Someone's knockin' at the door

Somebody's ringin' the bell Someone's knockin' at the door Somebody's ringin' the bell Do me a favor, open the door and let 'em in

Guilty. I have a “freebie” posted on Singlesnet.com. You don’t have to pay anything to be on there.. But.. If you don’t pay, all you can do is forward :”I like your photo”, “I would like to talk to you”, “Hey there!”, “How are you!”, or, “I like your essay.” (and that’s all they can reply to as well, IF you don’t fork out bucks to become member.)

For whatever reason, I think I’ve been “stuck online” and my profile is showing up like FIRST when old fart ladies search. What usedta be one or two “she’s interested in you” emails, is now up to like twelve per hour. I can’t keep up.

I look. I click “delete”, I’m a pig.

What is it about “Clicking delete” people outta your life?

Are you saying like “I AM SOMEBODY - HOW DARE YOU”.. or are you admitting, “I’m sorry, it just ‘ain’t there.’ (The feel/chemistry kinda thing.)

I’m saying like “I know there will be women who look at me and immediately think ‘no way Jose’, but in the same light, I can tell at first glance ‘huh uh.’ Color me pigola eh?

It’s a bit of a rush to be “stuck” on singlesnet.com’s #1 position.. But I ain’t worthy. Hell, if they’d rank by bankroll, I’d be somewhere on page 2,532.. If they’d rank by “what’s he drive?” I’d be on page 1,343.

At present, I’m number one.

This dating crap, especially at fitty-five.. It’s so hurtful.. So selfish.. So “what in the hell am I gonna do”… u do meet and it’s like “if this is good, and we one day move in together, this is sooo much ‘her place’… I want ‘our place’… It’s “my stuff” and “her stuff”.

Sometimes u get together, and after awhile it’s soooo much “wow… she’s pretty cool.. But when she __________ < (does that behavior) I’m like really repulsed… Can I live with being occasionally repulsed?

Set in our ways, I guess I’m here to say.

I ain’t had a “real date” in sometime. I reckon that is due to “eh, this one didn’t work out, why should I even try that one?”

My stuff. Her stuff. My baggage. Her baggage. Her kids. My kids.. Howinthehell is this all to work? It was soooooooooooooooo much easier when we were just young and horny as hell. We didn’t think about “her stuff, my stuff.” We just opted. Acted. Frothed.

I ain’t opted since 1982. I understand the “like sand thru the hourglass, so go the days of our lives.”… I see it building up on the bottom bubble.

Bottomline, it’s hard to start over again. Mentally, we’re faced with “well this shit happened last time, who’s to say it won’t happen again? Mebbe I’m better off just being me… with only me to think of.

Tune in tomorrow when, this lonely old fart who’s presently by some weird technical snafu (wonderful mist-step), is no longer #1 on singles net.com. I’ll prolly be frothing for female interaction, so froth away.

Love, Victurd