Love Labor's Lost

volumes of mis-adventures

I Want Simple.

Reading signs. Recognizing glances. Realizing an interest. When did it all become so complicated? Or, am I finally just catching up. I want something organic, natural, without force. I’ve been on OKCupid since the middle of the summer and between the forty year-old men ignoring my preferential age statement: between 24 and 29, sending me uncomfortable messages, and the Nigerian, Indian, Louisianian foreigners who call me “a queen,” “a diamond,” “ a breathtaking beauty,” I’ve made little progress in the date world. Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but really? No. Then there’s the motorcycle collector, the abdominal exhibitionist,  and the Segway tour guy, they are all perfectly nice, but we have nothing in common, so stop trying to force conversation. And finally, the sex-driven, perpetually disgusting, might-as-well-be-a-sex-offender suitor who just won’t suit anyone. The sea of crazies that compile OKC, also includes myself, but I don’t want it. I don’t like scrolling through an endless number of profiles where someone is supposedly 98% compatible with me, but they have no job, or desire to get a job, living in someone’s basement, o and did I mention he is 29? I get that we all come with baggage, and we all come with undesirable attributes, and I’m trying to look past them, but I want it to be simple.

Why can’t the guy I’ve been working with, the guy who is the cutest ginger I’ve ever met, a fellow Iowa alum, a member of the tribe, a transplant to Chicago, a witty, intelligent, interesting, and driven twenty-something, that mentioned: “wow, we really have a lot in common,” just ask for my number and want to converse outside of our marketing shift?

Why can’t the guy who started texting me a year ago, after purposefully acquiring my phone number from a mutual friend actually commit to getting together?

Why can’t that guy studying across from me in the coffee shop, the guy talking to himself, clearly memorizing something, an intelligent looking twenty-something talk to me? We’ve been coming to the same place on the same day for weeks now. I know we’ve made eye contact, we’ve even spoken, “sorry I didn’t mean to eves-drop, but where do you go to med. school around here?” “Rosalind Franklin School of Medicine,” he replied with a simple, not too teethy smile, and a proud eager glimmer in his vibrant blue eyes. “Oh, cool, I didn’t know there was a med school around here.” (I totally did). Why couldn’t that have been the simple beginning to something perfect? Why can’t the countless people I see at my various reading, grading, and studying locations be the people that encompass my love life or lack there of.

The OK”sea” is drowning my optimism. There are a whole lot of weirdos (to be fair, I’m sure there are normal ones as well) online, and I don’t think I’m ready to be one of them.  One of these days, I dream, nay, fantasize, that I’ll start talking to someone and it won’t just end with a smile and both of us returning to our tasks, but continue, flourish even, and turn into a blossoming conversation and an exchange of phone numbers. That seems simple right?

So, why does it all have to be so difficult?


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