A sobering thought, by Michael Sherrillo
I was sitting home... on a Saturday night... alone... eating Ben and Jerry's ice cream... brooding over my consistent lack of female companionship when I had an epiphany, the only consistent feature in all my dissatisfying relationships is me. How many times had I used the line, "It's not you, It's me...", but I never thought it could be true... I guess I just don't understand what it is about me. The only piece of advice I ever hear from anyone is "you won't find someone until you stop looking". ...Riiiiiiight... If I can't find my keys when I'm looking for them, I somehow doubt that they will just "pop up" if I go watch TV instead. Seems logical to me that you can't find what you’re not looking for in the first place. Well, needless to say, I was depressed. Ok, it's me, I could accept that, but exactly what about me is it? I seem to have no problem getting girls numbers, and they generally seem attracted to me and interested in getting together, so where do I go wrong? I know I'm not repulsive (though, halfway through that carton of Karmal Sutra, I was starting to feel like it) but then again, anyone can look cute and be witty for the 30 seconds worth of conversation the number acquiring process takes. I seem to run into my first block when I try to make my transition from "Nice guy she talked to on phone" to "Guy who wants to go on a date" or even "Guy who she calls back". For some reason, I have difficulty getting that first date going. Statically, out of the numbers I've gotten in the past 6 months (approximately 50) I've managed to get 10 first dates. That means I have about a 20% success rating right now. Out of those, I've gotten second dates with 3 or 4. Which bring my odds of seeing a person more than once to about 4%. Since I'm still very single, and very much not seeing anyone, I'm currently working with a 100% failure rating. The only situation of note involves someone who I care very deeply for and who decided we can never be together. If you read my previous poem, you can tell I'm not dealing with the heartbreak well. The ironic twist, like a fork in my stomach, is that I am a hopeless romantic. In so being, I happen to believe that there is someone out there for everyone, and so I am unable to accept the obvious fact that I am destined to be alone. Instead, I continue to search for that which was never there, with the purpose and futility of a bird who constantly crashes into the glass window it never sees. " I am the lover unloved, and I am alone."