WTF?!

Well I’ve hit an all time low. I watched..oh..say about 4 hours (straight) of a reality TV show that I swore I would never watch. But it fascinates me on a psychological level. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

It’s Bret Michaels Rock of Love. (I admit, the man has a bod) I’ve been inundated with lovers all around me these days and it’s making me rather sick. I can’t even take my dog to the dog park without someone making out in a corner or two young goth lovers on a bench as he plays guitar and she hangs on his every word. I mean please, really, keep it at home people.

I have to admit, I’m a closet bit hair ‘80’s band fan. I did listen, and enjoy (as I cringe now) the likes of Poison. But the glam band days are done and that’s fine with me. Spandex needed to die and all of us closet rockers bid our farewell. It’s party music; senseless music that I don’t have to think about or care why I liked it. So, there it is, I begin a holiday Monday afternoon sucked into VH1’s marathon of Bret lookin’ for love watching these blonde headed bimbos eagerly ready to “ insert expletive” a rock star.

Quite honestly, I’ve come down to this conclusion. Women are just as bad as men. I will never again say that men suck or men this or men that. We can all suck. All of us. No questions. So I’m watching from a standpoint of psychological interest...remember that's my story. These women are horrible. Downright horrible. Not to mention the distraction of fake tans, too much eye makeup and enough fake boobage to put any man out of his mind. How does one choose, especially on a TV show in front of millions? There is no way anyone could get to know anyone else executed in this fashion. Impossible. Maybe have a lot of fun and a lot of pole dancing, from what I saw, embellished with cat fights and backstabbing to put the worst person to shame.

So I’m wondering in my long, overdue dry spell, will I ever find love again? I would be happy with someone just taking a second look! This will sound like I’m coming out of the 7^th grade here, but it’s just not fair! All my friends are married or otherwise involved with someone and of course they just don’t know anyone that they could introduce me to. Being single in Seattle sucks. Men are passive here. I need to move. So the good ones are married, involved or gay. That is my story. I'm beginning to sound like a run-on sentence.

Everyone else I know is talking about their love interests. I have a co-worker who has 4 guys lined up to date! She can’t even keep track of them! I have another friend who didn’t even have any layover time from a hasty divorce onto the next guy and she’s 50! Where am I going wrong? Is it so bad that I’m not a bar-hopper? It’s not like I don’t get out. I go everywhere, by myself. I go to theatre, movies, festivals, dog parks, coffee shops, you name it. I’m dud bait. No one bites. I’m friendly, outgoing, always cheerful for the most part…what gives? I guess I need to sign in to Slut Central or something and where my pants down to my crotch and push my boobs out my shirt in order to be noticed.

So my three-day weekend goes as follows: Self pity, loneliness, pitiful attempts to get out among the living by taking my dog to the dog park and going to coffee shops pretending that I enjoy reading in public while sipping a very hot caffeinated beverage in humidity that is killing me. No fun. So, my sister comes over and brings two Indie films that really gets me thinking. The Squid and the Whale: In a nutshell; divorce looms over all, and being a bystander totally sucks. Then The Ice Storm: In a nutshell: divorce looms over all and everyone is cheating on everyone else and everyone is truly miserable. Not a picker-upper if you know what I mean.

So, where do I go from here? Men are looking for tall, skinny, beautiful, rich women with financial futures and a great car. I’m a short, stocky, average, poor woman with no financial future and driving a 20-year old Volvo. Where does that leave me? Watching Bret Michaels finding love in the next stripper chick ready to flash her fakes. Something’s gotta give. Enough all ready!