So I met a guy at a party the other night and, not that I’m back in the dating
pool or anything yet, god forbid, but still I’m not dead. Anyway this guy
was cute and witty and interesting and just had sort of a general attractive
vibe to him, right? Had read the Sandman series, knew cool historical trivia, gave a fucking excellent neck massage if I do say so myself.Don’t know what it was, I just really was intrigued. So
we converse a bit.Turns out he’s in his early forties, lives in relative
poverty and admittedly has a depressive disorder. I didn’t ask if he was
Irish. If he’s Irish then that makes it official: I have a type: depressive
low income Irish American men in their early forties. I am predictable as
the tides. It’s fucking tragic. And also it’s a shame because I’m totally and unfairly ignoring the whole White Male Geek aged twenty five to thirty five crowd to whom I am apparently most desirable.