I'm lost. I don't know where to go, don't know what to do, and seem to keep walking head first into the same wall as I pace the tiny hall between the stairs and my front door. It was a few days ago that my need to go outside first manifested, all because of one, sad, realization.
Now I was surfing the Internet, as I often do in my lack luster days, seeing as I haven't been to work in a very long while, and proxies prowl outside my door. So as I made my way to one of my favorite sites, an add came up for a black evening gown, and before you say anything, I know I am a male and that evening gowns shouldn't catch my interest, but this one was different. The plunging neck line that showed ample amounts of cleavage and the way that it was supposed to contour the lines and curves of the body...well it really drew me in, and that's when I realized it.
I have never been on a date.
That's right. Not once in my life have I EVER been on a date.
This had to be remedied! There had to be someone who would go on a date with lil' ol' unremarkable me, wasn't there? There was hope that someone would be desperate enough to do what no other woman (or perhaps even man) had even dared to try. So I signed myself up for a dating website...like E-Harmony or something to that effect, but before I even started looking for matches it was over. Those websites lie people. They say that they can find a match for anyone, but after inputting all my information, all that came up was that there was no one out there in the whole, wide and vast Internet for me. Of course, I couldn't help but get all depressed for a few moments over this news, but then the speaking bottle of Tylenol Ones on my desk reminded me that where there was a will there was a way, and I reminded it that I had no will, and then it yelled at me to get my fat arse moving and actually do something.
And I found nothing wrong with this.
I took the advice the bottle had given me, and I orderd the dress, and a mannequin to wear said dress, and some roses, and some candles, and a few romantic CD's, and lots and lots of booze. I dressed my mannequin up in all the finery I bought her, leaned her akwardly against the chair at the table set for two, and started to woo my, unwilling, inanimate, victim. With enough rum and fine whiskey to kill an already dead cat, I think the night was pretty successful.
Let me know what you think!