Why men should be leery of following women’s advice when it comes to dating

Some time ago I was following an interesting thread on a dating site’s message board about relationships.  One guy chimed in and complained about how women were viewing his dating profile but no one ever sent him any emails. So I checked it out to see what he wrote about himself:

“I rarely attend Church… I’m on SSI disability, so, please don’t expect a rich guy. I live with my parents, but pay rent.”

Um, well, ok, I could think of one or two things he might be doing wrong here.

I don’t know why it’s not readily apparent to some, but your dating profile isn’t exactly the place to be front loading everything that’s wrong with your life.  Life certainly has its ups and downs, but what woman (or anyone for that matter) would want to be around a guy who is a constant Gloomy Gus?

I suggested that he highlight his positive qualities instead of emphasizing the bad.  Maybe he has a good sense of humor.  Maybe he’s smart and intellectual.  Maybe he’s devout and doesn’t attend church because he’s a free thinker (women love renegades).

What struck me though was not his naivete but the advice women in the thread were giving him.  Actually, it wasn’t advice, it was more along the lines of general platitudes and emo-positive sentiments.  “Don’t worry, there’s a special girl out there waiting for you!”  “Just be yourself!”  “Don’t give up!”  That sort of thing.

Maybe one or two women said the same thing I did, which was that he had a poorly written profile that needed to be revamped, but they were drowned out by all the ubiquitous cheerleading.

I have to wonder how sincere some of these responses were.  Did these women really believe all he needed was some encouragement, or did they know deep down just how bad his profile truly was, and were merely humoring him?  Or were they really that ignorant themselves?

I’d like to believe it’s ignorance for the most part, because it’s hard to stomach the idea that so many were intentionally being devious.  And yet it happens often enough that I can’t help but regard any advice women give me about dating with inherent suspicion, unless they’re people I’ve come to know and trust after a great deal of scrutiny and time.

Logically, you would think the best source to find out what women want in men is well… women.  And yet much of what I’ve heard has been so patently and utterly dishonest.  If I were to ask any woman at random what they are looking for in a man, she would likely say, “I want a man who is kind and caring” when the real truth is, “I want a man with muscles.”

So why not be honest?  Because the latter would make her seem shallow, and in order to present herself as enlightened and superior to the oafish neanderthal ways of men, she will of course opt for the answer that paints her in the best light possible.

Men do this to women as well, although I think it’s more of a problem for us because we have a tendency to take everything women tell us at face value, and for whatever reason it seems hard for us to stomach the notion that women might be just as “shallow” as we are when it comes to attraction.  The irony of it is that I don’t regard attraction to say, muscles for example, as being wrong or shallow.  It’s just how it is, and in fact a good incentive to keep me going to the gym.  It’s the dishonesty that grates on me.  Relationships have to be built on trust and honesty, even if that means exposing how “shallow” we can be at times, and if we can’t learn to be honest from the start, I don’t see how that would bode well for the future.

I think OKCupid might be trolling me

I’m using OKCupid as my last and only foray into online dating (which I picked based on my personal rule of using a free site and not giving scammerbags like eHarmony and Match.com a single dime of my money).  Recently I got this email from them:

We just detected that you’re now among the most attractive people on OkCupid.

Meanwhile at OKCupid’s office:

Doctor Evil Laughs with Minions

Anyhoo, the email goes on to say:

We learned this from clicks to your profile and reactions to you in Quickmatch and Quiver. Did you get a new haircut or something?  Well, it’s working!  To celebrate, we’ve adjusted your OkCupid experience:

You’ll see more attractive people in your match results.

Yaaaaay wait, what?

Um… who were they matching me to before, ugly women?  Did they seriously dock me in match results because I hadn’t yet proved how gorgeous I am?  *checks hair in mirror*

So ugly/plain people, or at least people who hadn’t garnered enough attention in clicks and ratings are therefore not worthy of seeing the more attractive beauties of OKCupid, at least until they prove they can win a “popularity contest” based on some arbitrary algorithm that OKCupid uses.

Who says online dating was shallow?  That’s just crazy talk.

How I surprisingly got a date out of chatting up a hot girl on a flight back home

Finally got back yesterday after wrapping up a 16 day road trip!  (I’ll start recapping with photos and posts as the week goes on.)  I had a pretty awesome time, but towards the end I was ready to go home.  As much as I truly love the road (and Colorado) it still remains a place I can only visit, not a place I can truly call home (yet).

So I arrive at Denver airport, check in my bags, and eventually make my way to my window seat.  While I was moving through the plane I was thinking, “I’ve been on dozens of flights now and I never, EVER wind up sitting next to a hot girl.  EVER.”  I see some ugly dude standing over the aisle seat in my row and I’m like, “Yep, here we go, same old crap.”

But… he was standing there to let people pass and winds up moving to the row in front of me.  Whew.  I get into my seat and patiently await to see what Michael Moorish 500 pound creature out of Lovecraft’s books would end up sitting next to me.

It never materialized.  Instead, this GORGEOUS looking girl takes the aisle seat next to me, and it turns out no one had booked the middle seat between us, so we had the entire row to ourselves.  And I’m like… “Did that really just happen?”

After griping not 5 minutes earlier about never having the random good fortune of sitting next to a beautiful woman on the plane, lo and behold here she was, with the extra bonus of having a seat between us free for added comfort and minimal distractions.  It was like God had heard my complaints and presented a GOLDEN opportunity for me, all wrapped up in a nice red bow, and was now challenging me, “Here’s what you wanted Frank, now what are you going to do about it?”

So what did I do?  Nothing.

It was the curse of the introvert.  Instead of seizing the moment, I was calculating probabilities in my head, exploring every conceivable outcome that could arise from my talking to her.  Was she married, was she single, is she friendly, or would she rudely cut me off, would I even be able to hear her over the roaring of the jet engines, or would I completely embarrass myself, was she from Colorado or New York, and if Colorado how could that work, and if New York would she have that typical New York attitude, was her boyfriend/husband actually on the plane too and just in another seat, and would he curbstomp me for daring to speak to her after we de-boarded?

The more I thought and envisioned all the possible scenarios, the worse the knot in my stomach started to get.  Meanwhile I had to exercise serious restraint from openly admiring her exotically feminine figure, stealing a glance every now and then, but otherwise being a gentleman (I hope).  Of course it didn’t help that she would occasionally stretch her arms out, accentuating every gorgeous curve of her body as she did so.

Sweet mother of merciful goodness…  (I reach out and twist the A/C to full blast…)

I was still cognizant of all the ridicule I had received in a previous post about befriending women in public, the consensus by feminist trolls being that I was teh creepy creeps giving off teh creepeh vibes, and that under no circumstances should I ever smile, approach or talk to women in public, lest it be considered a form of stalking and verbal rape.  The Feminist Imperative has spoken.  So let it be written…

And the truth was, I honestly didn’t want to bother a girl if she didn’t want to be bothered.  But it was always hard to tell what their state of mind was.  The safe route of course is to simply not talk to anyone, EVER, and being an introvert that would have suited me just fine (while making all the feminists happy by acknowledging my place at the bottom of the totem pole and not polluting the air they breathe with proof of my existence).

But then I knew, if I didn’t say something, ANYTHING, I was going to regret this lost opportunity, just as I’ve come to regret all the other lost opportunities over the years.  Whereas before the old Frank would have shrunk further into his seat and buried himself in his book or iPad, the new Frank decided, “You know what, I am getting TOO OLD for this S@#$.  CARPE DIEM.”

I gently tap her shoulder.  “I was just wondering, are you from Colorado or New York?”

Her soft, expressive face brightened at my opening question, and off we went, chatting about this and that.  I tried to absorb the tremendous relief that arose from her willingness to talk to me, but my stomach continued to be in vice-like twist, pain receptors going off almost everywhere I had sensation.  It was literally like trying to move a muscle that I hadn’t moved in years.  I soldiered on though.  No more regrets.

As our plane made its descent I asked her out for coffee since she lived in Brooklyn, to which she said yes (?!?!?) and afterward we traded contact info and emails.


Not so much that she said yes, but in forcing myself to turn over a new leaf, to resist the old patterns of withdrawing and letting opportunities like these slide past me.  In a way I think it’s part of getting older.  You realize time is not in fact on your side, and life will only offer you X amount of chances to meet, befriend and perhaps find the person you’re meant to be with.  I decided I would rather go through life knowing even though I may have failed, at least I gave it my all, than to say I failed because I never tried at all.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I must commence the fine art of strutting.

Cool mice strutting on red carpet

When you come to the horrific realization that A) Marriage takes work and B) Women are crazy

As I grew up and watched marriages around me implode in epic Chernobyl-like nuclear meltdowns, the eternal optimist in me refused to believe that would be my fate as well.  Any future marriage I had was going to be all sunshine, rainbows and lollipops.  Why?  Because, LOoOOOoooOOoooOve!

Prancing under rainbows
The thought of my dream girl makes me so happy, I just need to prance!

Like a sappy Peter Cetera song, my future wife and I would dance and twirl to a magical land of marital bliss and happiness that would overcome all obstacles and trials, our souls forever intertwined as one.  She would be my bestest ever friend, a doe eyed beauty who knew me so through and through that she could complete my very thoughts.  There would be no misunderstanding, no sense of loneliness, no melancholy over having to face a cold and cruel world alone.  We would overcome, together.  A love so powerful it could be made… out of nothing at all.

Out of nothing at all…

Out of nothing at all…

Some might say my notion of marriage could be considered a tad… idealistic.  (Just a smidgen.)  I would scoff at these disgustingly vicious, jaded haters.  What did they know?  I remained convinced I alone KNEW the ingredients that would make a GREAT marriage, my expertise largely being derived from knowing the words to virtually every love ballad that had ever been produced during the 80s.  I was well schooled in TRUE love, yo.

But then, somewhere along the way, something strange and alien started to permeate my fantasies of resting my head on my beloved’s bosom while I sipped hot cocoa and watched old episodes of the X-Files on Netflix.

I asked my best friend what might be this unwelcome and perverse feeling I have intruding into my wondrous fantasies of what I knew would become my marriage someday.

“I believe that feeling you’re experiencing is a little something called reality.”

Oh, no.  Not that.  ANYTHING BUT THAT.

Guy Flailing

But alas, sooner or later, I was going to have to come to grips with it.  The marriage in my head was not going to reflect the marriage I would actually have.

A marriage that requires hard work, dedication, sacrifices and putting her before myself.  It would no longer be about me anymore: it had to be about US.

Well sure, I get that.  Nothing worth having in this world comes easy after all, amirite?  Regardless of the costs, I knew the benefits would be WELL worth it.  Like Jacob’s fervent love for Rachel, the sacrifices of gaining my beloved’s hand in marriage would be a prize well worth pursuing.  No mountain was too high to climb, no valley too low, no river too wide to swim across.   SHE WOULD BE WORTH MY LIFE.

Right?  Right???


As my idealism slowly gave way to my long neglected but still persistent logical side, I started to engage in a more serious cost/benefit analysis of marriage.  Was it possible that I could actually get LESS out of a marriage than what I put into it?  Would the costs outweigh the benefits?

I thought it was telling when I reflected that marriage was an investment in a previous post I wrote here, and a female commenter wanted to know why I would consider a marriage an investment.  That mere comment right there spoke VOLUMES.  It was the unspoken assertion that marriage isn’t in fact an investment that would reap dividends, but a black hole of responsibilities and burdens.

In Helen Smith’s book, Men On Strike: Why Men Are Boycotting Marriage, Fatherhood, and the American Dream – And Why It Matters, she breaks down some of the most compelling reasons why men would be hesitant to marry.  It starts with the loss of friends, space and freedoms, and concludes with the high risks of losing your kids and your money while being subjected to a hostile family court system that overwhelmingly favors women.  The risks of divorce is at least mitigated if you marry a virgin (the chances are a good 80% that women who were virgins at the time they married will be in a stable marriage.)  Women closer to my age though will likely not be virgins, so the probability here drops from 80% to just over 50% and gets worse the greater their sexual history.  Just having one sexual partner prior to becoming my wife means the marriage has a 1 in 2 chance of failing.  A flip of the coin is all that separates me from potentially losing… everything.

A man shedding tears
She took everything from me, even my Matchbox cars!

In her Huffington Post article, Smith concludes:

“Is this good for society? Probably not, as falling birth rates and increasing single-motherhood demonstrate. But people respond to incentives. If you want more men to marry, it needs to be a more attractive proposition.

But rather than make marriage a more attractive proposition, the trend is to shame the ever living boondoggles out of men.  Shame them up, shame them down, shame them round the merry-go-round.  Nonstop, 24/7 shaming.  Men who are purposefully single are selfish, self-absorbed, despicable scum sucking creatures of epic suckballs of suck whose standards are ridiculous and unrealistic, and the ONLY way they can prove they’re not is to MAN UP and MARRY UP.  Marriage is hard, but see, if you’re a REAL man, you won’t mind the sacrifices you have to make.  So get up off your fat, lazy bagshambos and start making babies with that lonely twice divorced single mom of six who just needs someone to love her!

So, yeah, ok, I get that marriage is hard.  So what are women doing for their part to make it more attractive?

Well, nothing actually.

That doe-eyed beauty I’d fantasize about who would be my bestest friend evahs??  Well, it turns out the real life version of her would probably be a bit more… neurotic.  The sort who would breathe epic nuclear fires of flaming death from her nostrils if I forget to take the trash out.  The kind who creates drama that could fuel a thousand soap operas because this here pencil was two inches out of place on my desk, not because she’s particularly upset about the pencil mind you, but because she just needed to FEEL something.

The kind who fitness tests me despite the fact that I’m already her husband, just to make sure I’m still man enough to make her tingle.

The kind who gets on my heiny-ho every day to emotionally open up to her, and then when I finally do, she reacts with revulsion and disgust.

The kind who has been reared by a culture that has beaten into her brain that women are morally, mentally, spiritually and even physically(???) superior to men in every shape, form and way.  The kind who absolutely will not take responsibility for anything she says or does because she is never, ever, EVER wrong.

The kind who doesn’t bring anything to the table because she feels just her very mere existence should be more than enough for me.

The kind who, after I’ve had a long day of work dealing with all kinds of grief with crazy coworkers, appalling incompetence, belligerent bosses, tremendous workloads, finds me unwinding on the couch with my iPad… and thinks that’s the only thing I did all day.

The kind who thinks the highlight of our marriage was our wedding day.

The kind who throws an absolute fit when I play a video game for 30 minutes, but expects me to understand she needs time to herself when she goes out with the girls for an 8 hour long shopping spree (complete with a lovely evening at the local spa.)

The kind who thinks my dog that I’ve loved and cared for since it was a pup is too big and too hairy and that I need to get rid of it, and then lay guilt trips on me by forcing me to choose between her and the dog, (and if I TRULY loved her it would be an easy decision.)

And the worst part of it?  She won’t do anything to change her behavior.  Her church will take her side. Her family will take her side.  Even that homeless guy down the corner who’s homeless because his ex-wife took him for everything will take her side.  She won’t change because again, the problem isn’t her, it’s me.  It’s ALL me.

This is the kind of woman our society churns out like homemade butter.  What man in his right mind would sign up for this?

Really?  Just… really?

See, the doe eyed girl of my fantasies would be worth fighting for.  She’s worth making 20 babies with and handing all my credit cards to (because my heart doth safely trust in her.)  A mere smile from her would inspire me to do things I’d never think I could do otherwise.  Nothing is impossible, no dream beyond reach.  I’d run faster, work harder, leap higher than I’ve ever leapt before, all for her.  I would give her the world.  I would give her my life.  She’s worth all that, and more.

But the doe eyed girl of reality?  Yawn.  She’ll be inspiring alright, inspire me to check out the latest video game deals on Steam that is.  Besides, such a girl would hardly need me to fight for her.  She’s like all strong and independent, yo.

There’s a saying,  “A bachelor looks before he leaps – and then does not leap.”  More and more men are taking the time to look before they leap into marriage, and deciding that the institution of marriage today offers very little incentive and a whole LOTTA disincentive.  Aside from sexual access (LOL, excuse me, I meant occasional sexual access) there just isn’t that much there.  And as a result men are checking out en masse and going Galt, so to speak.

So where does that leave me?

I think for one thing, I’ve gained a new sense of appreciation for my life as a single.  I don’t see it now as a punishment but as a blessing from God.  My singlehood has the benefit of giving me space to learn how to be a man at my own pace, enjoying the kind of life I’d NEVER be able to enjoy as a married man, and sparing me the grave and literally life ending consequences that arise from marrying poorly.

To whom much is given, much is required, but because I have not been given a wife, I’ve not been required of either.  My burdens are light, my life is free of drama, and my home perpetually quiet and free of strife.  I have an ample income that permits me to dote on myself and scores of free time to spend as I please.  And I thought God was punishing me?  I’m an idiot.

Captain Kirk Slapping Self
Snap out of it, man! The single life is AWESOME!

Does this mean I’ve sworn off marriage?  Despite everything I wrote:  NO.  I’m just not going to go bat crazy trying to find a wife.  Instead I’m accepting that the Lord has seen fit to give me this time to myself, to grow in Him and enjoy the fruits of my labors, and when the time comes that He DOES put someone in my path, I’ll be ready for it, walking in faith that any marriage He ordains for me will not be a marriage made in vain.

Till then, I shall party like a single righteous dude drunk on the whiskey of freedom.  *thumbs up*

Chewbacca Mellows Out
It’s good to be the king.

David Platt’s One Sided Sermon on Marrying

Coincidentally after I wrote my Proverbs 18:22 post, David Platt, popular pastor of a megachurch in the south had just given a sermon on the same subject a day before:

I can’t help but notice the irony of a dude who looks like he’s 14 years old telling men to grow up.  Far from being a “radical” message, this is a familiar tune in many churches today, where pastors constantly berate and rebuke the men of the congregation to stop being little boys and start marrying up.

For balance though, Platt does offer this particularly sound advice to the women:


Profound.  Apparently women don’t need to do anything after all.  Odd considering I had previously written a post pointing out that women themselves were also putting off marriage for as long as they could.  So David, what’s a guy to do when he does want to get married, but gets nuclearly rejected by women who are still trying to “find themselves?”

Ever consider maybe, just maybe, the problem isn’t only with the men?

I find it intriguing that Platt appears to use Proverbs 18:22 precisely the same way I was reading it until I realized  I had been misinterpreting the verse the whole time.  Apparently 3 theology degrees still isn’t enough to give one the skills to properly exegete Scripture.  Go figure.

Platt also has this insightful advice for handling rejection:

“If she rejects you, then make that as easy as possible for her, humbly bow out and seek somewhere else.”

Make that as easy as possible for her, because only her feelings matter.  *face palm*

Nothing about prayer, nothing about seeking the Lord’s will FIRST in everything, no suggestions on where and how to meet women, no effort to create ministries for singles looking to get married, no admonishment to the women for putting off marriage themselves or rejecting men for flighty reasons such as him not having blue eyes, nope, nothing of the sort.

The unspoken assertion here is that the only thing, literally the ONLY ISSUE involving dating, courtship and getting married for Christians today is that men play videos games too much.  I’m sure every woman in Platt’s church tithed a bit more than usual due to their itching ears being tickled silly after that service.

I find it a bit taxing to believe the Holy Spirit would have inspired Platt here to give such a one-sided sermon, especially one that involved poor exegesis of Scripture and a baffling lack of discernment.  And this guy pastors a huge church?

Hey Platt, since you’re so big on giving, how about you give away your pastorship to someone who actually knows what he’s talking about?  Now THAT would be radical.

Is the LORD among us, or not? Believing God for the impossible

One of the things that I’ve been doing lately was reading the many articles and blog posts about the state of marriages and relationships today.  While Christian singles have been all but abandoned by the churches, we also face a deteriorating culture that has ingrained poisonous ideas about masculinity and femininity into us, causing men to behave more like women, and women to behave more like men.

The net result is that our western world has become a veritable wasteland for any well meaning Christian who is seeking to marry a decent spouse equally devout in the faith.  To personally address this, I’ve read and received much advice about what I could do to make myself more attractive to women: how to talk, how to behave, how to dress, how to be more like a man, along with advice on where to look:  dating sites, singles groups, volunteering, going abroad and meeting foreign women, who to date, who not to date, what age range is acceptable, what age range is not acceptable, and on and on.

Most of it constructive, much of it sensible, but in all of that I kept wondering:  Where is God in all of this?  Is there an unspoken assertion out there that the LORD is sitting idly by while we continue to grope in the dark looking for that elusive pearl of great price?  Is He not a God of love and mercy?  Is it not in His power to make that search easier, especially as we draw nearer and nearer to the end times?

In my mind, I knew the truth of seeking God first before I could seek “her,”  but it’s one thing to know something intuitively, it’s quite another to actually LIVE it.

And while I was given a word and a vision, certainly enough to believe that there is indeed someone out there who would be my wife, the truth was, I didn’t really believe it.

I may have wanted to, but nothing I did afterward reflected this.  I simply did not live my life under the expectation that I would be meeting her soon.  Instead,  I wallowed in unbelief.

Many sins God will forgive, but unbelief is the sin that ultimately keeps us out of the Promised Land.  (Hebrews 3:12-18)  If He made a personal promise to me, then how can He reward me if I don’t believe it?

I was putting the cart before the horse.  I wanted to see something first, then I would start believing.  I needed some morsel of evidence to indicate that all was not lost, that despite the harrowing prospects of a single man my age, I could still end up happily married.  Just give me something, LORD, a little something to convince me she was real.

But the thing was, He did give me something:  His word.  That should have been enough.

And that’s when I finally understood: there’s a greater issue here than merely trying to find a wife in today’s climate, and learning to be more masculine.  I needed to believe God for the IMPOSSIBLE, and I’m sure you’d be hard convinced to find a more impossible scenario than the prospects of finding a godly mate in today’s world.  And yet this wasn’t about the impossibility of finding a mate and achieving a happy marriage anymore:  this was about my faith.

And our God, even our God is able to perform the impossible.  Even if I didn’t FEEL like it was going to happen, I still needed to ACT in faith that it would.  After all, faith isn’t about what you feel:  it’s about what you DO.

And while I feel my heart agonizingly ripping in half and sinking into the depths of despair, I have decided that I am not going to let my emotions dictate my actions.  Instead, I’m going to walk in faith, and trust God to do the impossible.   I will live my life as if she were just around the corner, so that when she finally does come, I’ll be ready to receive her.

Walk by faith, not by sight.

Propinquity: A Lone Wolf’s Kryptonite

I discovered a new word that helped me understand a few things about attraction, things that I had already figured out for myself in a way, but it’s nice to see a little bit of science backing it up too.

This is why online dating is such a difficult endeavor for men, even when you’re gorgeous like me.  If there’s no visual attraction right off the bat, it’s very difficult to spark attraction, unless the effort is made to meet in real life and on a regular basis to see if we can click from there.  Most women will not bother, partly because they get bombarded by prospects and hence have to find a way to quickly filter out undesirables, so only the top alphas of the alphas are going to make the cut (and sometimes not even.)  If you don’t look good and your profile is badly written and generic, it’s out with you.  And since I’m a dude and thus especially visually oriented, if the photos don’t depict even a mildly pretty girl, it doesn’t matter what their profile says, I quickly click on to the next profile.   Propinquity?  Never heard of it.

Although sometimes I try to force myself to dig a little deeper, if a girl seems kinda cute, I’ll read their profiles to see if there’s anything that might offer the promise of chemistry:  similar interests, beliefs, personalities, etc..  This is where propinquity comes in.  The attraction is very meager, but with physical contact and compatible personalities something might eventually spark.  This is why I always want to get to the face to face meeting as soon as reasonably possible.  Online correspondence (where propinquity is weak or nonexistent) is just not a good substitute for real life.

Real life though doesn’t fare much better for me, because generally speaking, I just don’t like people.  Once I was out of college there was only the work place and the bar/social scene where one can regularly meet and interact with women.  There are no single girls at my job, and I eschew the social scenes (including church) for a variety of reasons, so the prospects of benefitting from a propinquity driven attraction were daunting indeed.  My life as a deep-seated introvert meant I’ve had to rely on the initial, immediate spark of attraction more than the average person would probably need to.

Via a combination of laziness and idealism, I let the fallacy of  believing that the right girl will simply love me for whom I am, and not based on how I looked or presented myself in public.  And I would still agree, BUT if I’m a complete stranger to her and I’m not giving her ANY incentive to get to know me better (read: make her immediately swoon before my manly presence) then it wouldn’t matter who I was.  I don’t need to be Don Juan, but I don’t have to go dousing any sexual appeal I had with a fire hose either.

I guess this means I can’t take anything for granted when I go out.  Even if it’s a midnight run to 7-11, I should still go looking my best, and not sporting say, a stained undershirt and lounge pants like I used to.  Or like I’ve seen some guys do, go out wearing SLIPPERS.  *face palm*  Although when I see that, I wonder if the competition isn’t nearly as bad as I think it is.

In the meantime I can try to find at least ONE social group or circle out there that I can participate in (whether it’s a church, book club or whatnot) but ironically, I find that an even more daunting prospect than meeting a sweet girl by chance while squeezing my melons at the local supermarket.

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