Oh bugger.

[Platypus]

I just thought 'I really ought to get a boyfriend'.

By all the laws of the universe, I've just ensured that that won't happen for at least six months.

[Gustaf]

Haha, don't be so pessimistic. Just don't try too hard, you know? It will work itself out.

[Supersonic]

Why, what happened? Pray, tell all.

[Platypus]

The rules of the universe are that if you want a relationship, you don't get one.

I was watching tv with a cat on my lap on a friday night. Not appropriate for a single 24 year old man. First, I thought, "I should go out", then I thought, "I don't want to go out. I just want a boyfriend."

And now I'm a cat person.

[Supersonic]

The rules of the universe are that if you want a relationship, you don't get one.

I was watching tv with a cat on my lap on a friday night. Not appropriate for a single 24 year old man. First, I thought, "I should go out", then I thought, "I don't want to go out. I just want a boyfriend."

And now I'm a cat person.

Oh. I see. :/

Well, err, at least you have the cat. Um, that probably didn't help..

Though, my mum says 'there's someone out there for everyone, it's just a case of finding them', so, I guess you can take heart in that little comment, lol.

[Torie]

Cats are not all that bad a substitute. Take it from a man who knows.

[Platypus]

It's not even my cat, I'm house-sitting for my aunty and uncle.

[Torie]

It's not even my cat, I'm house-sitting for my aunty and uncle.

How about getting a cute little dog, and perambulating with him in gay neighborhoods?  That should get some attention from potentially promising boy toys, and perhaps one thing will lead to another.  Again, I am speaking here from well, some experience.

[afleitch]

So no positive thinking then? About this time last year I was thinking the same thing and then I met someone. I'd had months of false starts and 'let's meet for coffees!' followed by 'no thanks' or 'I just want a f-ck' which was depressing. Then you start talking to someone because your train is cancelled due to a bomb scare and then...there you go. So wanting something doesn't mean you won't get it. Might give you more motivation to find someone. And you will

[Platypus]

Torie: I'm also house-sitting a fluffy white dog who is trying to lick my toes.

Andrew: I'm not too depressed about it, I'm really not all that hung up about love, singledom etc, but I am kind of aware of not having had the most sociable evening.

[Grumpier Than Uncle Joe]

So no positive thinking then? About this time last year I was thinking the same thing and then I met someone. I'd had months of false starts and 'let's meet for coffees!' followed by 'no thanks' or 'I just want a f-ck' which was depressing. Then you start talking to someone because your train is cancelled due to a bomb scare and then...there you go. So wanting something doesn't mean you won't get it. Might give you more motivation to find someone. And you will

So wait, in order to talk to your now fiance,  you called in a bomb scare and you want Hugh to do the same?  

[Torie]

Torie: I'm also house-sitting a fluffy white dog who is trying to lick my toes.

Andrew: I'm not too depressed about it, I'm really not all that hung up about love, singledom etc, but I am kind of aware of not having had the most sociable evening.

Yes, I know. It is nice to have your arm around someone sitting on the couch watching a good movie, while "distracting" each other from time to time, isn't it?

[afleitch]

Torie: I'm also house-sitting a fluffy white dog who is trying to lick my toes.

Andrew: I'm not too depressed about it, I'm really not all that hung up about love, singledom etc, but I am kind of aware of not having had the most sociable evening.

Company is important though. The best thing for me has always been nights in with an oven cooked meal and your feet on the sofa. 'Nothingness' really but nothing with someone and as Torie said the odd mutual distraction. Wild romantic gestures generally suck. Sex is what it is. I'm probably just saying this because it's Friday evening and I'm due to leave for home

[Keystone Phil]

Discussing this stuff here has always made so little sense to me but I can relate. Years ago, I had crushes on the hottest, most popular girls. It never turned into a relationship. I just stopped caring for a year or so and then boom: one of the girls I liked right before I stopped caring about getting a girlfriend started to like me. A lot. Our mutual friend made me aware (totally to my surprise) and set us up. We dated for a year and a half.

I haven't dated anyone since then. She was very hard to get over because I truly loved her. Ever since then, I've dwelled on getting a girlfriend and nothing has happened. Now that's partly because I'm very picky and shy (yeah, I am. Really.) but there have been minor developments over the years that just haven't materialized. Once again, I'm trying to not care so something will happen but, at the same time, people like us should realize that our way of thinking is a real hindrance. The truth is that thinking, "Oh, I'd really like a significant other right now..." doesn't actually stop us from getting someone. Sure, it seems to work out that way but even joking about it is another wasted minute when we should be more aggressive.

[HagridOfTheDeep]

My problem is, once the girl starts to show interest, I end up getting turned off. For whatever reason, it just ends up being a reality check that makes me uncomfortable.

One girl I was originally interested in fell head over heels--so much so that she took to twitter like a rabid high schooler and started tweeting about her "anonymous mystery man."

I'd tweet something about enjoying telescope nights with my younger sister (she was required to keep a star journal for an assignment), and this girl would immediately tweet out something like "I wish you were here with me to look at the stars." I have no idea how crap like this was supposed to make me feel, but it kept coming and coming, and she basically killed any shot she had.

Sorry, that became a tangent about myself. Anyhow, I guess my lesson is... don't second guess yourself, because then you become your own worst nightmare.

[opebo]

Cats are not all that bad a substitute. Take it from a man who knows.

You know? I'm calling the ASPCA.

[Peeperkorn]

Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels' hierarchies?
and even if one of them pressed me suddenly against his heart:
I would be consumed in that overwhelming existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we are still just able to endure,
and we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Every angel is terrifying.
And so I hold myself back and swallow the call-note of my dark sobbing.
Ah, whom can we ever turn to in our need?
Not angels, not humans, and already the knowing animals are aware
that we are not really at home in our interpreted world.
Perhaps there remains for us some tree on a hillside, which every day we can take into our vision;
there remains for us yesterday's street and the loyalty of a habit so much at ease
when it stayed with us that it moved in and never left.
Oh and night: there is night, when a wind full of infinite space gnaws at our faces.
Whom would it not remain for--that longed-after, mildly disillusioning presence,
which the solitary heart so painfully meets.
Is it any less difficult for lovers?
But they keep on using each other to hide their own fate.
Don't you know yet?
Fling the emptiness out of your arms into the spaces we breathe;
perhaps the birds will feel the expanded air with more passionate flying.
Yes--the springtimes needed you. Often a star was waiting for you to notice it.
A wave rolled toward you out of the distant past,
or as you walked under an open window, a violin yielded itself to your hearing.
All this was mission. But could you accomplish it?
Weren't you always distracted by expectation, as if every event announced a beloved?
(Where can you find a place to keep her, with all the huge strange thoughts inside you
going and coming and often staying all night.)
But when you feel longing, sing of women in love; for their famous passion is still not immortal.
Sing of women abandoned and desolate (you envy them, almost)
who could love so much more purely than those who were gratified.
Begin again and again the never-attainable praising; remember: the hero lives on;
even his downfall was merely a pretext for achieving his final birth.
But Nature, spent and exhausted, takes lovers back into herself,
as if there were not enough strength to create them a second time.
Have you imagined Gaspara Stampa intensely enough
so that any girl deserted by her beloved might be inspired by that fierce example of soaring,
objectless love and might say to herself, "Perhaps I can be like her?"
Shouldn't this most ancient of sufferings finally grow more fruitful for us?
Isn't it time that we lovingly freed ourselves from the beloved and,
quivering, endured: as the arrow endures the bowstring's tension,
so that gathered in the snap of release it can be more than itself.
For there is no place where we can remain.
Voices. Voices. Listen, my heart, as only saints have listened:
until the gigantic call lifted them off the ground;
yet they kept on, impossibly, kneeling and didn't notice at all: so complete was their listening.
Not that you could endure God's voice--far from it.
But listen to the voice of the wind and the ceaseless message that forms itself out of silence.
It is murmuring toward you now from those who died young.
Didn't their fate, whenever you stepped into a church in Naples or Rome,
quietly come to address you?
Or high up, some eulogy entrusted you with a mission,
as, last year, on the plaque in Santa Maria Formosa.
What they want of me is that I gently remove the appearance of injustice about their death--
which at times slightly hinders their souls from proceeding onward.
Of course, it is strange to inhabit the earth no longer,

to give up customs one barely had time to learn,
not to see roses and other promising Things in terms of a human future;
no longer to be what one was in infinitely anxious hands;
to leave even one's own first name behind,
forgetting it as easily as a child abandons a broken toy.
Strange to no longer desire one's desires.
Strange to see meanings that clung together once, floating away in every direction.
And being dead is hard work and full of retrieval before one can gradually feel a trace of eternity.
Though the living are wrong to believe in the too-sharp distinctions which
they themselves have created.
Angels (they say) don't know whether it is the living they are moving among, or the dead.
The eternal torrent whirls all ages along in it, through both realms forever,
and their voices are drowned out in its thunderous roar.
In the end, those who were carried off early no longer need us:
they are weaned from earth's sorrows and joys,
as gently as children outgrow the soft breasts of their mothers.
But we, who do need such great mysteries,
we for whom grief is so often the source of our spirit's growth--:
could we exist without them?
Is the legend meaningless that tells how, in the lament for Linus,
the daring first notes of song pierced through the barren numbness;
and then in the startled space which a youth as lovely as a god has suddenly left forever,
the Void felt for the first time that harmony which now enraptures and comforts and helps us

[opebo]

tl dr

[Peeperkorn]

tl dr

You should, aesthetic bear.

[Torie]

tl dr

You should, aesthetic bear.

Boor?

[🐒Gods of Prosperity🔱🐲💸]

Is that an original composition Peeperkorn?

[Peeperkorn]

Is that an original composition Peeperkorn?

It's Rilke.