Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Consider this post the sounding of an alarm

I have lost my magic touch in picking decent strangers to meet in bars. For whatever reason, be it desperation, poor judgment, or coincidental fluke, I have had a string of regrettable dates of late. I've grown so lackadaisical in my choices for companions that instead of enjoyable nights on the town, I am again and again engaged in trying social situations.

A dating solider wounded psychologically, I question my will to continue putting myself through these battles.

When you know in the first moment your date will not meet the industry standard definition of success, why is that moment not the appropriate moment to cut out?

Admittedly, I can be confused for stretches of five to ten minutes at a time regarding what I feel about the evening I am having and the person I am with. I don’t know what is the way to be, and what is the thing to say. When I do finally manage to cut out, I do so without deft. I suffer empathetic pangs of grief for my companions victimized by the mixed signals I know I am so capable of giving.

At least I think I might feel bad.

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