DELETE, DELETE, DELETE

There's an expression, "In order to make an omelet, you have to break a few eggs." Plenty of people have waxed sentimental about the necessity of destruction as part of creation, of wiping the slate clean to start over properly.

Well, I am on my way to a delicious omelet this week. Western, perhaps?

Part of this was motivated by a recent "person" doing something so incredibly insulting and selfish that it made me want to go to his apartment (with which I am quite familiar, having spent many nights there, no matter what he told his new girlfriend, THANKYOUVERYMUCH) and punch him in his stupid lying face. But because I like my freedom and I don't really believe in actual violence, I refrained. Instead, I did some deleting. Any connections to him online? DELETED. His phone number? Oh, the joy in seeing the question "Delete XXXXX?" on my phone. YES.

But I also got to thinking about some other people in my life, with whom I had relationships that were not so contentious and dysfunctional, but certainly were a bit complicated. And somehow, my fiery rage motivated me to look at those situations and be more honest about them. The results? I've destroyed some safety nets. I deleted the parts of those relationships that were making things complicated for me (in one case) or for him (in the other case).

And then I deleted myself from online dating completely.

I'll go back eventually, but for now I am not in the right head space for any of it. While this means I'll have nothing to write about for a while, I hope it also means that I can focus on rebuilding.

Nothing Is Scarier Than a Clown

 From the inbox of the Queen...


"So there's this kid, six years old, adorable but a little vulnerable, and it's his birthday. He's in his room, squint-grinning at the mirror and putting on his favorite shirt, his bright red Birthday Shirt. He's been saving it for today. He heads downstairs, where all his friends from school are playing, eating cake, pinning the odd donkey tail... whatever it is six-year-olds do in herds. He makes it to the bottom of the stairs, and slaps Jake a behind-the-back snapoff and a quick jab to the shoulder as the doorbell rings. It's the clown! He asked his mom for a clown at his party, and she went and ordered the best clown in town, because she's that great a mom. He's barely got the knob turned when the clown bursts in-- giant shoes, weirdly glossed eyes and a pleasant bulge around the waist (for the sake of the craft). He's a regular Pagliacci. The clown taps out a double-time reel in the oldest and finest of traditions of professional asses and squeaks out, "Hey! It's your birthday! Happy birthday! Isn't this great? Oh! You must be the birthday boy. Look at you, with your bright red shirt! Whadda think you are, some kind of a... tomato?" The boy squints a bit, doesn't say anything. He sort of sulks for the rest of the party, like he just can't get into the flow of it anymore. The clown leaves like he came in, his friends all go home, and the kid kinda sulks his way through the rest of school. Fastforward, the kid's in high school. Not too many friends, but he joins the improv team and he's brilliant. He gobbles up every award they've got, he's president of the club by his second year. The teach in charge wants to send him to Nationals, but he won't have any of it. He graduates and goes to Comeback College, full ride. Finishes summa cum laud. After college, he goes to the Himalayas. He climbs to the top of the highest mountain, where he trains under The Guru. After a year, the Guru raises his hand and says "my son, you have a response to every word from my mouth, a riposte to each retort and more devastating, more creative counter-repostes than I have ever imagined. You could crush a man's spirit in three lines of banter. You are ready."  So the kid, now a man, descends the mountain and returns home, to his mother's house. He calls up all his old friends from elementary school. They haven't heard from him in over a decade, but they were friends and damn but they were curious. They all come to his birthday party. He hires a clown, the best clown in town. It's the same clown. The kid is in his room before the party. All his friends are downstairs, killing six packs and Halo critters... whatever it is twenty-somethings do in herds. He puts on his favorite shirt, his bright red Birthday Shirt, saved in his drawer all this time, and goes downstairs to answer the door. The clown bursts in! His big shoes are a little worn, he's grinning under bloodshot eyes, and his waistline is a little beyond standard for the craft. He's a regular Punchinello. "Hey! Happy birthday! It's this great? Oh! You must be the birthday boy. Look at you, with your bright red shirt! Whadda think you are, some kind of a... tomato?" The kid, he's ready. The pressures of the last decade roll off his shoulders and he feels as light and free as a six-year-old. He's in the zone. He looks the clown in the eye, squints a bit, and the old man's routine falters-- the clown misses a beat. He takes a quick breath, straightens up and lets it flow. The kid says, "FUCK YOU, CLOWN!"

AAAAAAND ice broken! Hi, I'm *****: intrepid adventurer, sometimes swept by (potentially endearing?) absurdist moods. How are you? If you're still reading, I really hope you hadn't heard that one already! If you're half so awesome as you sound, I really hope you'll say hi. Plus, I have a new ZOMBIE BOARD GAME with your name on it. How many people do you think it would take, spread surreptitiously through the car, to get a whole train singing "Hey Jude"?"

Whaaaaaa? I was told there would be no actual clowns in online dating. Nothing is scarier than a clown.


Also, I'm exhausted just reading this. All in all, it's fairly entertaining in a strange way. I just...Where do you go from an epic clown story?!

Sir, please lay off the caffiene.

Why do men think I'm a dominatrix?

I do love Betty Page...

"How are you doing? My name is *****, and I am writing you because I would like to find someone who might have some interest in having a servant. I am interested in pursuing this arrangement on a long term 2 or 3 time a week basis, and I promise that you will not regret it if you give me a chance.

I am honestly looking for a someone like yourself who might be interested in having someone like me who would like nothing more than to cook, clean, do dishes, laundry, chores, run errands, or even give manicures and pedicures. I am pretty handy to have around the house, I can fix things pretty well and am not bad at organization either.

This is not about sex in any way, and I have had this arrangement in the past and I feel like it has worked out pretty well for those who have been willing to take advantage of it. And just to stress this... This is completely legit and I am 100% serious. I could be extremely useful to you if you were just willing to consider it.

Please think about it, and please know that just being able to talk to you would be a privilege in my book."

My first thought was, "That would be so useful!"

My second thought, "Ah, he can write in full sentences!"

Which was then followed by..."Why do I keep getting messages like this?!"

Perhaps I should pursue a new career plan?

Fellow bloggers, you know me...What's the deal? 

Lacking in Comprehesion

"FUCK YOU. Do not call me again." 

What part of that above sentence says to you..."You know, I bet she'd really like to go out again! I had such a great time chasing her down a hallway after she stormed out of my apartment, I think I'd like to see her over dinner again! Perhaps she will toast me for my ability to get her into a sitcom-esque situation in my apartment! Perhaps she will just laugh off the fact that I ROYALLY PISSED HER OFF only on our 3rd date! Wahoo! I hear wedding bells!" 

Seriously though, the guy from Wednesday evening has asked me to go out with him 4 more times. He texted me the next day, asking "So, are we still on for Saturday?"

Uh, let me think...NO. I don't date liars, thanks.

"Well, I explained. So, we should go out again. As I said, my ex/roommate and I had a pact not ever to bring back other dates. And, it was very embarrassing for me to have broken that."

I'm so sorry YOU were embarrassed! Poor, poor you! When your explanation for the evening's events proves you have little regard for other people's feelings, mine or your ex's, I absolutely do not want to go out with you again.

Then..."Hey, let me know if you'd like to get together tomorrow!" 

WHY? WHY does he not understand?  


Then a bit later...


"It's your call. However, if you change your mind, let me know. It was really fun hanging out with you and I'd like to see you again. I'd love to go out again tomorrow!" 


UGH.

A Public Service Annoucement

Read it, bitches.

A public service announcement brought to you by the Queen. 

Attention! Are you an attractive man who boldly asks out the ladies whilst they are blithely going about their daily lives? Do you take said ladies out on epic dates, paying them careful attention and wittily exchanging amusing stories? Do you make future plans with the ladies? Do you talk about how trust and the truth are important parts of a relationship?

Do you lure the ladies back to your place after several dates with the promise of wine with the added benefit of superior kissing skills?


DO YOU THEN LIE TO THE LADIES ABOUT YOUR LIVING SITUATION, LEADING SAID LADIES TO EXPERIENCE THE MOST AWKWARD EVENING OF THEIR LIVES ONCE THEY REALIZE YOU LIVE WITH YOUR EX-GIRLFRIEND STILL? DO YOU LET YOUR EX-GIRLFRIEND GLARE AT YOUR NEW LADY FRIENDS FROM THE KITCHEN WHILE YOU DESPERATELY PANTOMIME AT SAID NICE LADIES THAT THEY WOULD QUICKLY EXIT YOUR DOMICILE BEFORE THINGS GET BAD? 

Do you then follow the utterly confused and PISSED OFF ladies down the hallway, saying you can explain...and then refusing to explain when confronted? 

If so, you are a callow, contemptible man-child , deserving nothing but misery and loneliness. 

Thank you, 

The Queen

Quiz Time!

Alright, dear readers. If you'd like to play, just read the message below, and then tell me in the comments how many dates you think this gentleman and I had been on before he sent me this. (Small edits have been made to make this more of a challenge, but the sentiment remains as-is.)

Hi *****,

Sorry I was out of touch for so long. You seem really amazing and wonderful and...just a little bit too late -- I started going on some dates with someone else, and it's gotten serious. I hope that you find someone who appreciates your knife-lickin', dimple-havin', smart-writin', all-around awesomeness. I can already tell that you deserve amazing things in your life and hope that you get them. Maybe we'll run into each other on the candlepin lanes someday.

All the best,
****

Sweet Surrender

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