Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

As January is only eighteen days in, and I'm failing at life and 2019, I sit here wondering when the swells of damage will subside.  Perceptions will always fool you. In seven days: I lost one of my emergency contacts as she made it clear she wanted to know my contingency plan.  Well, it was never for her to take care of me.  So, I won't bother her again.  That one rips me to my core as I've never asked anyone to take care of me.  I'm done being there for people, as in the end . . . Had someone comment, more than once, that we've known each other for a long time.  Well, we've known each other so long that he lied to my face.  Even more: he doesn't know me.  At all.  He doesn't know my brother's name, my favorite color or flower, doesn't know that he's a big reason the occasional date usually ends as a dud as the dude across the table falls flat in comparison.  He doesn't know I still remember the day he told me to call him by his...

As the life of the dater goes, I should say some days are better than others.  Yet, in this case, they are not.  I look around and wonder what in the name of hell I ever did to deserve all of this.  I have to discern an answer.  In the end, as it always is, it must be me.  These days I'm done and unsure of why I try.  The odds of me getting a connection who wants to talk to me is pretty slim, as the rate I get unmatched on a mere hello is astounding.  Astounding.  Then, as these things go, the meet up never happens as either the male in question flees and becomes as mysterious as Big Foot.  To be rumored but never seen.  Or, a few chats later and then he unmatches me.  The last two, well . . . I sent them a link to a travel lit piece I wrote, which led to my page here and my Instagram.  The one I just sent him Insta.  Yeah, as anyone who has been around here for a half a second knows I've never bothered to hide the Lupus...