So I've got to get back on OKC soon, for the three month window to work out before the Boat. Very soon.
Only -- I don't really want to. It's a huge pain in the ass, and knowing what waits for me on the other side -- checking in numerous times a day, only to be met with rejection, depression, and despondency -- who would be eager? And if the last couple rounds are anything to go by, there's dick all in the Hamilton talent pool. Still, what other options are out there?
I'd much rather that someone sign me up, do the profile, and just hand over the keys. Scratch that -- I enjoy the creative writing aspect, but I am set back knowing that the more I am myself, the more I lessen my chances. At a certain point, edating success just becomes another reflection of ordinary reality.
Looking at the calendar, I know my anniversary of singledom is coming up soon -- Superbowl Sunday. Another one. And Valentine's quickly after, where everything is a reminder of how I've FAILED AT THIS ONE VERY IMPORTANT THING THAT EVERYONE ELSE HAS MANAGED TO DO.
Luckily, I have my fakebook friends to vet the profile, when it actually happens. My actual friends are no good at that stuff, frankly, as they actually know me.
It'll happen. It's just that it's always easier to come up with another excuse, like everything else. I need to psych myself up, only it's more and more difficult to do that each time you go on.
Superbowl, man. I hate it. Valentine's, man. I hate it.