Connecting...Gah.

by Suz deMello

Connecting... This is a tough one for me.

One of my first crushes--tall, smart and, alas, aloof.
Image public domain via Wikimedia Commons

I remarked in my last post that I have the emotional IQ of a dead salamander. Unfortunately, I tend to choose men with the EIQs of a dead and rotting salamander.

My first crushes were on Mr. Spock and Sherlock Holmes. What did they have in common? Tall, intellectual, aloof.

Some might think I am the same--like is attracted to like. But I can tell you that an attraction to aloof males is a recipe for heartbreak.

I'm still working my way through the painful aftermath of my most recent stupid choice. I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm even reading a lot of online romantic advice: 3 Simple Explanations for Why You're Still Single (I know why. A broken heart will make a woman somewhat risk-averse); Specific Ways to Make Him Want Only You...  (Grow big boobs or have them surgically implanted); and the one that really irks me: 6 Simple Tricks to Crack the Man Code.

There's a code?!?!? Pardon the French, but Jesus fuck. Apparently men don't speak the same language even when it's English.

But the view that there are different love languages is optimistic. Some folks, like John Grey, think that men and women are from different planets.

Small wonder I can't connect.

I like to go deep. Casual sex bores me. I used to be into sportfucking, but grew

 Nevit Dilmen via Wikimedia Commons

beyond it, just as I outgrew my interests in bicycling, martial arts and ice hockey.

Recently, I've also noticed nomenclature issues and that social mores have changed. I was recently corresponding online with a guy and mentioned that I wanted a boyfriend. His reaction was one of horror: "you mentioned the B-word!!!"

I was like, "Well, Jeez, it's not like I'm planning to move in with you or walk up the aisle in a white dress any time soon."

People have gotten so weird about having a nice, steady relationship that includes good sex, an occasional dinner out, and interesting conversation. I don't know what the problem is. Trolling for sex is a giant PITA. Am I the only person around who hates dating? 

The Dating Swamp. Watch out for gators!
Image: Bert Kauffman via Wikimedia Commons

Dating, to me, is like a frustrating tour of local supermarkets in search of a product I just can't find. I guess if a person enjoys wading through a massive time sink, they'll love dating. For me? Not so much.

I'm really busy. I just don't have time to get cleaned up, do my hair and makeup, and waste an evening on some Bozo who mixes up good and well, or who doesn't know how to hold a fork correctly.

And don't get me started on social media. I get messages like this on FB from men I don't know:

How are you Demello? Hope you are doing fine. Thanks for accepting my friend request. Well, it was when my daughter was playing game on my FB page (farmville) when your profile suddenly pop up on the right down corner where is written "people you may know" i click on it, view it and decided to contact you to know you beyond your profile. You are gorgeous and it will be a privilege to introduce myself. I am from the states, but presently in Liverpool on a contract job here which am almost done with, I am an engineer who is into building constructions, I build houses, hospitals, bridges,roads...etc, I am self employed and I handle my job in contracts. Please tell me little about you if you don't mind.

I mean, WTF???? Did I ask for this guy's (ungrammatical) autobiography? And he can't tell that deMello is my last name, not my first? Crikey.

I have it on good authority that dating and mating were not always so difficult. According to a book I'm reading, Sex at Dawn, as higher primates we should all be enjoying active sex lives with...whoever. Whenever.

Whatever.

Bonobos are so casual about sex that
they'll munch a snack while banging.

Image by Rob Bixby via Wikimedia Commons

Such pronouncements leave those of us who are fairly picky about their partners a sense that we're abnormal. Supposedly we're biologically predestined to bang like bunnies, or maybe bonobos (which I've heard use group sex to solve conflicts rather than interpersonal violence. I have to say that's a smarter alternative).

Often I wish I could simply get rid of the urge to merge. I once asked a hypnotherapist to do just that. She smiled softly and told me the bad news: the drive to connect is intrinsic and can't be eliminated.

Damn.