I do not follow the rules of the dating game. I am awful at any kind of games that involve the heart, unless it is the: "Let's smash her heart, make her cry, and feel like an awful person for a really long time" game that I let people play with me. This destructive game keeps me stocked up on anti-depressants and keeps the psychiatrists in my area well employed. I'm not even sure that if I knew all the rules to the "dating game" that I would play.
Here is what I do know: 1) I have a good, trusting (somewhat cyncial and bitter after the last two years) heart. I instinctively believe people (FOB excluded) when they say that they are going to do something. When someone says, "call me", they shouldn't be surprised when I do. 2) There is a special place in hell for people that mess with feelings of a single Mom. That place is hot, humid, and has monsters that continually rip off your genitals and then sew them back on with a rusty paperclip and some fishing wire. Standing someone up is one thing. It's a shitty thing to do, but it's one thing. Standing someone up after they have arranged for a babysitter is tantamount to admitting that you a cold, heartless bastard with absolutely no heart to speak of.
I have better ways of telling someone that I don't want to date them. I just do. They might hurt and they might not be as convenient, but at least they are honest and they come from my very tattered, bruised heart.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
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