Here we go! Let’s set the bar super low. I’m nervous to write because now I have followers I don’t even know and they’re funny. I feel like I used to write funnier. Or maybe I just used to bottle myself up more. Maybe all flaws are actually signs of growth. Which reminds me, I never learned how to talk to girls.
I was in a relationship for almost all of college. Is that the time of life when you’re supposed to learn how to date? Or was that high school, when I spent my time brooding in the piano room after school and then going home to play Maplestory on my laptop in secret? (I’m exaggerating how much Maplestory I played growing up but I won’t say by how much!) College for me was the series of four years when I learned people think I’m socially awkward and being socially awkward is charming, and my friends learned that I’m not really socially awkward or charming. Which of course wouldn’t stop me from saying things like “I think I’m pretty charming,” which I still say. The thing is, I’m not sure if I really believe it given how afraid I am to start dating again.
I am proud as shit that I haven’t signed up for any dating apps. Truthfully, and for no good reason. I’m also about as lonely as I am proud. Actually, probably a little less lonely than proud. I did preemptively brainstorm a Coffee Meets Bagel profile description for myself:
“a freak in the sheets and a freak on the streets.
just looking for a girl who reminds me of my dad
or at least will touch my butt.”
I think that’s as funny as I am lonely. Actually I think it’s funnier than I am lonely but less than I am proud. My brain wonders if there’s a girl in the world who thinks that’s funny and then my other brain high-roads my first brain by reminding it that girls are just people. Then my two brains totally make out. Which reminds me of a time someone asked me if I would date the female version of myself and I said, in fewer words, “double yes.” Apparently that’s the wrong answer because people “often drive themselves insane when alone” and “you need someone who complements you, not someone who magnifies you.” On the other hand, “we could touch butts.”
I told my friend Rosita that I want to hire an actor to object at my wedding and then perform an elaborate choreographed sword fight with me ending in his death. She said she’s sure my future wife will think the idea is hilarious and I told her I don’t want a wife who will think it’s hilarious, I want a wife who will hide that she thinks its hilarious and then tell me it’s stupid as fuck. I think I learned that’s what I want because of you.
Which reminds me. I’m sorry I didn’t write more nice things about you here. I get to go back and read all the nice things you wrote when we were together but I never wrote any poems and the only song I wrote about you was about breaking up. There are a lot of nice things to say about you, and I know that I said some of them in our Hangouts chat. Maybe it can be a sign of growth instead of me romanticizing the past or wallowing to say some of them here: that you’re extraordinary, the kindest person I knew well enough to be sure that the kindness was true and deep, funny (but not as funny as I am proud), and beautiful. I listened to our cover of Lost Boy last night on loop as I fell asleep and I think it sounds delightful. I’m glad that we recorded it even though we didn’t have a good microphone and you made a face when we played it back. Maybe when I’m ready to date again the next girl will have a better microphone we can use? Oh I also just realized. Your birthday is really soon. I promise I will send you the real Real Book, I’m still working on getting yours and Deepak’s bindings. (File this under posts-that-accidentally-devolve-into-second-person.)