Dazed and Depressed

This is Part Three

Part One - Alberta Is Also a Catfish

Part Two - Invisible Lies

My first misadventure in online dating continued reluctantly following my meeting with a catfish and my encounter with another liar. What could I expect after these two flops? A third time is rarely a charm. There was no third time, however, since this relationship-hunting web made me sadder than I have been in the past few months.

There are many lonely people in the world, some of them, lost souls and or minds that cannot perceive any light in the darkness. I may be one of those who can only see darkness in the light. Any dazedness is always short-lived, and the feeling of being depressed is not clinical. Sadness seems to be the best word to describe what I felt while surfing with my mouse from face to face, most of them smiling for who knows why.

Many in their 20s and 30s were, and still are, looking for men in their 40s to 90s. A few words are used to qualify such gentleman seekers, but I prefer to call them misguided. I replied to a few of them; those who sent me elaborate messages detailing how they will love me. “You are too young and I am too old for you,” I mentioned, adding that my profile is very clear about it. “Age is not an issue,” they reiterated like a silly refrain.

Many others contacted me without paying much attention to my profile, perhaps thinking and or hoping that I would also lose track of my own limiting words. I replied to a few of these as well, politely declining their invitation to chat any further. There were a few teasers, as I later named them, who would ask an unexpected question like “What is your worst fear?” I usually replied “Too much pain.”

There must be old or older men who welcome much younger women, but the mention of pain may awaken some of these women to the reality of old age and perhaps help them to understand that age does matter, especially when a few decades represent the dividing difference. Yet, there are known examples of happy marriages between much older men and young women. Charlie Chaplin and Oona O’Neill come to mind.

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Age does not matter,

she intimated aloud;

I only heard old.

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She was looking for

an old prick in camouflage;

he had to be rich.

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Happiness has a

price, namely, a white aspect

and an age on high.

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Cold as Liquid Nitrogen - A Sangfroid Sonnet

I am as cold as liquid nitrogen

Yet I surely burn if you touch my skin

My dry tears tend to hold in hydrogen

It does not matter in what way I spin.

Why do you exaggerate your coldness

Although your actions speak out without words

Appearing often as gelid boldness

As if enjoying their power in herds?

I am at least colder than when we met

I may even feel it when I stop short

It can also happen when I am wet

Or when my fatidic balls leave the court.

Is there anything I can say, baby

To contemplate a hope-giving maybe?

This dialogue continued for hours, some of it in their minds, demonstrating yet again the fallibility of the human brain. Cold love seems to be a strange oxymoron, yet it appears to exist in some minds. “I will stop to see you because I love you” is a recurring refrain. It is appalling, however, that some minds take it to mean real love. Love involves all the senses, no matter the so-called cost. Can love exist without touch, for example? If it does, it cannot be real. Another “yet” raises its head or perhaps it is its tail, namely: Yet fiction may contain the highest love of all.