In which she confesses to being really superficial and wrestles with the implications
Occasionally I will receive a perfect message from someone who is just perfect. Ish. Perfectish.
I can easily create excuses for not responding to the message pasted below. For example:
At the time, I was a newly born singleton; the placental dampness from my time inside the relationship-failure womb was still evaporating. I was an afterbirth flavored emotional mess. You know how some animals require approximately 14-15 post-natal seconds before they're able to run around and avoid predators, deftly gazelling around as a testament to survival & efficacy? I was not one of those species. I emerged from the relationship/breakup womb as a completely useless emotional platypus ("...wait....is that milk coming from....coming from your sweat ducts? how the fu...? whu....? whatever. let's do this. i'll figure it out").
Anyway, after leaving the relationship-failure womb, I fell into a pile of lovely but critically flawed men who I felt comfortable dating because I knew their critical flaw would prevent any real feelings from happening. That's right, emotional platypus! Run to the safety of no feelings!
But that's not the real reason I didn't respond to this clever and beautifully crafted message pasted below.
I just spent two paragraphs justifying my douchery and besmirching the pristine reputation of the platypus by proxy.
In truth, I did not response to this message because I declared him to be physically unacceptable. Why?
He was only an inch taller than me.
Adding another layer of creepy pseudo-freudian guilt to the picture, an inch taller than me is also my dad's height. Ooof. I like how none of this feels.
As for this perfectly crafted message, it feels engaged but relaxed, smart but not insecure.
The scene: In response to the question: "Is there such a thing as too many sexual partners?" I respond with: "Yes!" qualified by "as #partners approaches infinity, p(disease) approaches 1. amiright??"
Man I am so irresistibly clever. I would message me too.
I also make reference to my inability to fluidly label my left/right. New friend uses these things as a jumping off point.
March 2012. Thursday. Just after midnight.
I have never been able to rapidly tell my left from my right, though I have improved some since I started doing yoga seriously... there are only so many times you can contort yourself into a pretzel the wrong way before you start getting better at it...
With respect to your answer to "Is there a such thing as having had too many sex partners?" You actually aren't right, but only because you don't constrain your infinite set properly (warning, math/CS nerd explanation to follow):
If we assume that there exists an Aleph-1 infinite set of people and that each person has N chance of being disease free than for any N I can pick an Aleph-Null subset of disease free people from the original set for any N. Having sex with that infinite subset of people has a p(disease) of 0, though I make no claims about overuse injuries...
If you want an actual formal proof I'll have to grab my Number Theory or Set Theory books off the shelf ;-)
Take care,
Man. Regrets. I have them. I would kill to get something of this caliber today.
Appropriate but not obnoxious grammar, punctuation, and spelling?
Clearly has more nerd street cred than I do....?
Alludes to yoga-induced jacked-ness in a self-deprecating joke that is simultaneously intended to build rapport and provide a mastery-model of support for my L-R labeling issue (a la CBT for kiddie anxiety, "I was scared about this once too!")...?
AND completely on-point use of the parenthetical and emoticon?
Do you smell that? That is the smell of the shame wafting off me.
To make matters worse, I also just noticed his UN is a GoT reference. Excuse me while I go chain smoke cigarettes and browse CL singles ads for a while to reorient myself.
romaincrisis
gamechangershow
origamiaround
yousharknotpass
ellievsbear