Here are ten important facts about me that have led me to abstain from dating. You’re welcome for not foisting myself upon the single straight men of the world.
1. I don’t believe in anything, and I’m not a very good liar. So if I’m the person with you in your last moments on earth, I probably won’t make you feel hopeful or comfortable with your mortality. I might even make you feel worse.
2. I take pleasure in being cranky, and I have no intention of changing this. I revel in my misery.
3. I don’t eat meat or poultry or fish, so steak and seafood restaurants are out. Also, mushrooms make me feel like someone took a fireplace bellows and pumped my stomach with air. It’s unpleasant.
4. I’m allergic to cats and dust and probably my own boogies.
5. I live in Boston, stubbornly, despite despising cold weather and feeling no love for snow. I take sick pleasure in driving maniacally in the city. I love this city. Because I love pain, apparently. It feeds me. I am a study in creative masochism.
6. I form weird alliances with inanimate objects which, when crossed, put you on my enemies list. You must understand and accept my long-standing relationships with: My ancient and wonderful Camry, my grandfather’s steamer trunk, my weird, fluffy grey zip-up cardigan sweater.
7. Sometimes I read great literature and enjoy theater and the arts. But I am not above binging on the worst television ever produced by man. I fall into a trap, lured by dark fascination, then subdued by laziness, schadenfreude, and sense of superiority over the morons that parade across my screen.
8. I might murder you. Sometimes, when I’m sitting in traffic, standing on the subway platform, or sitting in a meeting, I consider what would happen if I randomly murdered someone for no good reason. So far, I haven’t acted on the impulse. So far.
9. I may or may not have bored a snail to death. I live alone with some plants, and an aquarium filled with fish, shrimp, and frogs. I had a snail. He committed suicide after several attempts last year. I think maybe he saw something through the glass that bothered him, but who knows? I was left with a lot of questions. He went out with the trash, since I didn’t think flushing a snail shell would be a good idea. Maybe that was disrespectful.
10. Without coffee, I am nothing. An empty track suit. A social security number and a dental record. A dying house plant. Without my daily coffee ritual, I am unable to hold a conversation with you, or retain any of the syllables that have been thrown in my direction during that time.