Monday, November 19, 2012

The Internet

Sometimes I just don't know what to do about it when it comes to men and dating. I dated someone for a while who didn't have Facebook or even a defunct Linked In account and I have to say--heaven.

Then I dated a guy who was eager to be my friend on there, and then eager to tear me down for what I was writing or expressing, which for me is part of writing.

So I just don't know what to do about this Internet business.

Taking the things a lot of men I don't know say on here at face value becomes the scary, if entertaining, experience previously documented on these pages, and yet: I need to be able to do that. But the nature of the date machine seems to indicate it would do no good to include a house rule, though it's a sound house rule, such as "Personas need not apply and masks get sexy with me on the streets of New Orleans already," since enough people are operating on the premise that no one means what they say that it's become true in a sense, one of the many floating yet fixed cultural tendencies this article really lays out.

Hey, wait; are you still there? You're not picturing me on some Bourbon Street balcony right now, are you? I thought we were friends and that's in the small category of things you could picture me doing that would actually bother me on some instinctive level, maybe because I never hung out there when I lived there because why would I when there's so much else, or maybe because it seems like something the Amy Fisher girls from Long Island would do and being grouped with them by virtue of where I was born is some poison ivy and you don't know what kind: Drew Barrymore, sure, sans the psycho, but Alyssa Milano Amy? Eh. Also, so long as we're chatting and all, I don't flash for beads, or anything, because if you're seeing my breasts it's not because I want you to just look at them ahem and that all goes down in private, not in public (the vast majority of the time).

Shifting gears like an Audi, since this next tangent makes me sound sort of like an oldster, but I'm trying to be orgamatized with my main point, the uh internet, I haven't been involved in large-scale mainstream social media sites long enough for them to really impact my dating life and I don't much want to date anyone that takes it that seriously or, frankly, expects me to do any couples advertising, or declarations, or mugging, on the internet, beyond a few photos here and there. I'm grossly opposed to the joint couples profile photo in that I just find it gross. Most of the boyfriends I've had would also mock that, though I suppose some could be bullied into posting it...which makes one wonder if they meant the mocking...don't want to think about situational ethics right now, though.

Yeah, so dating used to be this regular thing I did. Then I marooned here, in NYC, where conditions are such that women talk openly and without shame about online dating profiles they wouldn't even have in other cities. And I could've maybe really moved to Phoenix to be with someone awesome I met in Vegas (Editor's rude interruption: Look, the number of women in long-distance relationships here is high--in the parlance of our times, I'm just saying), but didn't have a way forward there outside of him, then all these crises happened when I was still zombified from my Nola crises, with some of the new crises (men friends dying) pertaining to the old crises and then there's just this stream of bad dates and unexecuted escapes and hot men from Brooklyn, and leaving Brooklyn late at night, and a snowed-in television sound (winter). Now, on the horizon of a lease ticking out, I do feel the pull West.

Regardless of where I land, even if I just ride around in a van, which would feel preferable at this point, which is when I know I need to leave a town, I look forward to dating more--you know, like normal, like a poet who has expressed and experienced passions that lead her to chug deep breaths of relief in the face of the sadness emanating off internet collages.

Yes, there's been a lot of bad coldness from the males here in the old new millennium, but men from Brooklyn are fire, a natural candle in the wind thing, so I tip my tit* to them and only them, barring new developments, of course.

This, too, shall pass.

*I was going to say hat, but it's rare for me to wear hats.
Also, barring new developments is my new tagline for pretty much everything.

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