Will our hero find love this time?

Despite the sappy title, for the most part I'm usually pretty chill with my state of perpetual singleness. I don't worry about it too often, I figure what will happen, will happen. I tend to be very laissez faire about that aspect of my life.

But every now and then, I get a little spark under my ass to consider maybe taking the initiative to do something about that. Yesteday being one of those days. Usually it's sparked off by something or another, and this was no different. In fact I think it was the confluence of two things:

1)Saturday night I had gone out for Matt's birthday to a bar called the Liquor Store in the Alley in Boston. Tupically not a palce I would go ever of my own volition, but it was a special occasion. And despite the fact that the female patrons seemed of the sort that I would have approximately nothing in common with, hot and drunk girls riding a mechanical bull and dancing against poles on a Stripper Audition Stage (my name) are still hot and drunk girls riding a mechanical bull and dancing against poles on a Stripper Audition Stage. It's bound to get the blood flowing, and not all in the direction of the brain.

2)Sunday morning, I woke up not with any remaining thoughts of the previous night, but oddly enough from far out of the blue, a mental image of a very cute (albeit very spoken for) friend of mine in a summer dress, (possibly the single greatest item of a female's wardrobe for those that can wear it well.)

Anyway, between these two occurences, I spent a good part of the day thinking perhaps I should take a little more initiative. After all, it's been long enough that I can legally assume the mantle of the "Sahara" nickname. Of course, since there were no single women hanging around my apartment when I woke up, (unless you want to count the cats, and it's not nearly that dry in the desert), taking said initiative consisted more of just placing an ad on Craigslist. (No, not one of THOSE ads, a serious one; well, as serious as I'm likely to be, that is.)

However, and I've realized, that I am a pretty unlucky combination of two things: picky and shy. The first is normal, hell everyone's picky to some degree. But when added to the second, it's like I'm that square peg looking at nothing but round holes. (Yes, that analogy was specifically chosen so that you can take all the back alley Freudian innuendo you want from it.) I've also realzied that I'm not going to sugarcoat myself for anyone, well at least not personality-wise. (You want to talk about actual physical confectioneries, we can discuss my going rates.) But that's just one game I'm not interested in. That's not to say I'll be dosing anyone with a double barrel blast of pure, unadulterated VMan right from the starting gun. I'll let a tolerance develop. But I will be me in all my crude and left of centered glory, motherfuckers. (All cursing in the previous sentence added simply for effect.) Man, this seems like it's going to be one tall order.

But we'll see what follows over the next few days. Probably nothing, a few emails that go nowhere, then my gradual sinking back into nonchalance. But, hey, you never know. Might as well give it a shot.