Just saying

So this girl starts drilling me on what my “type” is. Don’t worry, she’s a friend and presumably (hopefully) off the market and just curious. Why is she curious? Because she figures if she knows my type, she can go out and find me one. Oddly enough, if it was that easy I’d just go fucking get one.

But as it stands, I really have no idea how to answer that question. It’s a little known fact that all men have the exact same type. It’s called “out of our league.” We don’t ever get it, or eternally regret it if we do. So our actual type is known as “opportunity” or “what’s available.” It sounds so crude to say it out loud, so we just feint ignorance.

I know it seems simple, but I’ve had enough people try to set me up to know that it’s not. I’d be amazed beyond all expectation of a blind date did not involve a bat shit insane woman. But realistically, who in their right mind goes on a blind date?

Old Dog, no new tricks...

Getting older is rough, let me tell ya. Your metabolism slows down, your physical recovery isn't what it used to be. Energy is a problem, so you rely on coffee and start to resent children. Eyesight, waist/hip ratio, hairline... you name it, it goes to shit.

And I've had to do some terrible, terrible things lately because of it. I mean truly awful and despicable. Heartbreaking. I've had to deny myself the cold beer my body so richly deserves after a hard days work.

It's absurd, I know.