When no one wants you

From The Journal of Doubt, 10 October (no permalinks, sorry), on the results, or lack thereof, of placing a personal ad on the Net:

Speaking as someone who has never had any charm to lose ("hideous" and "unattractive" are somewhat more debatable), I can say only that women as a group are indeed a complete mystery. But I believe, for some reason unknown, and in spite of an almost total lack of supporting evidence, that each and every one of them has a clearly-defined path to her heart, and when this road is not taken, it's more often than not because (1) we simply don't know where the hell to find it, or (2) it's not in her best interest to point it out. Sometimes both.

Of course, I can afford to act detached about this, since I in no way resemble anyone's ideal and therefore am not likely to disappoint on this basis.

The Doubter continues:

I shudder to think how long this man's dry spell has been, and I shudder even more when I contemplate my own, which likely dwarfs it.

But admitting to desperation is absolutely the most useless thing to do under the circumstances. It does nothing to enhance the possibilities; in fact, since women can detect desperation at the parts-per-billion level, it's likely to make matters worse — assuming there exists a condition that can be described as "worse".

So what's the solution? If I knew, do you think I'd be home blogging on a Saturday night? I generally don't recommend giving up except in the direst of circumstances, but the only alternative is to fall back on cliché: "You don't find love. Love finds you."

The irritating thing about cliché, of course, is that too often it contains entirely too much truth.