When Galaxies Collide

The other night I was out with some friends and one of them looked at me and said, "So... how are you feeling about men these days?  Thinking you're ready to start something new yet or... are you done?"  I thought about it for a minute, as if to ask myself that question, and I finally responded with, "I think I'm done."

And I am done.  I mean... how much more ridiculous can my love life get?  Between men that stalk me because I smiled in passing and men that swear undying love for me and put a $5,000 diamond on my finger only to leave me at the altar (or dumpster, I should say), I think I better just count my losses, admit defeat, and fill my house with cats or something.

I give up.  I have better things to do with my time than worry about meeting the right man, particularly when I'm pretty sure he doesn't exist in this galaxy.  Somewhere in a galaxy far far away, there's a man that's sitting at his computer writing something similar to what I'm saying right now because he just can't find me.  He's over there miserable in Andromeda, and I'm stuck here in the stupid Milky Way.  And how terrible is that?

I will say this though, I do feel kinda sorry for the next man that dares to be my suitor because he's going to have his work cut out for him.  I think I've reached this point in my mind where it's easier for me to create an ideal man that no one will ever live up to (which isn't hard to do when every one else is proving to be little more than used car salesmen anyway).

I'm not kidding.  I was lying on the couch the other night watching some show on the National Geographic Channel about the various elements of the Milky Way and how it all functions together to create and sustain life, and I found myself listening to this one gentleman in a double breasted suit talk about dark matter and how it holds the universe together and I thought, "Damn... He's hot.  He's got to be one of the hottest men I've ever seen.  I need someone like that.  Someone who can turn me on with his intellect and be hot enough for me to melt all the way to the bedroom.  Yes... tell me more about this dark matter... How about we go make some galaxies collide...hmmm?"

Ridiculous, I know, but true.  Men like that don't travel in my circles.  If I hadn't left graduate school before completing a PhD, maybe I'd have a chance of finding someone like that, but... I'm down here with the working class people.  The only dark matter we're talking about around here is the fact that we all have to get up and go to work tomorrow.  And yes, I get hit on by this one or that one, and I have friends that always think they have the perfect person for me, but... I'm seriously not interested.  I have completely lost interest even in the pursuit of the possibility of "the one," nor do I give a shit about My Five anymore.  The last man I almost married met My Five, (or at least I thought he did until he proved at the very last minute not to have "black belt mentality," but... that's a moot point now), and it still went straight to the garbage so... nope.  Don't care.  Now it goes like this:


"You want to date me?  Have you ever been on the Science Channel, History Channel, Discovery Channel, or National Geographic Channel because of your expertise in Quantum Physics, Astronomy, Archeology, or Biology?  No?  Well then, I'm sorry.  You don't meet the criteria."


So, see?  That's a fool proof plan right there.  Unless the man can find a way to make galaxies collide, like Gandalf said, "You shall not pass!"