update: oh dear

Hey there, guys and gals! I know that many of y’all who have already soulmated are living vicariously through the sexy stories on my blog. The Shallow Brigade is nothing if not the story of a swinging single. Remember how I yacked all over the public sphere and hid it from my suitor a few weeks ago? I know most of you were reading that in your nightshirt and cap thinking that was 2 HOTT 4 U.

I mean, that was an awesome thing that happened that did not force me to consider murder-suicide at all, not for one single second.

But seriously, because I’m neurotic, I’m not one of those people who can just shake off their puke date. To counteract the shame-loss, I make it a point not to lie to myself. So instead of telling myself, “Hey, champ, it’s okay,” I try to keep it real. And, at the time, my realistic assessment of the situation was that things couldn’t get much worse.

Of course, that was before I might have inadvertently started dating a retarded person.

Remember how I wrote that mean-spirited post about my mentally retarded Facebook friend?

Not so long after that, I worried he might actually happen upon that post after I FB linked to this blog re: the gift shop. But then I remembered that res can’t read good, etc., so I wasn’t all that worried about it.

Then, last night, as though conjured by my cruelty and half-hearted concern, the re sent me an instant message (“Hey girl”) after I logged off Facebook that I didn’t receive until this morning. And I was like, whew. I just wasn’t in the mood to have another IM convo with this retarded person. I mean, we’ve already talked about his nephew(?) and everything. Plus, I don’t like res.

Today, I was out xmas shopping and didn’t log on to FB until evening. Immediately, I received another “Hey girl” from the re. I wouldn’t have thought anything of the timing until, a few back-and-forths later, he ASKED FOR MY PHONE NUMBER. Which, coming from a retard, I’m pretty sure is like asking for worn panties.

A struggle ensued. On one hand, I am barely nice enough to IM the retarded; I’m hardly capable of talking to one on the phone. On the other hand, I really didn’t want to hurt his feelings. As a compromise, I gave him my landline with the caveat that “I don’t like talking on the phone.”

So, basically, he’s retarded, we’re together, and I’ll post any voicemail messages to that effect right here just as soon as they surface.