posted by max on February 18, 2009 at 11:38:14 AM

Greetings Cupids,

So far these “Boredom Busters” haven’t followed a specific theme very well but today I’m going to change that. This time around I’m actually going to try and keep you entertained by delving into my “love life”, although it would be a stretch to refer to it as either “love” or a “life” if we’re being honest.

I’ve been dating recently. In an effort to expand my horizons I’ve decided to let the dark cloud of misery that follows me around rain down on as many other people as I can. While I am aware that by dating I am most likely a leaving a trail of emotional destruction in my wake, this is a chance I’m willing to take. Much as Chernobyl had a sarcophagus built around its reactor, I have built a wall around my heart which is now leaking emotional radiation causing psychological fallout and flipper babies.

An old friend of mine, let’s call him “davidc” was in town recently. After a full night of drinking we were on a brisk early-morning stroll, trusty six-pack in hand when he asked to borrow my phone. I, a trusting soul, obliged. I’m not sure how much time passed – I may have been throwing rocks at cars or sleeping on a sidewalk – but when I finally came to, my ears were assaulted by the sounds of my friend yelling into my phone.

This can’t be good I thought. I grabbed the phone from his ladylike mitts, quickly scanning my recent call history, only to be visually molested by a massive list spanning nearly a hundred calls made to every female name in my contact list.

There was the blind date I went on last week, the one that didn’t really work out. We were opposites, she makes six figures working in risk management for a major bank and I owe the IRS five figures. The date took place at the Tenement Museum in the East Village. Despite the fact that she was quite personable and nice, the date was one of the most depressing in my life. Whether that was due to my terrible hangover, the accompanying aroma, or hearing the history of disease transmitted through public housing, it just wasn’t as romantic as I’d hoped. We weren’t meant to be, but I haven’t found the time to remove her from my phone book yet.

Then there was the mysterious stranger. One morning I had woken up to a text message confirming a date for the following evening. From a girl I had never met before. Whose number had been saved in my phone. I racked my mind to try to recall what this mystery girl looked like or how I had met her – I think the scientific term for this scenario is “blackout.” I decided to be adventurous (read: desperate) and show up. I walked in and started chatting up a girl that looked vaguely familiar. What I failed to notice was the girl whom I was supposed to meet three chairs away staring at me in disgust. Woops.

There were calls to my mother, my sister, and the thirty-six year old who baked cookies and brought them to my apartment one night. I won’t even get into that.

There were of calls to ex-girlfriends of relationships past. One of whom, not coincidentally, was the only person in my contact list willing to answer their phone at 5am, which is probably how we ended up dating in the first place. We had met on YTMND, of all places. Once my friend managed to get my ex-girlfriend on the phone he seemed quite pleased with himself. Knowing how low her standards were, he promptly asked her to go out to dinner with him. Unluckily for him, she had already moved across the country to date her latest YTMND romance, syncan. I guess love was not in the stars for davidc that night.

I’ve been on damage control ever since that weekend. The plethora of text messages and phone calls made me realize two things: first, never lend your phone to a drunken Englishman, second, it’s about time for some phonebook spring-cleaning. Despite my past and present failures to show some humanity, I still enjoy the cathartic feeling of selfishly ending relationships, so for the time being I’m going to stick with it.

Any of you ladies want to go on a date?