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On a sunny winter day, a new friend came over and we worked in the yard. As we excavated three months' worth of weeds, we talked about relationship stuff and she asked questions that unearthed some hibernating assumptions inside me.
Honestly, I had sorta given up on meeting a romantic someone. She and I discussed the unnaturalness of online dating but that really, that was the best way to meet men who were also looking to connect.
My friend was so kind and complimentary that after awhile, I started to wonder why I hadn't again attempted online dating sooner. Besides the timing was good. I'd recently gone to an event where they'd taken pictures. And I now had the...
Full of confidence and optimism, I created an online profile....
...added my best picture ever
...and in the first week
....got pretty much no responses.
I find that in situations where I feel rejected, dejected and like a complete loser, the best thing to do is to compare myself unfavorably.
So I thought of my friend who had recently tried online dating and found success in a week.
After a week in the match.com Sahara, I gave up.
{Ed. note: The pictures reenacting this week - sitting on the couch eating Chicken in a Biskit crackers, then lying on the couch recovering from said crackers were too depressing to include.}
I know there's a formula to find your person. Online dating? Friends of friends? Leaving your house? All of the above? I just don't know how to crack it.
Within a few days, I began to recover. I realized it's not a black-and-white proposition: just because I'm single doesn't mean my existence has less meaning.
The best way to describe it is this: being by myself is like sleeping without a pillow. I still have a cozy bed, but having a pillow would add a bit more cushion, comfort.
One of my close friends is single and says all the time that she's okay being single; she loves her life. She is also my only friend that won't live anywhere that she needs to own a coat. However, she happens to love Chicago, but the no-coat rule eliminates the possibility of her living there.
This reminded me, for a long time, whenever I'd stay as a guest at someone else's house, I'd always refuse a pillow: "Oh no, I don't like them. I'm really okay without one."
If I was Carrie Bradshaw (which I am gladly not and I'm sorry I have to invoke her name, but I am apparently channeling her), I would say 'Are we single ladies because we have learned to live without coats and pillows?'
Eileen
Ferocious Introvert is an illustrated blog / drawing diary coming out of Oakland, CA
