I’m In Love With A Girl That Doesn’t Exist

It’s true. I’m in love with a girl that doesn’t exist. I don’t even know her name. Actually, she doesn’t have a name because she lives in my head. I don’t even really know what she looks like. Sometimes I think she looks like Zooey Deschanel. But most of the time she’s kinda of a blur.

Mostly I know that she doesn’t like all of the same things I do, thinks different from me, and makes me laugh. I like her because she’s “real” with me.

Yeah, I’m in love with a fantasy of a girl that gets pissed at me and tells me no!

I guess I’m kind of a realist when it comes to fantasy (at least the kind of fantasy I can freely divulge on this blog). I think I know why though. I think it’s because deep down, at the core of it all, I’m a desperately practical man. As much crap as I talk, as crazy as I’m able to think, deep down I analyze the situation and take the safe, easy route. The one that won’t land me in jail. The one that won’t rape my wallet. The one that won’t make me look attractive to the kind of girls I really (think I) want to meet.

God I have a lot to change…

Well, my rum and coke is empty, so I guess I’ll stop there.

Is this a good post? I guess I don’t care. I have rum to drink and girls in bikinis in tropical Mexico to watch.

Oh,  and the whole “changing the inner-me” stuff to work on.

Still single and sitting alone in a hotel room drinking rum and thinking about life, my core being, and girls in bikinis,

Scott

[FYI Context Update: As of 1:42 am the author would like to note that a 750 ml bottle of Tommy Bahama (yes, of the Hawaiian Shirt variety) Rum that was 1/4 empty prior to the nights events is now standing at 3/4 empty! Yes, I drank half the bottle tonight! Oops! Scott]

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Pre-Holiday Advice Response

Sabina,

I do believe “Eric” is actually Latin for “Lazy Blogger”, so give me a friggin’ break!!! HE HE HE

No, I don’t actually have those problems. My family decided I was lame a long time ago and just don’t expect anything out of me.

I do actually have the problem of hating being alone for the holidays though. Not that I’m not happy with being single. I really am way too good at being single.

No. What I have a problem with is the holiday kissing traditions! You know, the mistletoe and the New-Years-Eve-spit-swap. I have never actually had the opportunity to take part in any of those traditions! (at least I don’t remember any, which tells you how lame my dating life has been, since I know I’ve had at least one girlfriend during the holidays)

As for advice for you…

I say buck up and deal with it this year. No drinking. No drugging. Just take it and say thank you! Because, the simple fact is that the only people that are bothering with the questions obviously don’t know you or your life. So they don’t f-ing matter! Besides, it will make the flight to London that much sweeter, knowing that you have thousands of miles of ocean between you and the questions!

And heck, if you don’t like that idea, well… I’ll give you my phone number. They can call and talk to me. I’ll be your American lover that met you on an impetuous trip to Mexico City! The distance and family obligations here kept me from making it down there during the holidays.

You can tell them I’m planning on meeting you in London, as I too will be going to University in England. It’s a small Welsh school of animal husbandry (I’m hoping to breed Peruvian Inca Orchids for use as sled-dogs) that you have forgotten the name of. Tell them I am very good with children, but very unsure about my ability to father any thanks to a unicycle accident as a child.

We can work on the backstory more later. I’m thinking Indiana Jones meets Bridget Jones Diary.

Still single and looking forward to breeding South American dogs in England!

Scott Eric Weaver