Dating is just... terrible. It's just terrible.
I'm not talking about exclusive dating situations or long-term relationships where you're basically married only without the tax benefits and are just as emotionally screwed when a fight has to be had over who gets the writing desk. Those still have safe, comfy routines. Routines that can be broken and shatter your entire reality, but you have them. Same with being single and not dating; you feel comfortable with coming home from work and eating a dinner of microwave popcorn and Fannie Mae chocolates in front of marathons of whatever horrible sitcom you watch.
But dating, at least for me, is just kind of awful. People are trying to put their best foot forward, which is pretty much always a foot that doesn't even exist. They saw a foot once and thought, "I bet ladies are into THAT," and fashioned themselves a peg leg to stick out the bottom of their trench coat. And then you find out that it's not even a human under the trench coat, but twenty squirrels sitting on each other's shoulders. Then me and this squirrelman play laser tag, only instead of wearing the awkward little harness with the target that allows you to be "shot", the squirrelman has fashioned one out of cardboard so I'm the one taking all the shots while mine do absolutely nothing to him.
And this is all just a metaphor, so it's not like I can just go around kicking dudes in the shin to check for a hollow, wooden sound. I can't simply chuck the laser gun at his head when I realize the hit pad is just drawn on with felt marker.
This is all a ridiculous way for me to illustrate the exhaustion of filtering through fake people with faker personas and how they fake emotional availability while I'm basically streaking through the dating world naked and with the worst hair day ever. I'm on one end of the spectrum where I didn't get the memo that we are all just going to bullshit each other until we get the sex, street cred, or snack cakes or whatever we came for. I actually want to meet other real people and have feelings for one, and do so as the real me. Even in normal life I'm forward to a fault, falling just short of texting "excuse me" to my texting partner if I fart in my own house miles away from them.
It's not to say there aren't real humans among the squirrelmen. There are just a surprising number of highly intelligent super squirrels that want to experience a weak semblance of human relationships.
And I'm nutty, so I am total squirrelbait.
(I'm very happy that I've now used the term squirrelman enough that autocorrect corrects squirrelmen to squirrelman.)
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