OK, I think I have finally figured out why the dating scene is so tough
for me. And no, it has nothing to do with me not being sensitive
enough; or being afraid of commitment; or being afraid or opposed to a
strong, successful woman; or not having a job; or being too fat. In
fact, that’s what is so surprising and confounding about it. I have
all those things that those over-thirty, biological-clock-ticking –
dare I say desperate – single women claim they want. I am everything
those women say they desire in a man, but say they can’t find anymore,
anywhere. But, after much investigation and soul searching, I have
figured out the problem: I can’t dance.
Yep; it is as simple as that. I absolutely despise going into one of
those horribly loud, chokingly smoky, dimly lit bars (or night clubs, or
discos, or whatever they’re calling them these days), walking out
to the middle of the floor, and shaking myself silly in a futile attempt
to look “cool.” I see absolutely no sense in taking a shower,
dressing in freshly washed and ironed clothes, and dashing myself with
the most expensive and alluring cologne I can buy, only to sweat myself
and my clothes to the point where even I can’t stand being around
The Edge of Darkness
I guess it started when I was in elementary school – physical
education (or gym, as we called it back in the dark ages). To me, gym
was baseball, dodgeball, or tag, or even gymnastics. But every six weeks
or so, the gym teacher would line us up for 60 minutes of the joy of...
square dancing. Now, if there’s anything more stupid than a bunch
of eight-year olds trying to listen to the gym teacher shouting out
“do-si-do” commands over the voice of Patsy Cline, I honestly
don’t know what it is. (All right, I suppose that square dancing to
the singing of Janis Joplin would have been a bit more idiotic –
thank goodness this was just slightly before her time.) I don’t
imagine that the gym teacher much enjoyed it, either. After all, I doubt
seriously if Coach Heinlen went to college just so that he could teach a
bunch of kids how to do an “allemande-left.”
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Hershel's kinda-like-a bio: