Nothing From Nothing Leaves Nothing

From Ari Goes Down:

There should exist a thing in the entire world that I give a damn about.

But there isn’t.

It is not the job. It is not the man. It is not the family. It is not the hobby nor the passion.

First of all; how can that be?
Second of all; aw… poor little me how sad that it is. Sarcasm folks.

Saturday afternoon found me in New Jersey at a – get this – 60th wedding anniversary party. 60 years. 60 years!! These people have been married nearly double my lifetime. Decades I haven’t even lived yet! Incomprehensible. In other news, my great-uncle is Canadian, I have no idea how I never knew that before and furthermore my cousin gave his two sons the stupidest names I have heard and if they weren’t so unique I would share them with you. But I can’t. Because they are so individually stupid. And unique.

But I digress. It sucks that I can’t have a 60th wedding anniversary. That I can’t share with someone all that these two have shared. This couple, my great aunt and uncle, well into their late 80’s are by far the cutest of old couples. They have three kids and six grandchildren. At the rate that I’m going I’ll be happy if my mom meets her grandchildren much less ever gets to be a great granny. Sorry mom but unless futuristic medicine intervenes I just don’t see it happening.

And it wouldn’t irritate me so fucking much if I thought there was even a shot in hell that the guy I’m looking for exists. But argh. He doesn’t and I know it. I’ve met my own random guys. I’ve met my friend’s friends. I’ve met the guys on jdate. With the rarest of exceptions, they are all the same guy. They rent sad, undecorated, little apartments in outer boroughs or, inexplicably enough, in suburbs. They are an average age of 41. Their social skills are nil. They have one highly antisocial cat. They work mid level jobs and are dull as corpses. They have a sparse interest in sports, pop culture or anything negligible making me wonder if there’s anything capturing their collective interest besides internet porn and serial dating. And here’s the worst part; they’re all 0’s waiting on 10’s. As if. I may be fat and ugly but at least I’m not boring. But these fellas. Christ, you have no idea. It’s so bad it’s actually pretty funny. They are pale, boring, broke and uninspiring. That sucks, yes, but here’s where the funny part arrives – as awful as they are – they are waiting for diamonds. These literal definitions of schlubs think they’re bidding their time with the me’s of the world until Gisele, Scarlett, Kiera, Lindsay or Jessica (pick your poison: Simpson, Biel, Alba) show up. Now, when this is the experience with one out of every ten guys then sure, fine, fair enough. But when it’s one out of ten that’s actually different and interesting? That makes you want to shave your legs and buy new bras. Well hell, it’s discouraging but I hope it also means that finding him will ultimately kick ass.

I know that I’m at the age where the pickins start to get a little knotty. I understand that for the most part I’m sifting through the bargain bin of the species and I’m going to get the damaged, slightly irregulars. But hey, I’m in the bin and I’m not that fucked up. I’ve got plenty of unfucked up friends in the bin with me too. Unfucked up – that’s right I said it. These aren’t crazy girls with monster issues and fat asses – these are slim, attractive girls with hobbies and interests and wits. So where are our male counter parts?