Oregon COASTING Through The Weekend

I am spending the weekend at the Oregon Coast with my friend, C. C and I used to date and were in love... he broke my heart out of stupidity and I learned to value myself enough to not expect anything from him, so now we get along great... I haven't met anybody else, so we are doing mushrooms at the coast. I am not on mushrooms, but he is playing Mario Bros on Nintendo... what else are you going to do when it's gorgeous outside and there is beer in the fridge at three in the afternoon. He just grabbed a drink, the beer is peeking over my computer, in between C and I- as usual!

Last night we walked into "town" just to laugh at a town smaller than the expansive presence that we are. We were the ones driving an hour and a half to get here. Who spends that much effort to enjoy and simultaneously break something down? Parents, the Government and Us, I guess.

I wrote an earlier blog talking about how I made love to potatoes... then I cut it, thinking I would write something more relevant to the times, but... I am only writing right now as an exercise, not because I'm inspired. It's the same reason I have sex, really.

Not really. The reason I actually have sex is to fake some sense of authenticity between myself and whoever I'm seeing at the time. Pumping and grinding to feel something in this void, this sea of potatoes; fingerling potatoes.

I love potatoes, but our relationship makes me fat. Potatoes don't break my heart, which is a nice respite from fellows I have dated in the past- the drinkers. The only difference is that potatoes can't drive- at least that's what the officer said that one time I got pulled over for driving under the influence and insisted my "friend" would take it from here. He let me know the towns' traffic laws about legumes and such and I let him know that the 50's were so last year- I could love whomever I choose and he should drive because I'm a *hiccup* lady.

There it is, much needed potato commentary.

Oh, Alright Cupid... Get In Here!

My dear friend has been going on so many internet dates, I don't have anyone to hang out with anymore. Such thing there isn't a lot we don't share, I started a page on the same site. If I go on dates, I'll just talk about her experiences in life, all while wearing her socks, jacket and back pack... like I don't do or have anything of my own. It's either that or talk about my ex.

My internet dates will ask me about what I like to do and I will say "Rachel speaks Spanish."

Here is the difference between Rachel and I; She is doing things with her life that will help low income people and I want to meet some one who has money. It's not so much that I want to meet someone who has money, as I don't want to do anything for the poor. My ex doesn't have any money and all I've wanted to do are things for him, to help him realize his own potential and feel good about who he is... then he can get it together enough to realize that we would be so happy together in San Francisco. However, my efforts were squandered and now I just end up yelling at homeless people because he isn't around anymore.

HOMELESS GUY: Spare some change, Miss?

ME: [screaming] I can miss you, but I can't change you! [sobs into scarf]

HOMELESS GUY: [to himself] It's a numbers game, Pete.

It's a numbers game... dating and consequently (for me), loving. It's like Scientology invented romance and while everyone else is getting on that space ship of love, I'm locked in limbo with Captain Xenu. So I have decided to surf the international house of hot cakes AKA "OKcupid"....

SIDE RANT:

"OKcupid" is the name of the internet dating site I joined with my friend and I think their ad campaign should go something like this:
"OKcupid- you fix it!"
"OKcupid, what's the deal?!"
"OKcupid, your arrow better be dipped in something fierce, because I have developed a tolerance [the chorus line to Robert Palmer's "Addicted to Love" plays in background]"
"Oh- Okcupid, like some cherub is going to crawl inside of this shriveling uterus and give me a legacy."

END SCENE.

I created my account, answered some questions and went over to Rachel's a day later. She has been going on so many dates lately, she called in sick (to her date), so she could hang out with her favorite person: sweat pants. I came over too. She and I pulled up our accounts and went shopping (our favorite!), but because we are both pretty broke we went shopping for men (shoes wont put a baby in this barren wasteland 5 years from now). Her quick match brought up all sorts of dark, beautiful men, albiet a bit young for my taste. My quick match brought up HUNDREDS of dorky, ugly men. One guy (ironically, the most attractive of my entire brigade) called himself "Atractus" and when I quipped "more like UNatractus" Rachel and I laughed so hard, we realized we don't need men. Besides I can't ask a date to wax my ass crack and Rachel is more than down (pun?).
The reason she is getting more viable hits than me is because she has beautiful hair and isn't a gold digger. I'm not a gold digger, I'm just not open minded. I think, ultimately, I prefer that kinetic spark of seeing someone in a coffee shop, yoga or through their car window as he speeds by and thinking "what if?". What if I see him again? What if he asks me out? What if he turns around? What if I get mugged in front of him and I end up laying out 3 bad guys while he films it so he can tag me on Facebook later?

Soul Mates.