I Guess I Should Just Be A Nun.

I’ve been chatting with the fun guy. Mr. T. – the beautiful guy; he’s now out of the question. We haven’t spoken in almost a week. I didn’t respond to his last message. I’m over it now. I still jerk off to thoughts of his beautiful face and those arms every now and again, but it’s no longer an obsession. Job done. Finished with. Woo hoo.

The fun guy, however, I don’t seem to be having any luck with either. I really enjoy talking to this guy. He’s so much fun to just chat to. And we talk for hours too – all day, every day. When he’s not working or sleeping, we’re chatting. I’ve been signed off work for two weeks until my colonoscopy at the beginning of December because of the Poo Problem. Whatever it is, Barry Bowel (as we have now named it because ‘potential cancer’ kept making my mama cry) has been an absolute dickhead and has now destroyed any chance of living a happy day to day life. I’m unable to go to work so I was signed off, and my bosses are being total assholes about it. Whatever. I might have cancer. I’m allowed to have this time off. Plus I’m scared I’m going to shit myself, fart really loudly, or stink the shop out whenever I’m at work. This shit (excuse the pun) whatever it is, is taking over my life. In fact, I no longer have a life.

I blew the fun guy out for our first date before because I was sick. To be honest, I don’t think I had any intentions of meeting him anyway so the doctor’s appointment and sick note situation came at just the right time. I have kinda told him what the situation is with me and my newfound illness expecting him to run a mile like Jock did. He didn’t… He agreed to take it slow, not get offended when I blew him out, and even arranged to have a phone date with me first to put my mind (and my stomach) at ease. Sorry, could this guy be any fucking cuter?

I still don’t find him attractive though. I re-wrote that sentence a thousand times trying not to make it sound so harsh but I can’t say it any other way. Plus now I think he might have bad teeth. In some photos he sends me, he’s looks kinda decent but I reckon these are just well-timed photos. I can’t work it out but that just says one thing to me – I’m really not that into him. I really like the chat but I think friends is pretty much all we’re going to end up being.

After speaking on the phone (about twenty minutes ago), I’m now definitely sure that he’s not for me. Why does this always happen to me? We had all the chat and he talks like a pleb. He stutters, which would normally be fine, but it just sounds like he’s uneducated rather than having an actual problem. I should have guessed this from his bad spelling in our many messages. Plus he talks really fast. I couldn’t understand what he was saying to me half the time, and he didn’t let me get a word in edgeways. Honestly, I can’t believe that one phone call changed so much. We went from talking every second of every day that we could for almost a whole week, to the thought of actually meeting up with him face to face making me cringe. The dating game is never simple is it?

That’s the thing about online dating. There is always something wrong. Mr. T. was beautiful but had no chat. The funny guy was all chat and no looks… and an irritating voice to match. Jock was perfect for me but just couldn’t commit… I can’t win. Ever. It’s easy to hide behind a persona with eight to ten well-timed photos and a profile that doesn’t really tell you much about the other person at all. I might just give up. This doesn’t appear to be working out very well for me. Plus it’s kinda hard to go out and meet people when you can’t really leave the house…

I guess I should just be a Nun. I can’t remember the last time I had sex. In fact I can. It was with Number 42. I haven’t had sex since Number 42. Fuck my life.

One thought on “I Guess I Should Just Be A Nun.

  1. You aren’t gonna be a nun and you know it. (Wo)man up, dammit! I’m taking the crappy tough love approach because the genuine sympathy or the jokes aren’t working so now I’m deciding to subliminally convince you to temporarily become the bad kind of feminist and just destroy men sexually and emotionally. Can’t say I don’t look out for you!

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