Status: single

So I get it. We’re all lonely when there’s not someone special in our lives. We see all these happy couples and it’s a slap in the face, right?

I was mindlessly watching television (a rare occurance, but without a warm body at my side, I have an occasional lapse in judgement on time management) when I happened across a Match.com commercial. Apparently, they hook you up ‘based on points of compatability’ and there’s always ‘amazing chemistry’. One couple even exclaimed how wonderful their life is together, adding ‘neither one of us like tomatoes’. No kidding.

See, the problem is, who gives a f*ck if Auto doesn’t loves sushi and I’m timid to try new things. I don’t love him any less, feel any less connected to him, and I’m sure he doesn’t much care I haven’t the same affinity for strange food. See, holding onto that one, and making it work, or last, or figured out, isn’t about tomotoes. It’s not about both of you being cat lovers and baseball fans. If it was that easy, that black and white, we’d all be making love right now, not sitting alone with a vodka cranberry or a beer, writing or reading, or watching weird internet porn (there’s a million and more of you out there, I cannot possibly narrow down what’s happening).

Love isn’t holiday shopping dating advice either. I read in Cosmo to pick out a cute male shopper (seems convient working in the mall as much as I do) and offer coffee your treat, and some company and light conversation. Who does that? No one. Or maybe I’m just too traditional.

What are you going to find in a ‘perfect match’? Chances are you’re alone or with someone who makes you feel alone because you don’t even like yourself. It’s the unfortunate truth that ‘you have to love yourself’ is a rule you should live by first. So it follows logic to say if you don’t like what you see in your mirror, in your heart, in your head, what are the chances of real, working, lasting someone else if they’re your perfect match.

I swear, you’re not that desperate. You’re probably young, and just tired and full of self pity. Even I’m not that turned about. Sort yourself out, and somewhere along the line, someone, maybe not the someone who’s going to be in the bed next to you tonight, or the one you can’t quite say I love you to, but someone will fall into your path, and you’ll fall the rest of the way together.

Hey, I’m not preaching–I’m still waiting myself.