Him for the rest of the week? Can they honestly believe He is pleased by this display of lukewarm spirituality?

Through my emails I opened my heart up to her, and though she claims to have been touched by it, I knew she really wasn’t. There was no empathy, no concern for my well-being, no genuine interest in how I was dealing with the aggravation and problems I was currently experiencing in my life, even though I was certainly interested in what her daily afflictions might have been. But the thing is, she didn’t have any. Suffering for her was not being able to sip wine on her patio because it rained.

She wasn’t a bad person though. But she wasn’t a good person either. I began to realize all this early on, but I guess I held on anyway, hoping against hope that maybe she would surprise me. Maybe she would indeed have a soft and gentle soul, tuned in to the suffering of others, with a fire inside her that yearned to alleviate their burdens and comfort those that needed comforting. Maybe the apparent coldness she seemed to give off was just borne out of an understandable hesitation to open up to me. Maybe for once, my sixth sense was just wrong here.

Or maybe not.

Now it’s back to enjoying Friday nights all by myself again, with only a tub of popcorn and a teddy bear named Homer to keep me company.

The REAL storm wasn’t the Nor’easter that recently hit us, it was the one that followed me to work today (and beyond).

When I came in I proceeded to get absolutely pummeled by a mountain of work, completely catching me off guard because stupid me, I actually thought the Nor’easter would create a slow work day for us. Yeah right. Evidently our esteemed court system thought otherwise, and happily dished out more restraining orders than I’ve ever seen in 3 lifetimes. Good grief.

Then I got into it with my boss as I kept grilling him for why he was refusing to help me in putting a schedule together that would allow me to go to law school. His ultimatum was that if I didn’t like it I could always transfer out, and with a shrug he washed his hands of the whole matter.

But it didn’t stop there. I complained to him about the mouse droppings that were on my desk, and he asked me why I didn’t clean it up myself. Was this guy purposely being dense here, or was he just born an assface? You don’t just clean mouse droppings with a simple wipe and expect it to be clean. The area needed to be sterilized before it can be used again. But this seems to matter to my boss, not at all.

Then I found out he was no longer authorizing overtime for my coworkers, which meant I’d be by myself at the busiest time of day to man the phones, an absolute no-no for me since I was hearing impaired. I did the best I could under the circumstances, but after dealing with clerks who spoke secondhand English with a thick accent for the better part of an hour, I knew it was not going to be a good day.

The day would mercifully come to an end, but not before I find out that Uptown Girl had in fact been stringing me along this whole time, and never did have any serious interest in me, except possibly as distant friends. Gee I wish I would have known that before I sent her the damned flowers for her birthday. I want my 30 bucks back.

What a day.

It was Uptown Girl’s birthday recently, so I decided to surprise her by having flowers delivered to her doorstep. I wanted to show her I was sincerely interested in her, and I admit I was kinda hoping the flowers would tug at her heart strings a little more too.

I got several text messages from her when she got them, so that’s encouraging. Nothing about me of course is normal, and if I hadn’t told her I was hearing impaired and hated using the phone, I’m sure she would have called instead. Trying to generate something solely via email with someone who is not much of an Internet person to begin with is, to put it mildly, a bit frustrating. Especially when that someone is so busy at times she barely has time to herself, let alone the time to email someone. I was going to have to call her in order to sustain things

I knew I was going to have to go out into the real world if I wanted to get somewhere with her, and even though she was understanding and was willing to take things slow, I couldn’t string her along forever.

So I began the process of improving my hygiene and my health. My experience so far though tells me this was not going to be a walk in the park for me. First I went out and bought some anti-acne facial wash to clean up my face a little. The net result was no change in my acne, but my lips began to shrivel up like I had swallowed a pound of alum. Even a week after I stopped using the wash my lips were still parched and crusty. I also had dried skin on my nose that still wouldn’t go away after applying several cans of vitamin E and aloe vera cream on it, a body wash whose pleasant odor dissipated five seconds after I got out of the shower, deodorant that gave my armpits rashes even though they contained “all natural” ingredients, nose and ear hair that even a weed whacker would have problems gutting, and perpetually sweaty palms that drive me so crazy I’m considering using a blow torch to keep them dry.

Cripes this was hard. It was like my own body was furiously plotting against me, determined to ensure I’d live out the rest of my days as an unwed hermit. Compounding things even more was the fact that I haven’t had a decent wardrobe in years, partly due to wearing a uniform on my job (thus vacating the need for any dressy attire) and my Homer Simpson shaped figure.

No wonder I’m so afraid to step outside the door. And now I have this beautiful and accomplished woman that I’ve somehow managed to get the attention of, but because my stupid ass wasn’t willing to wait and get my body under control first before I started seeding dating profiles halfway around the galaxy, I now have to deal with the possibility that I will completely humiliate myself and ruin my chances with a rare and decent girl, the likes of whom may come only once in this lifetime.

For whatever reason, I seem to be continuously pitted against insurmountable odds in my quest for a life (and some smoochies…. ok lots of smoochies). I can either toss in the towel and decide this is a war I can never win, or take it head on, Rocky style.

And I think if I do go down for the count, then I should at least go down swinging.

I think I have what might be called an inferiority complex. I have a tendency to put myself down and take everything personally, regardless of whether it is merited or not. If I don’t get a call from someone, I take it personally, even if all it meant was that the person was just busy. I get so wrapped up in how I think other people perceive me that it’s warped my whole perspective on life. If people like me, I’m in a good mood. If people don’t like me, I can barely get out of bed. My whole emotional well being is wrapped up in what other people think of me.

My experience with Uptown Girl has in some ways forced me to deal with this insecurity. She really does seem interested in me, but because it takes her a while sometimes to respond to my emails, I quickly begin to doubt her sincerity and start going into self analysis: “What did I do wrong? What did I say wrong? Did I contact her too much? Too little? Did I offend her somehow, or was she just humoring me until she lost interest?” And then I would pout and feel sorry for myself, wailing that nobody loves me and that I’ll never meet anyone willing to play snugglies with me.

And finally, if only dimly, it began to creep into my mind that my happiness can’t be wrapped up in another person. For the longest time I would think, “if I just met a nice girl, THEN I would be happy.” But it’s dawning on me that I needed to be happy with who I was FIRST before anything else. I had to divorce my emotional state of mind from how others might see me, no matter who that person might be. And a lot of it has to do with not believing God when He says that “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” If I, despite all my broken parts, am His child, then what should I care if whether people like me or not? The love of many may wax cold, but God’s love endures forever. No matter where I go, where I end up, His love will remain unchanged, and He is with me always. So what is man then, that I should acknowledge what he or she thinks of me?

I knew I had to stop putting myself down, and stop throwing a pity party because I think I’m not good looking or smart, or because I have a disability, or because of this thing or that thing. My self confidence and happiness had to be drawn from the knowledge that I was made in God’s image, and because of that I am special. Anything the Lord made is good and wonderful, and nobody, no matter how much better they think they might be than me, can tell me otherwise.

The nucleus of this revelation began to build within me when I decided not to sit on my hands anymore and just keep emailing Uptown Girl. I was going to be who I was, and trust her at her word that she truly was interested in me. No more game playing. The net result? She responded right away, and we now have each other’s phone numbers. I’m going to give her a call today. No… tomorrow. No… this weekend. Ok, next week maybe?

Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day…