The 25 Year Drought

To conform with standard blog practice, I'm going to write an emo post tonight.

Among my circle of friends, it's a well established fact that there are but three certainties in life:

1. Death
2. Taxes
3. My inability to get a date

So for them, I play a constant. A reference point by which they are reminded the horrors of bachelorhood, should they go wayward in their own relationships. That has been my role for the past quarter century.

After much introspection (having no social life gives ample time for that), I've discovered the root of the problem. As the kids say, "I got no game." I figure it's resultant from my two major weaknesses: A pretty smile and a knee to the groin (strangely enough, they go hand in hand). Over the past few years, I've learned that excess preponderence of this condition leads to self doubt, which leads to anxiety, leading to social awkwardness, which then further perpetuates my situation. It usually manifests itself through subtle behavioral tics such as reduced speech capacity, lack of coordination, and an overall creepy disposition.

So if I ask a pretty girl:
"Hey, would you like to go for a coffee?"

It comes out sounding like:
"Hur Hur. Wanna check out my crawl space? you can fit like, 10 bodies in there."
*heavy breathing*

-or-

"Want to take a ride in my trunk?"

-or-

"I love you"

It's not that I'm a bad guy. Or at least I don't think I am. I just get stupid around the ladies.

In a nutshell, the "25 year drought" is the ongoing trainwreck that is my social life. One cannot help but watch with morbid fascination as the carnage unfolds.

Thus concludes my obligatory emo post. Regularly scheduled postings will commence shortly.

Thank you for your patience.

Management