I love your wide variety of interesting columns. When I feel crushed by loneliness, boom, there's a letter from some woman feeling the same way. When I wonder why it's so damned hard to find dates, boom, there's another letter from some woman saying the same thing. When I wonder if I have some inner failing that's keeping me from finding companionship, I read a letter from someone who's clearly insane and feel much, much better about myself.
I just wanted to thank you for offering some nice perspective. I'm not a fan of the whole schadenfreude thing, but it surely is nice to know I'm not alone out there.
Another Man in the Rainy City
Sweet pea, you just slid your finger across one of the main reasons I love writing this column: Every couple days, I get hard evidence that there's someone more miserable than I am running around out there.
Now it's time for a horrible Dategirl confession along the same lines. With the holidays upon us and nary a date in sight, I have to admit I was the teensiest bit jealous when my friend Rich called last night to tell me that he'd just met a hot chick while walking down the street. She was cute, liked him, and they were going out to dinner that very night. I tried my best to be sincerely happy for him, but why wasn't it me meeting cute fellas!?!? However, envy is ugly, so I mustered up all the support I could manage, wished him luck, and told him I'd be expecting a full report in the morning. And a full report I got.
With his permission, I'm going to reprint it here.
The girl from last night is a nut. Let me list:
1. Admitted to chronic fatigue syndrome, arthritis, a nervous breakdown, a therapist, taking medsall over dinner.
2. Has a drinking problem: two glasses of wine at dinner (no problem); a beer with a vodka chaser, twice, after dinner; admitted she couldn't see straight, but still insisted we stop for more when we got closer to her house (apple martini, while I had a Coke); would not leave a drop untouchedhad to drink it all. Then we had to walk to the store for more beer to bring home. She also asked me to buy her a bottle of vodka. (I didn't.)
3. Is a Wiccan who is in a coven and performs rituals (didn't ask for details).
4. Has five cats and makes up pretend baby voices for each of them. She'd ask the cat a question and then say the answer in her pretend baby voice, insisting that this was actually the cat talking. This didn't happen once, but several times.
5. Watched Reality Date TV until I insisted she turn it off.
6. She sleeps on a pull-out couch. (My back! my back!)
Conclusion: There are no normal people attracted to me . . . ever!
Prior to receiving this e-mail, I believed that I was the Freak Magnet in our relationship because:
I also have been out with chronic over-sharersthe type who expounds upon his insane paranoiac conspiracy theories, confesses inappropriate feelings of lust for his mom, and assures you over and over (unprompted) that he would never hit a girlall prior to appetizer arrival.
God knows I've also dated the drunkypants. My last LTR was with an alkie, and I'd find myself waking up at last call because my body clock grew so accustomed to being woken up by his drunk ass shortly after the bars quit serving.
I've never once dated a warlock, though that's probably because I am not down with the long-hair look.
This chick actually believes she's channeling her kitties whilst employing the always excruciating baby voice?! I'm not easily frightened, but this broad's scary. And youyou went home with her anyway!! I can't decide if I'm impressed or appalled. But what I do know is that you've stolen the title of Maniac Magnet from me, and for that you've earned my eternal thanks!
You're not alone. Write Dategirl at firstname.lastname@example.org or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western Ave., Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.