Cannot Cope

I am in over my head.

I've now been an RSVP member for a week, if it were AA I'd get my seven day chip.
I've had 138 kisses, emails and chat requests. I am not that interesting surely, I can't be!

I can't be sure whos true potential because I've got so many fucking things to reply to. I've even limited my inbox to only recieved ten a day.
Its like defcom five, I've gotta get in all my replies before the enemy attacks with another round.

Haha something funny did happen, I gave a Bee my email address and he sent an email saying 'my name nice girl' hahaha,I thought... well thats weird. Then sent another email explaining he was going to email me from work.
Apprently Im a nice girl.

Well Agent Z I don't think it's too much to ask to see if your Bee is still in the land of the living. But of course having said that, if he doesn't have the consideration to reply fuck him.
Fuck em all.

What's wrong with this picture?

(Not this picture. Nothing wrong with a scantily-clad cat girl.)

I think I've reached the bottom. Today I found myself trawling through the obituaries section of smh.com to try and determine whether a love interest of mine had died. When you find yourself doing this, perhaps it is time to stop and evaluate. One can't help but be reminded of that line from that song:

"Don't be no fool when
Love really don't love you."

This is D-Bee. (Myspace guy, the one with the drug history, the one who caused all that shit with my aunt and her somewhat doubtful choice in father of her child. If anyone is confused, don't worry. I think I'm mostly writing this to myself).

After everything happened with my aunt and uncle, D-Bee sent me an email apologising profusely and saying that he hoped I could forgive him. He said not to worry, he wouldn't be going anywhere. This meant everything to me - to know that even though things were shitty I could at least I could rely on D-Bee to talk to.

This was over two weeks ago.

Since then he hasn't been online at all and hasn't responded to my email that bluntly asked him to let me know "yes" or "no" if we were talking anymore.

I don't have his phone number. I don't know where he lives. I don't know his last name. And yet I spoke with this person about every third night for hours (online) since the beginning of the year. We told each other some big, personal things. I felt, in some strange disconnected way, that I knew him, or at least I knew I wanted to know him. The night that the crap happened with my uncle D-Bee was talking about the possibility of meeting - which was huge for him considering the drug past (and associated complications), etc.

And now he has disappeared off the face of the planet and there's nothing I can do but look through the obituaries. And this is, like, EVERY obituary as I don't have his last name.

Is it too much to ask for my prospective dates to be mentally sound, not addicted to something, in possession of a driver's lisence and ALIVE???

Fucking hell.

p.s. Agent Y please let us know how RSVP goes. (Hopefully well!) I've heard it can work but due to my freak-magnetism I've given up on the internet.

I'll let you know if D-Bee ever turns up again. Preferably not in a body bag.

*Cringe* I joined RSVP

Well I joined RSVP.
Through lack of other alternatives I joined spur of the moment Monday evening, and had intended to blog about it but had to respond to the dozen kisses, two emails and three instant chat requests I had.
Today is Thursday and I've had 76 fucking emails, kisses and chat requests. SINCE TUESDAY.
Sounds like a nice idea in theory, but I'm having to be really ruthless about who I reply to with positive answers.
Anyone who is over the age limit, 28/29 and out of my area (west, I don't drive after all) unless they are cute or have good profile get an almost automatic reply of 'you don't meet my perfect match criteria' or something almost nasty.
I've had to do this out of necessity now, because otherwise they get hopeful and then there are more emails and kisses involved.
I can't see two guys at once much less talk to 70 of them. Christ.
And then the real flip out was, encountering not only the DropKick Bees I've already blogged about, but a Bee I went to school with!! Hahaha funny old world.

Will keep posted with progress...

No lovin take 2/3/4

"Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And
departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and
shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up
and doing.
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still
pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait."
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Granted it’s a bit wordy, but I get what Wadsworth is saying, I think he might be onto something here, and I think that the same can be applied to my drought situation.
No longer am I scornful (ok maybe a little) of those giving or receiving sexual gratification, it gives me hope that one day I too, a forlorn shipwrecked sister can take heart and will have sex again!
But then we get to the problematic final stanza, the one where I have to do something in order to achieve a result… oh man. Cheer up, Agent Y, nothing comes from nothing.
I'm sadly lacking in the respect that I am going out and meeting new people, I can't have sex with any of the old ones, don't have any current ones - boy I am in a quandary, a boy quandary.
HAHA oh that was witty.

I also find, I have gone through stages, like one goes through grief, from abject annoyance to complete indifference.I now find that living in my parents home, and not having sex (or even the odd pash and dash) I have reversed into some kind of childlike stasis. The only difference between now and childhood, is a meager paycheck. It seems Peter Pan had it right?