Dear Universe That Controls My Love Life,
Hey. It’s Jamie. Here’s the thing. I am kind of getting this feeling that you and I got off on the wrong foot here. Because, um, ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME? Is this a joke? I mean, it’s not funny. At first, okay, I admit, it was a little funny. Of course, throw hot married men and amazing guys with girlfriends in my face. Okay, I can handle that.
But, when I finally get my whole thing together for online dating and torture myself into some sort of profile-writing-submission, you throw men at me that have spelling errors and who wink at me surreptitiously. Next, are you going to have potential dates poke me on Facebook? IS THIS WHAT MY LIFE IS BECOMING? Pokes on the fucking Facebook and misspelled words? AWESOME. Thanks.
What you’re saying here, Universe, is that you’d rather me drink 3/4 a fifth of Maker’s Mark in ONE NIGHT instead of, you know, maybe actually date a cool guy? Is this what I’ve been led to believe here? Because, then you throw someone into my life who is amazing and who reads my blog and STILL WANTS TO TALK TO ME and I’m like, ok, well, this is good. This is a definite good start. My blog and general writing style serve as a fantastic way to weed out the weak boring incompatible.
So, this guy, we start talking and we move our DM conversation over to Gchat and ooh, la, la, right? BIG MOVE. And then, it’s all, yum, amazing, he’s awesome, we get along, wee! And then it’s all, oh, hey, great new guy that came along when I wasn’t even WANTING to date, you live in Washington? You don’t say? Well, ain’t that the kitten’s caboodle?
Because, here’s the godforsaken thing, Universe. I’ve been keeping track of my karma and, based on my records, I have done far more good deeds than bad deeds and so, at this point, I’m starting to think my love life is not based on any sort of merit system, but is actually just a byproduct of you being really fucking bored. Or drunk. Or potentially on acid. Because, and I’m going to just throw this the hell out there: YOU DO NOT HAVE MY BEST INTEREST AT HEART. I call bullshit on The Secret and Law of Attraction and I’m just going to go ahead and say you’re a fickle, fickle bitch, Universe.
And I want zero part of your shenanigans. If my karma is shooting through the roof and you’re still pulling tricks like this, then I am forced to make bad decisions, give karma the finger and just do what I want.
Come to think of it, that sounds like a damn good time. Who’s with me? SHOTS ON ME!
I mean, not literally shots ON me. We’re not doing body shots. At least, not tonight. Oh hell, what am I saying? OF COURSE we’re doing body shots tonight.
I’ve got a reputation to protect.
xoxo,
Jamie
(Photo from collegecandy.com)
