The unbearable lightness of being single.
There is a movie that came out in the 80’s that I got suckerede into seeing called the Unbearable Lightness of Being. (When a woman sporting a G-cup bra asks you to go see an erotic movie, your penis suddenly has an open social calendar.)
Director Phillip Kaufman basically held me hostage for 2 FUCKING HOURS and 51 minutes.
Not only was it not an erotic movie as promised, there was no happy ending, on screen or off on that fated evening.
Even a sloppy handjob would have been at least a bandaid in this situation.
The only thing the movie did for me was to depress me and push me into a suicidal whiny morass that pooched my evening and several evenings to follow.
It was hands down, the most depressingly shitty tale ever told, like Sylvia Platt during the come down from a meth binge, like right before her teeth fell out.
The internet is supposed to make dating easier.
Instead you have an ocean of choices when all you want is a cup kept to yourself.
Think of cable tv.
We now have several hundred channels to watch, and yet, there is nothing on.
Same thing with dating.
And both dating and cable tv have gone up ridiculously in price over the years.
But, while flipping channels, if you do happen to catch daytime reality tv, you get to see the most bizarre couple combinations humanity has to offer.
So is that the only options left?
To find some sort of Jerry Springer green room contestant?
Maybe the illusion is the normal life and the real normal life is the freak show?
Never been a fan of freak shows, despite my limited exposure to it.
I have disarmed a mad woman in the dead of night.
I have been accused of impregnating a woman I never had sex with.
Same woman claimed I asked for her hand in marriage, which never happened. (Her entire argument was that I had implied it.)
A totally different woman tried to talk me into financing a murder.
Any decent psychologist would ask “Who are you punishing here?”
If it was just one freak show, I could see it.
But 4 separate freak shows?
They are obviously not the problem.
It has to be me.
I am Nipsy Russell from the Wiz.
“The genius who created me only took care of my dashing good looks, my
razor-sharp wit and my irresistible attraction to the wrong women,”
We will ignore the lack of a heart thing, it kind of goes without saying.
So, if I cannot trust myself with finding the right woman, the only other solution is to leave it to karma.
Karma and I have a bit of history together.
I am still firmly of the opinion that karma is lazy and pretty much only shows up when it feels like it, if at all.
The idea of giving up seems counter productive, but there comes a point in any journey that when you hit a dead end you have to admit that the journey is over.
Giving up it is.
Somebody recently asked me about all of the hiking I am doing.
And it suddenly hit me that I am occupying my time.
And knowing me, it makes perfect sense that I found a hobby that includes a lot of time for reflection.
This is the mental version of pouring a mix of salt and lemon juice on a cut.
But there is almost a peace in the idea of giving up.
The unbearable lightness of dating.