My brain hurts >.<
It hurts from the sheer volume of information that it absorbed and attempting to process. Honestly, it's my fault. Here's why.
I woke at 6am this morning on my day off. Why, you ask? Because my mind was on fire with the amount of photographic items I was inspired to attend to. I was so engrossed with it, that a text reminder was received reminding me I had a haircut appointment with my buddy Brian.
After my buzz, we grabbed brunch for grub. Our convo landed on online dating that was occasionally interrupted by the hottie Hannah, the server, that was mildly distracting to me. We agreed that same sex and opposite sex dating online has no real differences in the dynamics at play. First you meet, then you try to learn or discover the other to the point of a decision - do we have that first date or not.
Then you do, and you must decide if a second or third date is warranted.
I shared with him that the woman I had been seeing, who I'll refer to as AT&T, had quit each other on Super Bowl Sunday. Then I moved on to the second date with the Humanitarian from Montana. I proclaimed that there will not be a third date. I continued to share that I received an email from her, but hadn't read it, already knowing the contents of it.
I call it the "Dear John" email.
He pressed me to open the email and read it. It was short, sweet, and to the point: no spark, no need to continue.
He remarked that I should be grateful that I received that. He shared with me his online dating woes. Very similar to mine, and it's not my story to relay to the world so suffice to say comparing notes was easy.
I told him my eHarmony membership expires at the end of the month. Or rather, I'm gonna kill it because the promotional rate expires. I thought quickly about my experience. I've met some great women, dated a few, that just didn't have that je ne sais quois I'm looking for. I want to be twitterpated, I want to be in love.
I remarked that I should really concentrate on manifesting my girl instead of wasting my time with online bullshit. He replied and said I should just stop looking. That the girl of my dreams is probably trying to catch you, but I haven't slowed down long enough for her to do that. I grumbled, if you wanna talk about bullshit, then that was bullshit that you said to me.
We shared an uncomfortable laugh. What happens if none of our workflows, 'work out'?
On the drive home, I wrestled with our convo. Jesus, what's it gonna take? It's my confidence, or ability to date. I've proven that a billion times over. And starting, maintaining relationships, are not an issue either. That last terrace to reach is the bitch of the whole deal. Yes, pun intended!
I firmly believe that I must sit down and manifest this girl while I continue to do the activities I love doing. I'll encounter her faster than I believe.
Then... tonight is family dinner which I inspired. Towards the end of the night, Dad decided on bestowing me the Heritage of Bayne Box. WTF, you say? You and me both, I've never heard of this. Apparently, Dad has items of his grandpa, his dad, and lastly his items.
And he opened it up - a plastic tote. His beloved plastic totes. I smirked a little. So he proceeded to explain each item in there, all have a rich history, and deep sentimental value. He displayed many photos that desperately need my retouching attention. Some were from 1914 in Paris! Obviously, to me I want to scan to digitally archive this gems before the damn paper simply falls apart into dust.
His grandfather, my great grandfather, Robert Henry Bayne, was quite the super star in his day working on various public works projects. His father, my grandfather, Robert Wallace Bayne was no slouch either, each had plenty of objects even in their deaths. Their son, my father, Charles Cleve Bayne, is as awesome. He replaced all the items into the plastic tote, closed it and slid it over to my chair.
He mentioned he wanted me to be the custodian of the Bayne history, to take care of the Heritage Box that has family history in it dating back to the 1875. I about lost my $H!T. In fact, I think I did. Not that I need to be reminded of this fact, but the Bayne surname either lives or dies with me.
You see, Robert W Bayne, had two sons - Charles and Robert. Robert did have a family, but only sired girls. Charles, my dad, had only one son - yours truly. He said he won't demand for me to sire a boy like "the English do", but it sure would be nice.
Of course, it would.
I am painfully aware of I haven't given him grandchildren which would thrill him to no end. I understand that. However, I would haul off and settle for mediocre woman only to impregnate her to continue the family lineage.
That's counter productive. Mostly ridiculous.
In one day, I've started with dating sucks - I'm never finding Mrs Right to I'm the custodian of the family history which may or may not continue with me depending if I find Mrs Right to bore offspring.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Like I stated at the top of my post, my brain hurts. And it's all my fault >.<
It hurts from the sheer volume of information that it absorbed and attempting to process. Honestly, it's my fault. Here's why.
I woke at 6am this morning on my day off. Why, you ask? Because my mind was on fire with the amount of photographic items I was inspired to attend to. I was so engrossed with it, that a text reminder was received reminding me I had a haircut appointment with my buddy Brian.
After my buzz, we grabbed brunch for grub. Our convo landed on online dating that was occasionally interrupted by the hottie Hannah, the server, that was mildly distracting to me. We agreed that same sex and opposite sex dating online has no real differences in the dynamics at play. First you meet, then you try to learn or discover the other to the point of a decision - do we have that first date or not.
Then you do, and you must decide if a second or third date is warranted.
I shared with him that the woman I had been seeing, who I'll refer to as AT&T, had quit each other on Super Bowl Sunday. Then I moved on to the second date with the Humanitarian from Montana. I proclaimed that there will not be a third date. I continued to share that I received an email from her, but hadn't read it, already knowing the contents of it.
I call it the "Dear John" email.
He pressed me to open the email and read it. It was short, sweet, and to the point: no spark, no need to continue.
He remarked that I should be grateful that I received that. He shared with me his online dating woes. Very similar to mine, and it's not my story to relay to the world so suffice to say comparing notes was easy.
I told him my eHarmony membership expires at the end of the month. Or rather, I'm gonna kill it because the promotional rate expires. I thought quickly about my experience. I've met some great women, dated a few, that just didn't have that je ne sais quois I'm looking for. I want to be twitterpated, I want to be in love.
I remarked that I should really concentrate on manifesting my girl instead of wasting my time with online bullshit. He replied and said I should just stop looking. That the girl of my dreams is probably trying to catch you, but I haven't slowed down long enough for her to do that. I grumbled, if you wanna talk about bullshit, then that was bullshit that you said to me.
We shared an uncomfortable laugh. What happens if none of our workflows, 'work out'?
On the drive home, I wrestled with our convo. Jesus, what's it gonna take? It's my confidence, or ability to date. I've proven that a billion times over. And starting, maintaining relationships, are not an issue either. That last terrace to reach is the bitch of the whole deal. Yes, pun intended!
I firmly believe that I must sit down and manifest this girl while I continue to do the activities I love doing. I'll encounter her faster than I believe.
Then... tonight is family dinner which I inspired. Towards the end of the night, Dad decided on bestowing me the Heritage of Bayne Box. WTF, you say? You and me both, I've never heard of this. Apparently, Dad has items of his grandpa, his dad, and lastly his items.
And he opened it up - a plastic tote. His beloved plastic totes. I smirked a little. So he proceeded to explain each item in there, all have a rich history, and deep sentimental value. He displayed many photos that desperately need my retouching attention. Some were from 1914 in Paris! Obviously, to me I want to scan to digitally archive this gems before the damn paper simply falls apart into dust.
His grandfather, my great grandfather, Robert Henry Bayne, was quite the super star in his day working on various public works projects. His father, my grandfather, Robert Wallace Bayne was no slouch either, each had plenty of objects even in their deaths. Their son, my father, Charles Cleve Bayne, is as awesome. He replaced all the items into the plastic tote, closed it and slid it over to my chair.
He mentioned he wanted me to be the custodian of the Bayne history, to take care of the Heritage Box that has family history in it dating back to the 1875. I about lost my $H!T. In fact, I think I did. Not that I need to be reminded of this fact, but the Bayne surname either lives or dies with me.
You see, Robert W Bayne, had two sons - Charles and Robert. Robert did have a family, but only sired girls. Charles, my dad, had only one son - yours truly. He said he won't demand for me to sire a boy like "the English do", but it sure would be nice.
Of course, it would.
I am painfully aware of I haven't given him grandchildren which would thrill him to no end. I understand that. However, I would haul off and settle for mediocre woman only to impregnate her to continue the family lineage.
That's counter productive. Mostly ridiculous.
In one day, I've started with dating sucks - I'm never finding Mrs Right to I'm the custodian of the family history which may or may not continue with me depending if I find Mrs Right to bore offspring.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Like I stated at the top of my post, my brain hurts. And it's all my fault >.<
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