Where has the spark gone?
Hmm. I’m considering not dating for a while. Maybe it is just me (granted, I am pretty quirky so it probably IS me) but I am not in a situation where I feel a spark (the closest I come to lately is a fire under my ass getting me to run to my car as quickly as possible) with guys that I date. And yes, I did recently jog to my car while evading a goodnight makeout session. This leads me to an array of questions:
Is it possible that no one feels the spark? Maybe no one feels a spark, they just meet people whose company doesn’t make them: roll their eyes, run for the door, throw up a little, or have a “Crying Game Moment” in the shower. And as a result decide to stick with that person for a while and…you know…hump them.
Have I been using all of my sparky-like moments at work? While trying to get an absurdly awkward alt teen to understand a concept in Othello or the genius that is a Chuck Close painting, it is possible that I used up all of my spark-coupons. Thank goodness they pay teachers so well, otherwise I’d be getting f**ked here. Oh wait…Oh f**k!
Does the spark take a few rounds? I have been thinking about this one a lot lately, after wondering if I am…how do you say…JUDGMENTAL. Here is what I have come up with, a camping metaphor. If it took me the three hours that I invest in a first date to create a spark while lighting a campfire, I would have decided that the campfire wasn’t for me, and either headed to a neighboring campsite to make friends/warmth, OR packed up my gear and headed out of this cold-ass campsite. How effing long should it take to realize that you never want this person to see your vagina? EVER! Even after eleven cocktails! And frankly, he should see it!
Blech. Too many questions to consider. I think I need to sit this quarter out and watch the game from the sidelines.
