:: book bound

"I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvellous to us." (p. 13)

Being "mysterious" has always been my shtick. I never really let the cat out of the bag or necessarily share too many details - with people who are not my closer friends, of course.

It's interesting to me, then, to observe people who do not maintain that air of mystery. For example, my manager loves to share a plethora of stories with us, as well as rants and raves. There is nothing wrong with this, of course, but when her and I were busy packing up boxes today, she began telling me her epic wedding party story, and in the back of my mind, I couldn't stop thinking about how I probably would never reciprocate.

But perhaps that's just because I've previously gotten too close with managers, and as such, effectively ruined the Boss/Employee relationship. That's never a good place to be.

Regardless, staying on mysteries and secrets, I have a Lavalife account. Shh, it's the most dreadful and embarassing of secrets. Only, it's really not, because I don't use it. Well, not traditionally.

It's an entertainment device - I log in once a day, check out the ridiculous chat messages and emails left for me, delete any smiles and move on. The sheer volume of pathetic pick up lines or attempts to get your attention by playing off your already quasi-joke profile (though, they don't get that) are too hilarious to pass up.

I've seen it all. I've had the sickeningly sweet, right down to the "doctor" who rudely told me my standards were too high and I would never find a man -- this was the first thing he ever said to me. He was basing this opinion off a profile where I state that I love the arts, my friends and family, and that describing oneself in a short number of words is impossible. Yep. He must have been reading between the lines to pick up on my ridiculously high standards. Smart man. (cough)

The best encounter occurred yesterday, however. Some random guy sent me a chat message, complimenting me on something or other, which I thanked him for. I rarely stick around to actually chat with people and so, logged out before he could reply. When I returned the next day, he had responded, making a comment about how I sounded older than my years. I simply replied by saying that that wasn't the first time I had heard that and again, promptly logged out.

I returned last night to:

I think you need braces.
I still find you charming though.

... This, coming from a guy whose profile is nothing but a soapbox rant about how shallow the female population is on Lavalife. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, I called him out on it. There was the chance of a good internet scrap, and I wasn't going to pass it up.

He pegged it on me by blaming me for focusing on the braces comment, rather than the compliment he had given me prior to that. Oh, right, pardon my error. You like my face, but you also think I need to fix my smile. That makes perfect, mathematical sense.

Again, I called him out on it. His reponse?

I'm growing rather bored of this.

I've never (internally) laughed so hard. In fact, I think my brain exploded a little at the sheer audacity of it all and complete brain dysfunction. If Lord Henry were my friend, we'd share a good chuckle over it --

"There are only two kinds of people who are really fascinating - people who know absolutely everything and people who know absolutely nothing." (p.123)