wombat

The Plague of Vaginas

It’s time I talked a little about dating. And, like most people, it’s a subject that I know little about. I don’t really date much. (Can you tell?) Sure, there are guidelines, but, guidelines are just different forms of blanket statements. So, when people say, “What have you learned from this experience?” meaning, dating a specific girl, you can only say “Absolutely nothing.” Because, sadly, everyone is different. And guidelines mean nothing. And what one person teaches you, another will prove wrong.

Vagillion – n. – (vah-JILL-yun) of or pertaining to the amount of vaginas in the world. i.e. Don’t fret, man, there’s a vagillion of ‘em out there.

This seems to be everyone’s theory on moving on. But, what about the people who fell ass-backwards into a relationship (or “situation” as so many of them boil down to)? They can't just find someone else and they’re left lonely and bored. Some days more bored. Some days more lonely. It depends on the weather, I think. But, how are they to take a statement like, “Get back in the saddle”? What saddle? There never was one! There is never any “game” or “process.” It just happens! One day you’re talking to a girl (really?), then you’re having dinner, or sex, or whatever… Then, they’re just gone. And you don’t know how you found them. So, how do you go back to having a girlfriend? How does one, who doesn’t date, ‘get back in the saddle’? How does one move on?

I have no idea. Go places? Maybe. Meet someone on the internet? Works for sagien, I think. 100% percent of the girls that’s he’s dated have been from the internet. Then, again, a lot of the girls I’ve dated I met while I was at work, or drunk in a pool hall. I guess we all have our methods. Our, “stomping grounds” if you will.

My last girlfriend I met at Borders. And we lived together for 2 years of shrill-shrieking fraud. (Well, we’ll just say that I’m having a tough time remembering the good parts right now.) How did we meet here there, you ask? Well… I already knew her. So, I approached her. Got her number. That’s it. How did I know her? Well, you see, I fell ass-backwards into a conversation with her and a couple of friends a few years prior…

So maybe that’s the magic. The secret. As with most things pleasurable it comes down to being in the right place at the right time. And after that, it’s a matter of finding out whether or not the guy/girl you end up talking to is worth your time. Al Bundy once described his perfect mate as “a hugh-hootered oriental woman, with no uterus, and no voice box, but can fry a steak like a Texan.” But, I think what I’m really interested in is a girl that understands the binary language of moisture vaporators.

Anyway… Here’s to swimmin’ with bow-legged women.

~wombat

Disclaimer: I realize that there are people in the world that have the capability to go to clubs and bars and to meet other shallow, empty, ambitionless sweethearts and morons. But, this article was not targeted towards them. It was, in fact, targeted to (primarily) myself, and whomever else seems to be plagued with social awkwardness and/or laziness.

Posted by wombat at November 3, 2003 12:13 AM