The Sorrows of Young Werewolf (eyeteeth) wrote,
The Sorrows of Young Werewolf

In case of man, break glass

DATE. DAAAAAATE. Date. It went OK, considering that I hate the process of dating as I hated, when I was fourteen, having my blood endlessly drained into little vials because I had hepatitis and the epidemiologist wanted to make sure everyone in the tri-state area wasn't about to get hepatitis -- or such was my vague understanding at the time, anyway. Waiting for this to happen, I would always recall a line from Douglas Adams's Life, the Universe and Everything: "His face froze for a second or two and then began to do that terribly slow crashing trick which Arctic ice-floes do so spectacularly in the spring." Only it was my whole self I imagined to be doing the terribly slow crashing trick, which I recognize now as the potential prelude or gateway to, or prodrome of, a vasovagal episode, such as I now sometimes get if I'm reading about cisternal spinal taps. I'm a delicate flower, I guess is my point, and delicate flowers shouldn't be skewered with hypodermic needles or subjected to the barbaric process of dating. This one went OK -- for a date, as I said. We talked a lot and were nervous. I sent him my novel in its current state. We'll see what he thinks of it. Honestly, though, men who want to be my boyfriend should be plentiful and should form an orderly queue and approach me one by one for a few minutes' audience so I can pick the most suitable one and then get back to vacuuming or rearranging my bookshelves or whatever I was doing. I have been a woman in this culture for long enough to realize that this is the wrong attitude, but for the life of me I can't identify the flaw in my proposition.
Tags: dating, douglas adams, stix
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