I haven’t been doing much with this lately, for a few reasons. One, there was a boy I met and liked and went out with a few times, but then the holidays happened and it kind of fell apart. The issue is that he is a phone person and I am an e-mail person. That… doesn’t work. I refuse to answer my phone and he refuses to check his e-mail. Brilliant! Clearly we’re a match.
Two, I got pneumonia. That sucked, in many ways. When you think you’re dying (and let’s face it — I’m prone to melodrama), it tends to realign your priorities. Even if you only think you’re dying for a few hours. So I hid from the pile of boys and occasional girl who were e-mailing me and… I’m not sure. I wrote, and I hung out with my friends, and I mooned over The Ex, which seems to be the default thing I do these days. I was dying, and I only wanted him, and he didn’t even call to see how I was. So now I bake a lot of cookies and have been very purposefully NOT logging on to any dating sites.
But I decided that was kind of lame, so I went back on a few of them tonight. And — curses! I keep forgetting that alt.com deletes all your messages if you don’t log in regularly. So my inboxes are all cleaned out. Except that there was someone online e-mailing all of my personalities as I was logging in and out. Seriously, she e-mailed ALL OF THEM. Her responses go like this: “I’m trans, but one of the good ones.” What does that even mean? Like, she’s got outstanding morals? She had an excellent surgery? She’s lawful good? I don’t know. She assured a different persona that she does know how to use a spellchecker, and that I should “email her bcak.”
Sigh.
I also logged into okcupid, but there’s not much to report. A few messages from a chick I’d been kind of thinking about going out with (she’s a massage therapist. I would be stupid to turn her down! And maybe that makes me a bad person, but I am currently sitting on a goddamn tennis ball because I was told it would relieve the pressure on my sciatic nerve. I am twenty-seven. I am too young to sleep with heating pads and sit on tennis balls. Therefore, I should date massage therapists. I’m sure that makes sense.) who I should probably write and tell her I got pneumonia and don’t hate her. A few messages from a guy I was sort of thinking about maybe going out with. He’s the one I found kind of refreshing, who just wrote to say he liked my profile and found me attractive and wanted to take me out sometime. But he’s also unemployed and a total slacker, and see above re: my being 27. I’m past the point where I’m okay dating unemployed slackers. I do not require my dates to own their own house or anything, but I don’t think a job is too much to ask. A plan? A degree? I don’t know. Maybe I’m getting snobby in my old age. Not that I wasn’t just as much of a snot ten years ago.
In other news, The Ex tells me he thinks Epancimation Man has a woman. Apparently a tired-looking Easten European woman has been spotted walking the pug in the mornings. Sometimes she is walking the pug with Epancimation Man himself. EM did write to me mere days before I got this information, though, so perhaps Tired Chick is not really the woman of his dreams. Maybe she’s just a pugsitter!
And, yeah, okay, maybe that entire paragraph was just an excuse to say “pugsitter.” Clearly it’s far too late for me to be up. Bed now.
Posted by luckless 
