The Disappearance

I’d like to discuss a terrible, apocalyptic epidemic that is sweeping the dating scene. No, no, not Syphighonnochlamydia. Dirty, dirty! I’m talking about Disappearing.

We’ve all been there: you’re talking to someone you like. Maybe you’ve gone out with them. Perhaps you’ve put the naughty on them. So you call one day and leave a message on their voicemail. You have every right to call this individual because at some point in time, they have displayed obvious interest in you whether by chatting you up on the phone or bending your legs back over your head. Whatever.

You’d think they would return your call, right? You’d think that they would recognize the fact that you are a human being with a soul whose existence deserves to be acknowledged, right? So here begins the problem. They don’t call back. Ever. You might hear from them in an indirect way, like through a mutual friend, or you might even be so lucky as to be carbon copied on an e-mail from them. But they never call.

Now I know we’ve also all been on the other side of this where the person we’ve been halfway seeing leaves us a message that we never return. But those people are like, hideous atrocities of nature! You know? They need extensive dental work and say weird shit like, “I love how natural we are together. Do you believe in destiny?” on the first date. They’re like carnies! So you blow them off until they stop calling because they make you feel car sick! Perfectly reasonable, right?

So here is my dilemma. Am I a carnie? Do I look like a cat rapist? Do I need to be taken out back and euthanized for my own good? Because I know that I’ve never said anything even remotely as Velveeta-on-ball-sac-cheesy as some of the canned lines that I’ve gotten from the guys that I’ve blown off. So how can we, arguably the hottest, most fabulous, educated, interesting, funny, intelligent people in the world, possibly be the victims of The Disappearance?

We are too gorgeous to be ditched so unceremoniously. We at least deserve a fucking phone call. A little, “Hi there. Yeah, I was just calling to tell you that I am no longer able to stick it in (and or to) you. I have realized that you are a golden shining ray of divinity and that I am a huge sick piece of shit. I am nothing, and you are the most perfect being that has ever been or ever will be. I have decided to erect a shrine to you in my basement where I will commence furiously masturbating to photographs of you rather than keeping you from dating more worthy partners. I will only ever truly love you, but am completely unworthy of your attention. Bye.” Now wouldn’t that be nice?

I honestly have no explanation for Disappearing. I suppose it’s a one man’s carnie is another man’s hottie thing. But damn them for denying us hottie status! It’s total horseshit! But at least we know that we are, in fact, unstoppable sex beasts. Screw those avoidy a holes! Just remember babies. Mama here loves you and thinks you’re delicious. It’s those chicken shit tools that are blind and crazy.