Monday, February 18, 2013

Man On The Moon

I have the perfect body.  That is to say, that if this shitty body I have, can be defined as "perfect".  The norm would dictate otherwise, but I've come to the realization that no matter what sort of workout regiment or diet I was to commit to, my level of desirability to the opposite sex, will be null and void.  To elaborate further;  Even if I were to become the most physically fit fella in the city, I'd remain ugly as f*ck.  

No matter how much I squint, looking into the mirror, it is still my ugly mug that I see squinting back.  To be perfectly honest, I'm not even clear on the conquests I've already had in my life.  To the best of my knowledge, every one of these fantastic women have had good vision, therefore by simple deduction, I have to believe that it was charm and charisma that got me to share that special bond with them.  These days, however, I'm rarely faced with a situation that will allow me to impart my special characteristic.  It's rare that I converse with anyone at work, especially those of the female persuasion.

I was thinking the other day, that if I were the person I am today, back in high school, there's a good chance that I'd have been more popular than I was.  In high school, I was invisible.  A "living ghost" as it were.  Roaming the halls, too shy to speak to just about anyone.  I had friends, sure, but my place on the pecking order was near the bottom with the dog shit and spent chewing gum.  Whether that was the case, truly, it's how I've always perceived myself back then.

Nowadays, I don't have many opportunities to mingle with people.  Availing myself in a social situation, faced with any single women.  I've gone to the bar with friends, but really, does a person really wanna establish a relationship with some floozy who's half cut with her boobs bouncing out of her two-sizes too small shirt?  Not really.  Fun to watch from the corner of the booth, but I can't respect someone who doesn't respect themselves.  Although, as I type out these words, it would seem that I, too, have little self respect.  Not to mention that the premise of exchanging an intelligible conversation with a heavy bass pounding in the background is f*cking impossible.

I'm not that interesting, anyway.  Even with those I've already have an established friendship, I rarely have anything significant to share.  One of my best friends in the world, who ironically I only see once every few months, I never have anything that interesting to share when we do catch up.  He'll ask about what's new in my life, and I almost always have nothing to tell.  I work, I come home, I repeat.  Weekend comes and more times than not, I stay in the entire weekend.

As per my current situation of not meeting anyone, or having opportunities to engage anyone long enough to warrant a social outing of warm refreshments and a tasty meal, I suppose that's on me.  Ball's in my court, so to speak, but I honestly couldn't even tell you what sort of venues are out there for a single (unattractive) fella like me.  Go to a church?  Gimme a f*ckin' break!  Plus, I wouldn't feel right about seeing someone who believes so strongly in something that I find absolutely preposterous.  Online dating?  Not a chance.  I tried that years ago and got burned by one chick and then the other described herself as "athletic", but in reality was a chain-smoking battle tank.  I'm no prize, myself, as I've plainly pointed out, and definitely should not be throwing rocks from my glass house, but f*ck.  I'm not interested in cigarette-ash-stinkin' sibling of Jabba the Hut.

Another argument for winning the lottery would be my sudden attractiveness to women.  With a couple mill in my bank account would definitely make me much more attractive to women.  I know this is a shallow point, both on my account and theirs, but with enough zero's behind a number, would even make John Merrick* suddenly appear like Gerard Butler to the most finicky of women.  In the meantime, I think I could maybe get away with just wearing sunglasses everywhere.  Kind of like Belushi in The Blues Brothers.  Wearing my Raybans always make me feel better about myself anyway.  

The biggest frustration I feel, I think, is when I look around me and see all these other ugly motherf*ckers of equal or greater hideousness, partnered with an attractive significant other on their arm.  A special someone  with whom to spend time with, laugh with, converse with.  Someone to just be with.  That's all I'm really concerned with.  The physical aspects of any relationship is one thing, but someone to just be with.  A shoulder to lean on when the times are tough.  A smile to share a laugh with when the times are great.  I don't think that's too much to ask.  I just don't know how to do it, is all.  I believe that deep down, I'm a fairly decent guy.  I have a good job, own my house, and have an awesome head of hair.  I'm not perfect, this is true, but people seldom are.

It's been said by those who come out of a marriage and are faced with the single life once more, of having "ring rust", so to speak.  Having no idea on how to dive back into the dating pool.  I've never been married and I still have no f*cking clue....

.

*John Merrick was "The Elephant Man"* 

No comments:

Post a Comment