Carpal Tunnel Syndrome: (n) pathology/On Sunday, I thought "Hmm...man, I must have slept on my hand wrong or something because it really hurts." Yesterday morning, my poor little right hand decided to kick that pain up a notch to get my attention. I thought "I wonder if this is what carpal tunnel feels like." The above definition has confirmed my theory. Although, fear not, it is not associated with rheumatoid arthritis or anything to do with pregnancy.This, my friends, is what happens when texting gets out of control.
Between Mr. Italian, Mr. Nick@Nite, Mr. Morals and Mr. Military, it's a wonder I've found time to do anything other than text. And by "anything other" I mean menial things like brushing my teeth. From about 10:00 am to 11:00 pm every day for weeks, it has been non-stop and I have come to loathe the sweet, melodic chime on my phone that indicates a new message has arrived. I've even started to wonder if it is, in fact, some strange karmic payback for my previous insistence on jumping from texts to real-life. Although, the jumping to real life isn't happening.
I wonder if I could possibly be the first victim of a new disorder. I'm thinking I've developed "Chronic Dating Fatigue." Symptoms of Chronic Dating Fatigue, or CDF, include, but are not limited to, carpal tunnel pain and hyperventilation upon the receipt of text messages, lack of the ability and/or care to respond to messages like "Wat up, baby?" and "How are you today?" (or in my more specific case, "I want you to buy me a tattoo"), a feeling of angst towards several members of the opposite sex for apparently no reason other than their gender, purchasing a closet full of endless date-worthy clothing options with no actual dates, and a general sense of bitterness, with having had the thought of throwing in the towel or "How bad would life really be if I never met anyone?" at least more than once a week. Patients can suffer from symptoms anywhere from one week to the rest of their entire lives, in which case they will die a long, slow, painful, lonely death. The cure for CDF? We all know what it is. It's the whole point and hopefully last, joyful blog entry ever to this "Diary of a Mad, Single Woman."
I think the discovery of my new ailment may actually have inspired some pretty radical behavior on my part. I've almost decided that I'm wiping the slate clean. After months of paying for
Here is my possible new mandate: If I met you via any online dating service and we are currently communicating as of today, I am done playing the game with you. Ask me out or move on.
Since none of them read this blog (to my knowledge!), this is kind of futile. But, it gives me a visual of my new mantra. And it's gotten the thought train rolling that maybe I need to spend more time focused on meeting people in the real world. It can't possibly be worse than this. A friend of mine forwarded me an article about a unique new dating service that combines the ease of online dating (ease, my foot) and the face-to-face aspect of meeting in the real world. You establish a profile on their website that is viewable by anyone in the whole world. Then the company sends you these nifty little business cards, surely black with bright scandalous pink embellishments, with a URL to your profile and some flirty message like "I'm totally cooler than your date" or "I'm flirting with you." You leave the card with the man or woman in your scope wherever you happen to be in the real world, eliminating that awkward walk-up introduction or even more dreaded pick-up line. Apparently, it's catching on like wildfire. I'll do some research and keep you posted...
Oh, and online dating guys, if you are reading this, thank you for making my hand and wrist burn for three days, guys. That's one way of keeping you on my mind!