Second verse, same as the first. Blogger ate this on my first try. It made me very sad...
Because my arms are tired. Why are my arms tired? Because I have written about a thousand e mails today. Why have I written so many e mails? Because I am insane.
You may recall that Saturday night I went to the company holiday party with no date. It was not sad at all, but it planted a little seed that turned into bored and lonely on Sunday night. So bored and lonely, in fact, that I posted a personal ad on craigslist.
This morning I woke up to a half dozen e mails from boys who would like to date me. At last count there were more than two dozen of them.
I am replying to every single first e mail, because you never know, and it seems like the polite thing to do. I'm replying to most of the second ones. I didn't reply to one of the first ones, actually, it read basically "vegetarian, liberal, feminist, smoker, drinker, cat-owner: I know why you're single." He does get points though for getting past the picture and scrolling down to read about me.
Because many of them seem to have missed that part. They got as far as the picture and fired off an e mail to tell me I'm pretty. That's great, lovely, really. I like it. It does make it challenging to write back though. "Thanks. What do you do? How old are you? Where are you from? What are your interests?"
It's like Rush. Or Formal Panhellenic Recruitment or whatever it's called now. Or a reality television program. Or perhaps like being a dog in heat.
Then they write back and tell me some or all of these things, but don't want any further information about me, and I'm like "Do I write back to you? Do you care? I'm really very boring. I like books and writing, just like my little ad said. You're right! I'm pretty!"
Instead, I've been writing back and talking about their interests. I shouldn't have to do this much work. I'm too lazy to have twenty-eight men trying to get a date with me when most of them won't keep up their end of the conversation. Okay, mostly they're trying to get to sleep with me, but whatever.
I need some girlfriends here to help me wade through all this mess and seperate the wheat from the chaff. At the moment, there are a couple of guys who are standing out in the crowd. No one has made me giggle though.
I'm weeding out anyone who, after two e mails, still doesn't seem to have a grasp on the basics of English. I just want complete sentences, coherent thoughts, punctuation, you know, the basics. They aren't getting second replies if they can't manage that.
I'm also elminating the obviously unsuitable. He called himself a fiscal Republican. This one's twice my age, older than my father actually! That sort of thing.
They'll lose interest in me and I'll lose interest in making all the conversation and in a few days, I should be down to a manageable quantity of guys with actual potential.
Meanwhile, I set an eight thirty cut-off for replying to new e mails. They're piling up in there, but I have to stop. I could make this a full time job.
I know. My life is so hard. This really is fun. It's an awfully lot of work, and quite overwhelming, but it is fun. I told my Canadian fiance (Devil Boy) not to worry that he's still tops on my list...
[Just now another new one came in. This is so absurd! And fun! He will have to wait until tomorrow.]
The Fine Print:
2003: Getting ranty. This is one of those entries that actually holds up for me a year later. I was writing about two people. One of them is long since forgiven. The other not so much.
