Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Made Of Fail Part Six: The All-You-Can't-Eat Buffet

I often wonder how many times the well-intentioned friends or family members of lovelorn individuals have uttered the expression “There are plenty of fish in the sea.”
I’ve never been a big believer in that expression, and not because I don’t like fish, or because some reports predict that by 2048 it will no longer be the case that there are plenty of fish in the sea.
No, my problem with the expression is that the sea is a very big place, so the odds are fairly decent that wherever you happen to be casting your line or your net there may not be any fish swimming around.
There are, apparently, places that are positively teeming with available women. Attractive women. Desperate women.
I’ve never been to any of those places.
Even when I hung out in bars, the typical male to female ratio was something like three to one, and usually that one was involved with at least one of the three.
To change metaphors, some people like to suggest that the world of dating is an all-you-can-eat buffet, overflowing with available options.
(I suppose you could go back to the fish metaphor and say that it’s a seafood buffet, if you really felt the need.)
However, I’ve typically found that by the time I get to the buffet it’s closing up, and all that’s left are a few crumbs in the croutons bin, and maybe some French dressing residue on one of the ladles, and there’s a fat guy who’s been there since the buffet opened and if you so much as move towards those crouton crumbs he will stab you with his fork because he’s got his eye on them.
The point of this? Well, it’s as I often say about accusations that I’m too picky, it doesn’t really matter if I am picky because there’s nothing to pick.
Honestly, my singlehood has been rather like being on an episode of The Dating Game in which none of the Bachelorettes bother to show up.

So yeah, my section of the sea? It’s like 2048 came early.


Merlin T Wizard said...

masterfully done. I especially liked the accompanying illustration.

I know how to solve your problem, by the way.

You need to become a serial killer. They get all sorts of hot, desperate chicks as fans once they're put away. Of course, you have to treat them like garbage, too. Gotta be like their daddy!

In other words, there'd be a lot more women to increase your chances if more guys didn't mess up their heads when they were kids or bolster their psychoses when they grow up.

Guys blow.

Heimdall said...

You know I'm not motivated enough to be a serial killer. It's way too much work. All that heavy lifting.
(Oh yeah, and there's that whole "killing is wrong" thing.)
On the other hand, your theory intrigues me, and I wish to subscribe to your newsletter. Oh, wait, I already am subscribed.
Even so, what you describe seems to indicate that there is a fourth category of cockblocker that I had never considered before: the preemptive cockblocker.
Hmm...I'll have to revisit my cockblocker classification system.