So how does a hone of a fellow like me find his Man of Life, or at least his Man Who’s Fun To Be With Now And Then?
I’m not picky.
Actually, I am. I can’t help it. I would rather be open to more kinds of men but like I have said before, my minimum IQ requirements alone eliminate most of humanity before things like personality and hobbies even stand up to be counted.
Which is why I have been staring at this list lately.
I figure I will stand a better chance of finding a compatible mate if I start with my fellow nerds, geeks, and so on.
My main problem with mainstream gay dating sites, and it took a while for me to be able to admit this to myself, is that most of the men there are fucking boring.
I don’t care about your age, race, ethnicity, religion, or what you are “into”, god damn it.
I want to know if your brains do more than just keep your ears apart. I want to know if you have a personality and if so, if it’s one I’ll like. I care a lot more about whether you’re a good person than whether or not you’re a good lay.
I’m an inherently trans-material kind of guy. To me, people are their minds and souls and personalities. Everything else is superficial and of only passing value.
In other words, I’m a hardcore deep nerd. Intellectual life 4 eva!
Hopefully, if I end up signing up for one of these nerdy dating sites, it will at least weed out all the hopelessly mundanes who would never be able to “get” more anyhow.
And that’s of utmost importance. You “get” me or you get OUT. Whoever I am close to absolutely has to be able to listen to what I sat, every word of it, and understand it well enough to respond intelligently.
If I can’t connect with your intellectually, then we are not going to connect for very long on any other level.
And I am sorry if that makes me seem closeminded or petty or elitist. Trust me, it’s not that I think I am better than everyone else.
But I have a very powerful need to express myself. So before I get close to you, I have to know you can receive what I transmit.
It makes me incredibly depressed when I am not understood. It’s like I held out a trembling, hopeful hand to the world only to have the world pull its hand back in a panic and say, “What? You’re weird. Go away. ”
And then I am left there in the cold and the dark with my hand sticking out.
Man, do I have issues.
Anyhow, that just covers a few of the problems I have with finding a man I like.
Multiply that by the fact that he has to also, for some reason, like ME, and the odds seem prohibitive to say the least.
I mean, I’m a highly lovable dude. But there’s a lot to look past, too.
So I dunno. Maybe I just need to hang out on TikTok more. Or some other modern social media app.
Where do people meet one another these days?
More after the break.
Do you believe in magic?
And if you do, could you teach me to do it? Because I need some magic in my life right now but I don’t know how to get it.
I mean, I know you can’t teach it to me like you could teach me physics or line dancing or parapsychology, but I am hoping that with the right teacher, I can learn to let go of my iron grip on the harsh and barren truths of the evident world and learn to believe that there is something more to life than merely what we can know of it.
But that’s the problem because I know that it’s not true. Magic is not real.
I understand why people need to believe in it now. I get what magic (or faith or whatever) does for people. I finally understand why those who believe say things like, “There’s just GOT to be more to life than this!”.
To which my ignorant ass would reply,. “Um, no there doesn’t.”
And like a lot of the worst things I have said and believed,. it is literally true. There is no logical reason why there “has” to be more than what we see. No law of physics compels the universe to furnish us with unseen forces that correct for the emotional starvation of the “real” world.
But oh, do I wish I could believe that there was.
And that’s where my existentially stark journey leads me : can I believe in something I know isn’t “really real” in order to make myself sane?
I suppose that God and fairies and magic numerology space metal bracelets that realign your sacral shakra are not strictly needed for this function.
All those things do for people is give them a controlled way to give themselves permission to be happy for no particular reason.
In other words, to simply give themselves the emotional inputs they need in order to keep their head above water instead of drowning in depression.
And I can give myself that permission without dragging in some errant nonsense about a deity or voodoo dolls or lucky shirts.
Because I don’t think I could ever make myself believe that there is “something more”. Magic is not for me. It never could have been.
I was a literal minded child who never believed in magic at all.
Not even when I was a toddler.
I made sense of the world from the getgo.
And maybe there is something terribly wrong with the tiny child who doesn’t play with toys, never had an imaginary friend, and feels no affection for stuffed animals.
But that’s just how I am. I know there’s no Santa Claus. And you can’t make yourself believe that which you know not to be true.
It might be possible, however, to bypass all the bullshit and go ahead with being happy without needing to justify it.
And maybe that will be my own kind of magic.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.