Dearest Rachel -
The other evening, I was browsing through my YouTube feed. It's probably not the best thing for me to be doing at the end of the night – the last thing I need to be doing is keeping myself up by staring at a screen – but I absolutely hate having those little red dots in the corner of my apps.
Most of the time, I just check what's there, and then close the app and move on, but every so often, there is something that grabs my attention. This time, one of our old favorite animators had a short story for us viewers. She's been known to have had bad luck in terms of maintaining a permanent relationship, but for the most part, it's a peripheral part of her overall storyline (it's not like there's much about it that makes for humorous cartoon fodder, apart from the fact that her boyfriends tend to find those happy permanent relationships right after breaking up with her; thanks to certain fan responses about such incidents, she actually briefly stylized herself as "the girlfriend fairy" because of this apparent talent).
It seems that, while she was out shopping at some point in the recent past, some young gentleman noted that she lacked a ring on her finger, which she acknowledged (with a measure of reluctance, as this was an observation made out of the blue – I want to make clear that I more than understand her level of caution, given the sudden broaching of the subject). Given this confirmation, said young man further asked if she even had a boyfriend, to which she also responded in the negative.
It's at this point that he offered himself up for the position, and she proceeded to visualize the exchange as if it was part of a 1920s era radio spot: "are you sick and tired of looking for love? well, have we got a deal for you!" complete with giant, old-timey radio microphone, crackling audio and a handlebar mustache pasted onto her would-be suitor. Amusing, of course, but we all know the success ratio of advertisements overall; they generate enough business to keep the advertiser profitable, and the ad money flowing into the station, but they're ignored as best they can be by the general listening population.
Of course, it wasn't as if she could simply ignore the pitch when it was delivered straight to her face like this, and with a slightly trepidatious "uhh… no, thanks," she turned him down. Much to her surprise, he responded with a nonchalant "oh, okay," and walked off. She concluded her short by offering him kudos for both having the guts to shoot his shot, and the grace to walk away when denied. Most of the comments seemed to agree with her, too. Dude went for broke, and when it didn't pay off, left unphased by the wasted time and effort; good for him on both counts.
You can probably tell by the fact I bring it up, and the tone in which I do, that I wasn't quite agreeing with this. Oh, I agree he had guts, and I admire his graciousness in defeat, but I'm not a big fan of the Edison method of discovery: "well, we know what doesn't work now." As I recall the story, it took him and his team 6,000 tries to find a better filament through trial and error; when you consider applying that approach to the dating scene, you understand why I'm not so sure this fellow's approach was all that praiseworthy.
Still, I probably should've refrained from saying anything. I'd forgotten what the YouTube's comment section was like. I actually didn't expect a response to my comment, but I certainly got one… basically along the lines of "shaddup, you whiny little incel." Actually, the word was 'cynical,' rather than 'whiny,' but the implication was still there. It was pointed out to me that I wouldn't have made the effort to approach her in the store (which is quite correct; that wouldn't be an appropriate time or place for that sort of thing, as far as I'm concerned), and I would've been no better off than he was (not that I would have been any worse off, I should point out), so I had no right to talk.
But the worst thing about the comment was how accurate it was. Pick the adjective, and it probably fits me. I admit, some of these letters do sort of seem like I'm whining about the bad hand that I've been dealt with your departure. And you were teasing me about my cynicism long before you left – although, to be fair, there were times when I wore that label as a badge of honor, and others where I insisted that I was a 'realist' rather than a 'cynic' per se. But the point still stands; there's nothing that adds to the sting of an insult than having to acknowledge its veracity.
And as for the 'incel' slur, what can I say? Celibacy doesn't come more involuntary than losing you to an accident like I did. Granted, the true punch of this particular insult is supposed to be in the implication that "no one will ever love you (at least not that way), you miserable waste of food and oxygen," but that would be belied by my past. Then again, my future doesn't necessarily look all that hopeful with regard to this situation; hey, I know what my odds look like in terms of finding a second special someone…
Aw, drat. Now I'm whining again. See, the commenter was right. And that's why I had to tell you about this, because the fact that he was right stings just that much more than what he had to say. If he had said that to me while you were still here, I could just laugh and shrug it off, because I knew better. Then again, if you were still here, I wouldn't have made the comment in the first place, because it wouldn't have occurred to me.
Or would it? I could imagine myself asking you if that would've worked on you, and I'd wager your response would be similar to Rebecca's. Which still moves us with the question of, "so what would work?" which will probably remain unanswered until such time as something actually does. While only it's true that we guys complain a lot that we don't understand what women want from us, it may well be because they don't either. Does that sound like a reasonable conclusion to you?
Anyway, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I'm clearly going to need it.
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