Burdens
It is said that a burden shared is a burden halved.
Of course they key to sharing a burden is having someone to share it with.
Something I am lacking.
So instead, I’ll write another post on this blog.
Firstly, I spent hours yesterday reading every profile on one of the major dating websites.
Or at least every profile of a woman between 18-40 who lived “near” me – which managed to include some women from Northern Sydney and Newcastle.
There was around 400 of these profiles, and out of those 400 there was around 10 who didn’t explicitly exclude me on basic characteristics like height and age.
Out of those 10 there was only 2 who were interesting.
2 out of 400…. that’d be 0.5%.
Not at all a surprise, but still depressing. Especially since most of these women were rejecting me based on a quality that I didn’t decide, and can’t change.
My height is as much a part of me as my skin colour, and the feelings such discrimination brings up are similar to what I assume someone who is discriminated based on their skin colour feels.
Of course, my burden isn’t all about my height, as this quote from a different paradigm of dating sites will show: “Unfortunately, we are not able to make our profiles work for you. Our matching model could not accurately predict with whom you would be best matched”
Even the computers think women don’t like me.
Now, to another burden, one that is similarly depressing – but is not just me ranting about being eternally single.
A bit over a month ago one of the cats had a baby, not surprisingly it was the female one that did so.
This baby kitten did the usual baby kitten things: eating, sleeping and being cute.
On occasion it would go for a wander, and its mother would carry it back to “safety”.
Now being a complete loser, having no job or friends or romantic relationships, means that I was somewhat tasked with making sure it was okay – since I never leave the house.
A week or so ago, on a Saturday, I was the only one at home as my brother was at work, and my parents were out being good consumers.
I was mostly sitting on the couch watching TV of some kind.
At one point I wandered into the kitchen to get a beverage took a glance at the kitten. It wasn’t moving and my first thought was “I hope its not dead”, but I dismissed it since the mother cat seemed content.
I went back to watching TV.
Then my parents got home.
And my first thought was correct. It was dead.
I would of loved to have called someone, or gone and met with someone and talked (and cried, and been hugged and comforted). Especially since this felt like it was my fault.
But there wasn’t anyone to share the burden with.
So the burden joins all the rest, never shared, just buried, repressed, slowly poisoning my soul.
And no one was asked in a long time: “Are you gonna be okay?”
Which is good, because the truthful answer is:
No.
Probably not.