I think I may have figured out the root cause of the central issue of the dating portion of my life. What is the central issue, you ask? Well, the central issue is that dating blows. It blows hard core.
You might be wondering how something as potentially fun as dating could blow hard core. Well, I’ll tell ya how: I’ve been dumped twice so far in 2008.
Yes, twice. Um, yeah, I know it’s only April.
Two times in less than four months makes it almost seem like I’m trying or something, doesn’t it? Well, I’m not. It’s my life’s overarching theme: the less I try at something (like getting dumped) the better I am at it, and the more I try at something (like *not* getting dumped) the more I suck.
Anyway, focus, Kiki. Focus. Central issue … the root cause. Right.
So, my big dating revelation came by way of a joke I found on the Internet. (I’m pretty sure jokes are supposed to make you laugh, but this one made me weep a little … salty tears of bitter recognition.)
A man was crossing a road one day when a frog called out to him and said, “If you kiss me, I’ll turn into a beautiful princess.” He bent over, picked up the frog and put it in his pocket.
The frog spoke up again and said, “If you kiss me and turn me back into a beautiful princess, I will stay with you for one week.”
The man took the frog out of his pocket, smiled at it and returned it to the pocket.
The frog then cried out, “If you kiss me and turn me back into a princess, I’ll stay with you and do anything you want.” Again, the man took the frog out, smiled at it and put it back into his pocket.
Finally, the frog asked, “What’s the matter? I’ve told you I’m a beautiful princess, that I’ll stay with you for a week and do anything you want. Why won’t you kiss me?”
The man said, “Look, I’m a software engineer. I don’t have time for a girlfriend, but a talking frog is cool.”
You could easily swap out “software engineer” with “sys admin” or “info designer” or dozens of other geeky professions, and the joke would be just as … er, funny. The point is WTH is wrong with geeks? Why do they not recognize a perfectly good female unit when they see one? Why do they have so little time when they mostly do nothing? Why do they say so little when you know perfectly well there’s a lot going on upstairs? And, last but not least, given ALL this, why do they have to smell so damned good?
BAH.
I’m going to rewrite the joke from the point of view of the frog. I think it might involve a big Mack truck or something … I’m still working out the details.
I feel you…It’s a difficult pull. The ladies, or the one passion that never leaves, yet demands the most (work).
Sometimes the passion would like to leave, but how *can* we when you have us stuffed in your pockets?