The weekend is here and that means it’s time for the mating and dating rituals of the single (and single-minded) to begin! Hopefully your endeavors in bringing sexy back work out better than this sad story from Portlandia. Remember, just because plentyofish/okcupid/zoosk/eHarmony says you’re “a perfect match” doesn’t mean it’s true! Consolation prize? You might just get some good material for a story that you can post to missed connections. Cheers!
Missed Connections in Portland
“We live in a world fueled by illusions.” I said. “People just believe whatever is necessary to continue living as selfishly as they can. They don’t want truth, they want what feels good. They want the fog, not the light”
“I like ice cream and sand castles and my best friend is a balloon.” she said.
“Yup.” I said. Seriously hoping, but very much unsure, that she was being sarcastic.
“I know what you mean, but can you blame people for that?” She said.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” I said.
“I don’t know, what do you think?” She said.
“I guess you can’t blame people for coping with what can be a very brutal world…I think that people are a mix. Some beautiful and shining most of the time and some ugly and manipulative most of the time, most are somewhere in the middle….I’ve experienced too much of the harsh side.” I said. “But I can’t live my life that way. I have to believe that people are mostly good. If I didn’t, I might as well curl up and die.”
Her eyes kind of glazed over.
“I thought we were gonna talk about favorite drinks and tell stupid jokes.” She said.
“Whiskey and coke, and how many Paul Walker look-alikes does it take to drive…..”
“Ahhh…..toooo soooon.” She said, with genuine concern.
“Really? Do you know how many other people died on that day?” I said.
“No, but I bet you’re gonna tell me.” She said.
“155,000″ I said. “Why does this guy matter?”
“Well, he’s famous, he’s rich, and he’s hot.” She said. “What’s the matter, you jealous?”
“No, I’m none of those things but I don’t want to be any of those things either. He captures their attention because they are told to pay attention to him.” I said. “People don’t think for themselves, they are told what to feel, how to feel, and what to pay attention too. This is what matters. I overheard a couple in line at the store talking about him like they knew him. Its wild…why are they mourning a stranger and not the 155,000 others? Do we worship media so much that we have actually tricked ourselves into believing that these people are intimate parts of our lives? Something is terribly wrong with all of this….people are actually living these illusions, everyday.”
“You think too much.” She said, her posture becoming defensive. “And you’re obviously not rich.”
Uh-Oh, I thought, maybe she knows Paul Walker.
“Maybe you don’t think enough.” I said. “And how do you know I am not rich?”
“Because you’re not, look at you.” She said, her face now resembling an exasperated cartoon.
I wanted to like her.
I was very quickly not liking her.
When I met her at the grocery store, she seemed so good hearted and smart. But here and now, she just seemed shallow and uninteresting. I realized that I had done it again, I had taken what she said when we met and made it into what I wanted it to be, instead of the nonsense that it actually was. I’ve done this before. Not often, but its happened.
I don’t know. The deepest attraction for me is in the mind and personality. I have to be at least somewhat physically attracted to a woman, but to really be invested there has to be a light on somewhere. A real connection. Its so hard to find, so rare, and I crave it so badly, that I create it for myself just to fill the void. I was living my own illusion!!!!
“Where are you from?” I said.
“Lake Oswego.” She said.
I started laughing. And I couldn’t stop. I had beer dripping out of my nose by the end of it. I felt like a total and complete asshole, but I couldn’t for the life of me stop. Her face became confused and then curious and then angry, but that just made me laugh harder.
She pulled her cell phone out of her purse. Then she said, pretending to have just received a text, “I have to go, thanks for the drink, dick.” I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t stop laughing. I managed to sqeak out “I’m Sorry!!!! I have a condition!!!” as she marched away almost tripping over her high heels, to be driven home fast and furiously by the ghost of Paul Walker.
Dating is hard