Tuesday, January 31, 2006


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.

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