Thanateros, Thou Double-Headed God-Figure

Death and sex. Sex and death. I have invoked these two deities and since then, I have yet to free myself from their torment. They have plagued my every day thoughts and they creep up on me, taunting me at my inability to attain any distance on either of them. I am denied sex, so I wish to die. Death refuses me, so I am forced to seek comfort through sex. Lovely.

I'll admit, it's not as melodramatic as I put it. I'm probably writing this only because I am currently sitting at Hallowed Grounds and an extremely attractive guy in a red shirt is sitting right next to me (he can't read it what I am typing and even if he could, he's too busy discussing black metal with my friend). As usual, I'm sulking in the background, pretending to be invisible, or failing to play the role of the demure temptress. Finding men is an extremely difficult task for me, considering the percentage of men attracted to males is not anywhere near a fifth of the population of men, and those that are seek some youthful Apollo, not this gorgon with an extremely foul attitude (don't forget, the flaaaabs of fat). I have attempted to go through the entire "accept yourself for who you are" facade promoted by pop psychology and the self-help industry. I've even done away with any standards, because then I'd be "too selective" and weed out "potential great guys." Riiiight. First of all, I might have high standards, but men who are attracted to men tend to have outrageous standards, or at least standards that I cannot meet.

Let us break this down into the choices that will generate the extremely low probability of my finding an attractive man who is also attracted to me (or just any man attracted to me at all).

-Condition 1: Men who are attracted to men. Self-explanatory.

-Condition 2: Men who are attracted to Asian males. An extremely daunting parameter, seeing as how the construction of homosexuality is extremely European.

-Condition 3: Men who are attracted to non-anorexic Asian males. Let's face it, Asians are, in general, pretty slim. Besides, I'm probably fatter than the average American as it is.

-Condition 4: Men who are attracted to men and do not attack non-Socialists. The "gay" identity is constructed on progressivism and a radical sense of egalitarianism to the point of forcing collectivism. The position of the so-called "gay" community is pretty left-leaning, so libertarians like me wouldn't really be welcome (or, rather, their rabid socialism wouldn't really be welcome to playful discourse, considering how they get all huffy and puffy at the slightest hint of otherificationization or whatever those PoMosexuals love to say nowadays).

These first four conditions will undoubtedly slim down the selection pool by quite a bit. In fact, choosing a significance parameter of 0.05 (I know that this is abusing statistical theory, but you get my point), these four conditions alone make it impossible to find men who gave even the slightest bit of probability to be attracted to me, and this statistic is based on the most superficial of things--I thought it would've been too depressing to see what the probability would be if I added "tolerant to my talking" to the conditions.
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It is officially two weeks since I first started this post (I started the post on 31 May, 2007--during which time, I have learned that the person I was gawking at was actually awkwardly trying to flirt with my friend and they ended up on an awkward date with an awkward ending that allows for me to make fun of my friend and bring up the whole awkwardness of the situation over and over and over again), and I still have much to complain about. I add here my complaints regarding the foibles of online dating. eHarmony is geared towards evangelical Christians and God knows I cannot afford the monthly premiums of personals and dating services online, so I have turned to Craigslist. Unfortunately, there are more ass and dick pictures littered across than face pictures, and the typical post reads:

Me: [Insert Height Here], [Insert Weight Here], [Insert Waist Size Here], GWM, VGL, athletic, hung, [Insert Inflated Cock Size Here], horny as hell, d/d free (u be to.)
You: Hot, inshape, no fats, no femmes

Um... right. I guess I have no right to complain; obviously some people regard physical stature as more important than intelligence. I have to admit, if I didn't say that looks were important, I'd be a hypocrite. But this entire deal is making me want to tear my hair out. I know what the solution is--go to the gym, drop 50 pounds, look fabulous, and get a tan (and who says that skin cancer runs in my family?) Yet, why do I have the feeling that this is not the only thing I have to work on?

Maybe it is the whole physical body thing. I've hated my weak constitution for as long as I can remember. I'm not morbidly obese, but I can't really say that I'm the gymnast I used to be. Truth be told, I enjoy this sedentary lifestyle because there is something soothing about hating the way you look and doing more to make sure that you become even more miserable. What makes it worse is the fact that I'm not that bad of an athlete--I love to hike, bike, run, and kick some ass. However, that perfectionist bit of my inner dialogue starts telling me that I'm not cut out for it and that I should just quit because I know that I won't be able to perform at the level that I'm supposed to (whatever the hell that level is). This self-hatred is something that I feel extremely confused about--I don't know if it makes me attractive or more repugnant. I guess a lot of it has to stem from the fact that I'm used to seeing romantic leads with low self-esteem and a somewhat cynical worldview and somehow in the movies it works out into some elaborate Cinderella story, in which I finally open my eyes and run after the man that was chasing after me, after a buildup of sexual tension ever since his stormy entrance which was indulged in during a night of revelry, followed by awkward silence, then a melodramatic confrontation. Yep, I know what kind of a relationship I want--it comes from watching too many Sandra Bullock movies.

I don't know why I'm even publishing this, considering it's not really that much of an academic ranting than it is a personal bloc of bitch, but I guess I'm continuing with it because somehow it helps me organize my thoughts. Hopefully I can find that half-Jew, half-Irish raised Catholic anthropology doctorate who joined the police force somewhere... But I really doubt things turn out the way you envision them. Maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised. Maybe.