Yesterday, while at work, a break room conversation broke out (see what I did there?) about relationships (surprise) and, specifically, how I’m the only employee not in one (surprise again). My coworker suggested that I put up a personal ad on The Stranger’s LoveLab, implying that I would garner a very large amount of dates this way.
I then expounded on my thought that I would be the person least qualified to write a personal ad for me, reasoning that, of everyone that knows me, I know myself the least. And frankly, I’m biased. We all are. We all have this hope that we’re the best possible person we could be and I know that, despite my grandest delusions, I am not. So, by my twisted logic, if I were to write a personal ad it would be filled with details about me that I have cherry picked and described in English sentences which naturally ends up being an embellishment and making me feel fraudulent (which fraudulent feelings alone—let me tell you—is a can of worms you do not want me to open).
And anyway my supervisor says, “Have someone else do it for you!” This I feel is a great idea. The people around me in all likelihood know me better than I do. They’ve experienced me being a dick to them probably at some point in our interactions and I have not (despite what some might say, I think being a dick is like tickling: it’s not possible to do it to yourself) and could probably paint a better portrait of who I am than I.
In thinking about this whole business of Internet dating, while at work I tweet about my reservations in trying it: do I want the humiliation associated with appearing in a personal ad and then the risk of either getting a date or not getting a date from it (both entail their own sets of issues, practical and existential)? Cut to later in the day: my good friend Zane replies to my tweet urging me to put up an ad, saying he was “totally considering putting an ad for [me] on Craigslist the other day.” Oh, gosh. While I appreciate the coincident nature of the whole situation, it’s slightly harder to appreciate that I know so many people right now that want to hook me up with someone (anyone more likely) which I can only imagine is to shut me up finally about the whole thing.
I guess the moral of the story is that recently it’s experiences like these that are teaching me how healthy this time alone is for me. I mean, did you just read the last three paragraphs? There’s some serious self-loathing-thinly-disguised-as-self-depricating-humor going on up there. I spend so much time talking about relationships only because I’m trying to derive meaning from experience through language (I’m only an undergraduate liberal arts academic for a couple more weeks, let me have my moment, OK?). That doesn’t mean I’m actually ready for one. While I’m always down to meet new people, dating just seems like this weird, foreign thing right now.
So, in the meantime, if you have anyone in mind feel free to send her my way, though probably nothing will come of it. I will simply respect her, treat her as a human being, then fuck the shit out of her.
Just kidding. Unless, as Nelly says, [she's] gon’ do it.
Internet Dating and the Concept of the Self
Yesterday, while at work, a break room conversation broke out (see what I did there?) about relationships (surprise) and, specifically, how I’m the only employee not in one (surprise again). My coworker suggested that I put up a personal ad on The Stranger’s LoveLab, implying that I would garner a very large amount of dates this way.
I then expounded on my thought that I would be the person least qualified to write a personal ad for me, reasoning that, of everyone that knows me, I know myself the least. And frankly, I’m biased. We all are. We all have this hope that we’re the best possible person we could be and I know that, despite my grandest delusions, I am not. So, by my twisted logic, if I were to write a personal ad it would be filled with details about me that I have cherry picked and described in English sentences which naturally ends up being an embellishment and making me feel fraudulent (which fraudulent feelings alone—let me tell you—is a can of worms you do not want me to open).
And anyway my supervisor says, “Have someone else do it for you!” This I feel is a great idea. The people around me in all likelihood know me better than I do. They’ve experienced me being a dick to them probably at some point in our interactions and I have not (despite what some might say, I think being a dick is like tickling: it’s not possible to do it to yourself) and could probably paint a better portrait of who I am than I.
In thinking about this whole business of Internet dating, while at work I tweet about my reservations in trying it: do I want the humiliation associated with appearing in a personal ad and then the risk of either getting a date or not getting a date from it (both entail their own sets of issues, practical and existential)? Cut to later in the day: my good friend Zane replies to my tweet urging me to put up an ad, saying he was “totally considering putting an ad for [me] on Craigslist the other day.” Oh, gosh. While I appreciate the coincident nature of the whole situation, it’s slightly harder to appreciate that I know so many people right now that want to hook me up with someone (anyone more likely) which I can only imagine is to shut me up finally about the whole thing.
I guess the moral of the story is that recently it’s experiences like these that are teaching me how healthy this time alone is for me. I mean, did you just read the last three paragraphs? There’s some serious self-loathing-thinly-disguised-as-self-depricating-humor going on up there. I spend so much time talking about relationships only because I’m trying to derive meaning from experience through language (I’m only an undergraduate liberal arts academic for a couple more weeks, let me have my moment, OK?). That doesn’t mean I’m actually ready for one. While I’m always down to meet new people, dating just seems like this weird, foreign thing right now.
So, in the meantime, if you have anyone in mind feel free to send her my way, though probably nothing will come of it. I will simply respect her, treat her as a human being, then fuck the shit out of her.
Just kidding. Unless, as Nelly says, [she's] gon’ do it.