So I'm fully using this blog as my personal forum to vent. After all, it's mine, and I can do whatever I want with it. Vent I will. I don't like any of my dates. I have had three dates in four days, and at the end of it I wanted to put something sharp and preferably red hot into my eye socket...and twist.

Date #1: Heart. Literally, there are days I wake up and think I might actually be in love with him. And it could be a beautiful thing except that he's not on board. He's not even straddling the fence. Nope. This dude is standing on the other side of the fence staring adorably and adoringly into my eyes. Still, the fence divides. I can only pass him tools - ladders and ropes and a damn chainsaw - so many times before I have no more tools to give. "Figure your own fucking way over the fence!" I want to scream. But I don't. I go to Home Depot. 

Date #2: Could have sufficed, especially in light of my silent rejection from Date #1, but he doesn't work out enough and I need to wake up next to something I long to lick. He also talks in arrogant excess. He once asked me if I was a "student of Shakespeare" and some vomit came into my mouth. Now I appreciate that he gets my Macbeth reference, and I like that we share an affinity for literature; but he doesn't use it with witty conviction. He just says it... and every other thought in his mind on and on on. He needs to take that energy to the gym.

Date #3: Doesn't even deserve this blog because he is so boring and dull that I would have more fun in a coma than on a date with him.

So the normal me would not worry about it because it's not really hard for me to find dates. But in light of the current situation with Date #1, I need these other stupid dates to distract me. No, I can't distract myself. Yes, I tried. Not any amount of working out or shopping or writing or reading or even Cirque du Soleil can distract me. Who even am I? I need to snap out of this. Suffering is not a good look for me. It gives me wrinkles and makes me feel uncomfortable, powerless, and all around horrible about something that I'm inherently really good at. Stupid suffering.

Some days I really don't know how Jesus did it on that cross.

Emma Dinzebach