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.
