I've been reading my friends' list, which has had so many interesting posts--amusing posts, poignant posts, and posts I really don't understand but like to read anyway. I like, somehow, that I think of my friends "as" their user icons, which I suppose makes it a relatively good thing that I do not have many friends with Tori Amos or Tori Spelling user icons, otherwise I might live in a Toriverse, a name so euphonious it evokes the Twilight Zone (although now that I think about it, one friend has a website called "Torinator", which is kinda a cool way to transmute Tori). Two quite different posts about curious memories got me thinking of silly things I've done. I remember the time I threw a party called an "un party" and served sliced pop tart squares as hors d'oevres. My co-workers, the principal invitees, were somewhat taken aback. Then there was my experiment during single days with placing a couple of "Men seeking Women" ads in the local alternative paper. I'll never forget how one won "ad of the week", and a free pizza, but got no replies. I suppose the opening line "down to earth erstwhile Christian surrealist seeks semi-cute paragon for mutual absurdity and fidelity" works better as ad copy than lifelong partner material. I think that I only went out on one date with a personal ad person, which went reasonably well, but I do remember being "stood up" by someone else. Although I probably miss something from my long-ago single days, I'm pretty sure that trying to date is not that thing. In those days just out of law school, I worked all the time. Although a secretary or two about my office indicated some interest, I always avoided office relationships. Of course, my dating exploits were not exactly the stuff of which legends are made. In high school, I actually asked the wrong woman with the exact same first and last name as the one I intended to ask to my ninth grade St. Patrick's Day banquet. The girl I asked proved to be enchantingly attractive, but conversation with a total stranger proved to be a novel thing.
I largely missed out on blind dates. I remember going on but two blind dates arranged for me. Neither was at all a match, and in both cases, I was intrigued that the person who "set up" the date imagined any potential for a match. I think that nothing tells one how odd one's friends think one is than when one's friend chooses one's blind date partner. Now that I think about it, I realize that in my life I have never had any desire to match any person up with any other person--even friends of mine I've thought were so cool that they should be with someone. Relationships are so difficult and complex, who could ever arrange them? Probably someone named Tatiana or Elke, who can run ads featuring drop-dead gorgeous "directors" of some "meet 'em for lunch, ditch 'em if you hate 'em" matchmaker service in the alternative paper, right by the restaurant guide, but not me.
Lately, I'm thinking of writing LJ posts called "100 things you may not know about me" and "100 examples of my dark side", which shows me that I have finally become a full-fledged "fill out every poll and brag that your poll result is Papa Smurf" LJ user. I liked pigri's suggestion that I write "what I like about each of my LJ friends", which will be a fun exercise. I already realize that the half-dozen unfinished novels on my friends' list should be condensed into one immense work of dada fiction genius.
Suggested new nautical prayer: "Save me from things that dwell within the sea, and stop those lawyers from calling me".