8.30.11 - 9.3.11
And then there was bronchitis.
My little darlings, I hope you never have to experience bronchitis. Never having had it before, I had no idea of what to expect. Let me tell you, it sucks all things wretched and also is not much fun.
Being the gracious and magnificent woman that I am, of course, I am handling the illness with poise and equanimity and have only threatened bodily harm on the people with whom I have less than no patience (when I'm sick) once or twice. Out loud, anyway. In my head, whole bloody wars have been waged.
9.4.11
I can almost breathe. T'would be nice to bid a hearty adieu to being ill sometime before the 15th, as I am off to Spain on the 16th. ... I guess we'll see.
9.5.11
Okay, so, let's actually take a look at the boys, since this isn't supposed to be a "MelZo's sick and constantly whining about it" foray into the online world. In theory, at one point, this was about online dating, wasn't it?
Well, the thing is... I'm not even talking to anyone online at the moment. The guys I was talking to before have either met someone or decided that there's nothing doing with me. One of them said he's "not looking for friendship," which is totally reasonable - but somewhat disappointing at the same time. Because this is the one that I was talking the most with, and seemed to have the best rapport with.
I'd have hung out with him, even without any feelings of attraction. But alas, once he realized that there was very little chance of hooking up, he became somewhat less congenial. Kind of an ass, actually. C'est la vie.
9.6.11
I give up. I think that between this foray and the longer one in '09, I've proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that online dating isn't for everyone. I know it works for some people, clearly - friends and family can attest to that - but evidently not for this chica. Plus, I've been inundated lately with a bunch of forwards and spams letting me know that if I just forward the e-mail to thirty-two-point-eight-billion people in the next four-point-two seconds, my true love will realize he loves me, at midnight TONIGHT!
omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg
... Oh. Wait. That's right. He doesn't exist.
As I am neither 11 years old nor trusting of the people who forward these messages - the same who, way back in the day, used to forward the messages that Bill Gates HISOWNSELF would write me a cheque for eleventy-billion dollars if I forwarded it toute de suite - these e-mails get deleted as a matter of course.
Hrm.
Anyways, perhaps someday I'll actually take the initiative and go out and meet people, but I make no promises. I can't even give you a timeline!
I'll not be healthy enough by Saturday to donate blood (which is what I had planned to do for my birthday and honestly the highlight of my social calendar), and next Friday I'm off to Spain for a little while. Before you even think it, I'm traveling with my parents and my little sister. There will be no amor hermoso o amor breve (lol, perhaps I should quit butchering other languages... Je m'excuse) on this trip.
On the plus side, since I seem to find myself with a hell of a lot of alone time at home these days, perhaps I'll actually get some writing done...
I had a regular customer at my coffee shop once who begged me to reconsider being a writer. Not because he had anything against my writing - he had in point of fact not read any of it - but because he thought I would take to the solitary life too easily and with too much abandon.
What can I say?
I will have romance, and I will have love, and I will have stupid dorky moments and lay-in-bed-reading-the-paper moments, and I-can't-breathe moments, and all that silliness. It just turns out that my experience will be in writing it, rather than necessarily living it.
Everyone has a Cinderella story - it's just that some of us play the role of Gus the mouse. ;)
MelZo, signing off. (again)
