A week or so ago, someone responded to my match.com ad. I was excited, despite the decade or more of disappointment with which the internet has provided me.
Why don't I ever learn?
He wrote to me all eagerness. I responded all eagerness back. It was all good for the first exchange. I asked a few simple getting to know you questions...basic pleasantries (i.e. "how are you?" "how long have you lived here?" "How was the dinner with your friends you mentioned?")
You get the gist.
To this, I get this response:
"Hey, how are you? It's great here. Just finished washing the car. Great day, isn't it? So, there's something I didn't mention. I'm HIV poz. Hope this isn't a deal breaker."
What does one say to this? I didn't know. Now aside from the whole "HIV poz" thing, can't he answer a freaking question? I mean not so much that I really cared what he said, it's just the fact that he seemed to completely ignore what I'd written. That irritates the hell out of me.
But anyway, enough of my ranting.
I respond...as gently as I can. I'm tempted to just stop emailing....because frankly even if the "HIV poz" isn't a "deal breaker" then the ignoring of my questions is.
But I don't. I wouldn't do that.
I write back asking him a few more questions...all very carefully worded as to be gentle.
He writes back...again with an inane recap of his day....no mention of anything that I'd asked.
I write back, just as inanely (hey, I can play that too)....and ask about the trip he mentioned. "Are you going to Houston to visit family then?"
Finally he responds to a question.
"I'm going out there to visit my AA friends. We're really close."
I think I laughed out loud at that. I mean really....could it get any more comic?
So, to recap:
He's an HIV "poz" "recovering alcoholic" GWM who wants a "LTR" in which there is only talk about the weather and washing the car.
Now if *only* his ad had just said so much and saved us all a lot of time.
Now, chalk this up with some of my more recent comic miscarriages of "romance"
and one gets a pretty sad picture.
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