Ryan and the Technicolor Wardrobe
Short Stories and Essays

I’m not sure how long this has gone on for, but every week when I talk to my Dad on the phone, he asks me if I have any good news. So I tell him “I still have a job, that’s good news, right?”, but I know this is not the good news that he’s fishing for. My Dad wants to hear that I’ve found the girl of my dreams, his future daughter in-law, and that she can’t wait to start to pumping out the grandchildren. Like I said, this has been a recent addition to our phone conversations and it doesn’t look like it’ll be going away anytime in the near future.

When these conversations began, I think I was amused by the fact that my Dad was talking to me about girls. I embraced being a bachelor, using the cliche “I’m happy being single” whenever anyone brought up dating and quickly dismissed the “good news” question whenever it came up. Over time, that happiness of being single started to dissipate, and the itch to find a significant other started to show up to my chagrin. It’s not that I don’t want to be in a relationship, it’s that I usually get stuck in the “friend zone”, and it’s not because I can’t “initiate”, I’m just not the type for the girls I chase.

So after doing some chasing and being shot down, I turned my attention to a certain popular dating service. I found a deal for a 3 month trial and decided to give it a shot, since 3 months of this service would only cost me the equivalent of a video game purchase. I often found myself frustrated. I didn’t have a problem with the service, I ended up talking to people who only checked the site once in a blue moon. I can be a bit of an anxious person and I like to be in a rhythm, so perhaps this dating service doesn’t really fit with my personality. I didn’t expect to hear responses every day but I think waiting over a week for people to answer some basic questions is also too long.

Then I found Whitney. Whitney’s very cute, very smart, and has a sense of humor. ┬áThe fact that she’s in the midwest wasn’t going to deter me from getting to know her, especially since I grew up there and would consider moving back there at some point. We found a nice rhythm and I didn’t find any red flags with her. (Maybe the distance was a red flag.) She didn’t seem crazy, she was just sick of the bar scene and wanted to find someone serious, and didn’t care if that guy was across the country. We only knew each other by first name and at a certain point, I decided to give her my personal e-mail address, which coincidentally has my full name in it, hoping to move things along to where we would actually talk on the phone or fly out to see each other, (or however this works), but I guess this is where I messed things up.

So, I have a blog (this one), so you should probably know that this is not a personal blog where I talk about my issues or my exes or anything like that. I write short stories about my life, like I’m doing right now. At the time of my corresponsdance, my most recent post was about how my friend thinks that this little kid at church looks a lot like me and that they could be my kid. (Technicolor Salvation). It’s become an inside joke between a bunch of my friends, so I decided to write about it in a creative way. I wrote about how I think this kid is my kid from the future and then wondered why my wife from the future would send her back to me. It’s definitely an comical piece that really breaks down the perils of time travel, but I could understand why this piece in particular might scare off someone who is interested in dating me and doesn’t know me very well.

I know Whitney visited my site because I have Google Analytics and no one from her suburb ever visits my site. You could call this stalking, but she stalked me first by looking me up and visiting my site, so I think we’re even. She never wrote to me again, so I can’t be sure this is the reason that we stopped talking, but since I’m a writer and she’s left the ending to our online relationship open ended, I’d like to believe that she was scared off about the story of the future child. And do you know what? If she can’t accept that kid as our future child, maybe I don’t want to be with her anyways.

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