And We're Back!!

I've been in a bit of a funk lately. In fact, according to my blogging history, I've been "funking" over two months.  I don't think the reason for it is all that interesting; just your garden-variety heartbreak, really.  And while the "emotional me" plods through the house, sighing and flopping on the couch; the "analytical me" is nagging that "we need to get SOMETHING done here, people!"

Of course, the way I tackle my sadness is to fill my life with pointless crap. I work longer hours. I offer to scan two hundred boxes of home slides and Super-8s for my father. I become obsessive about scraping the paint off my house. So obsessive, in fact, that I'm afraid the amount of wood I've removed from the clapboards could effect the structural integrity of the building. Or at the very least, make it look like a bullet-pocked building in Beirut circa the 1980s.

Another pointless and time consuming habit I've adopted: a dating app.

I signed up and created a profile in my typical manner. I took a fake picture off the web:

But I DID write accurate information in the profile fields. I guess I was thinking that anyone willing to see past my looks and appreciate my unbridled wit and conversational charm would be pleasantly surprised to find that I DON'T have a mustache when they meet me in real life. At least, as long as we meet before 7:00 PM.

I actually received a lot of replies in the first couple of hours of signing up, and I chalk that up to the "fresh-meat" sensibility. Initially, these responses were sweet. "How RU", "UR hot", "U up 2 party?", and "I'd lick that pussy" were among the dozens of messages I got. But, of course, as the days went by a few suitors rose in the ranks and in my affection; each developing his own style of discourse as we messaged back and forth. 

Potential suitor #3:  Goes by the name LEMONADE_MAKER, which I think means he's optimistic or some shit. But for some reason, it sounds dirty to me. In fact, I snort every time I get a notification saying "LEMONADE_MAKER sent you a message!"  He and I have this banter going where he asks me to meet him somewhere for a first date. I say "No. Not interested." Then, he'll start writing in all capitals and accuse me of "NOT OPENING THE BOOK!"  I think this is a reference to judging a book by its cover, but it's such an esoteric way of not saying what he means that I usually wrap up the conversation with "Is this thing on?"  We've done this for about two weeks. Every night.  

Potential suitor #2:  Goes by the name RJ102 and is 28 years old.  Let me say that again... He is 28 years old. I could have birthed this boy.  He is a very attractive black man/boy...which makes me very very suspect. I mean, really? Why the hell would this man/boy be messaging me? So, I play up the old-lady-ness of myself.  I say things like "Can I find this Instagram at the library?" And he ALWAYS tries to explain the complex workings of the digital age in a very detailed and patient way. But I interrupt him as much as I can. And I tangent the conversation, which usually ends when I pretend to fall asleep mid sentence. I talk to this guy two or three times a day.

Potential suitor #1:  Goes by the name AxeMan. I am not sure if that's a typo. Which was actually the topic of our initial conversation. I suggested he might want to throw a double "S" in there. He thought I was being antagonistic and "off-puttingly suggestive". Our messages consist almost ENTIRELY of bickering and passive-aggressiveness. Tonight's topic: 

HIM: Do you really have tear tattoos on your face, and do you realize those are gang tattoos given to people when they serve time. 

ME: Yes.  Did you have a good day?

HIM:  They usually mean you've killed someone. Did you kill someone?

ME (after a pregnant 15 minutes):  Of course. But that's not why I got the tattoos.

Here's the thing, though. This shit takes TIME. A lot of time. And that is just PERFECT for me right now. So, I will surely keep you posted as I can't see how this could go wrong.