For me, having a life that resembles a romantic comedy would be a fate worse than death. I’m no Matthew McConaughey. I’m no John Cusack. I’m no Hugh Grant. I want something real and organic. Not awkward or contrived. I’ll never be high society and nor do I want to be. I want an indie kind of love. Something built on a mutual quirkiness and perhaps a dose of elitism. You know - the kind that mix tapes get built on.

I’m fairly intelligent, relatively attractive and pretty damn funny, but there’s always something missing... I fall for personalities, while most fall for boobies. It’s an impasse, to say the least.

****I am also looking for models to let me photograph them. some of my photos can be seen at www.flickr.com/latentimage16 and the style i want to do is at www.flickr.com/louobedlam ****

Here’s the thing. There are a lot of rotten apples out there - guys and girls alike. It’s hard to have been with one of those rotten ones and come out unscathed. You become leery of whatever your gender of preference may be. And eventually become jaded by relationships in general. That’s what leads to statements like, “Girls suck”.
Yes, we know that not all girls suck. But sometimes it’s easier to resign yourself to that than to actually go out and look for one who doesn’t. And by that point, issues of confidence and self-worth come into play. So even if you do find an acceptable match, you’re too damned scared to say anything or don’t feel worthy of being with someone you find completely and utterly wonderful.
So we throw up a “Girls Suck” flag. Then subtly hope that one of those who don’t suck sees it and says, “Ye and verily, I do not suck. Let me show you every hour of every day in every way I know how.” Alas, us guys are damaged too. And, let’s face it ladies, you’re not the easiest creatures to read.
So we both stand around, eyes cast downward, drawing circles in the dirt with our toes like it’s some kind of high school dance (sans the pomp, circumstance and taffeta). Each wanting the other to say something, at least. Maybe dance. Hold hands. And, if the night goes right, get felt up a little. But each is too damn scared to move.
It’s a vicious damn circle. One that many amazing people don’t deserve to be trapped in. And with each pass, you get drawn into yourself a little more - edging closer to that dreaded future as a crazy cat lady.