The Romancing of Inbal - Part The Third

This article is a continuation of The Romancing of Inbal - Part The First and The Romancing of Inbal - Part The Second in which I pursue the affections of the aforementioned Inbal.

Inbal is even more beautiful than this girl!

I should explain that the dilemma inherent in attempting to woo Inbal is, unfortunately, that (in communicating through the Jewish singles website) I am limited to a maximum of 400 characters per message that I send her. A challenge.

Atop this, other dilemmas also serve to complicate the matter. For instance, the fact that I’m a professional moron tends to be very unhelpful. If I could change anything about myself, it would be myself.

Also, yet another dilemma to be overcome is that 4 out of 5 Inbals agree that I’m an idiot. And I can’t argue with statistics. Especially statistics and research like that, conducted and gathered under laboratory conditions with such a diverse sampling of prospective Inbals, representing such a wide spectrum of Inbalic attitudes.

From now on, I should probably begin arranging surveys and focus groups of Inbals, to get some feel for what Inbals want and how best to approach them. I could just hang out behind that one-way glass, take notes, and sigh.

Inbal: A man should be very sensitive.

Inbal: I agree. He should also treat a woman like she’s the only woman in the world.

Inbal: And he should buy her flowers to commemorate every potential variation of anniversary. And then flowers for every anniversary of his purchasing flowers for her. The purchasing of flowers can be arranged in a simple mathematical formula structured around X to the Nth power.

[The various Inbals begin to formulate theories on the metaphysics of flower purchase and scribble certain mathematical notions regarding such purchasing upon sheets of scrap paper.]

It all makes me realizes how truly little I know; and how truly insignificant a place I hold in this universe.

So what the heck do I know about successful relationships? If I knew anything about women, I probably wouldn’t have had to kill so many such a hard time relating to them.

Perhaps, under different circumstances, I could have been her gay best friend (and by “gay” I mean “her pleasantly homosexual friend”). Unfortunately, these are not the circumstances.

Which is actually unfortunate from a purely statistical standpoint, considering that (historically) homosexual men have shown more interest in me than either heterosexual or homosexual women. In fact, homosexual men are the only people who have ever shown interest in me and interest in flirting with me. In truth, I’d have far better chances with men.

I had this haircut once that was just going on forever and I was wondering why. I don’t get haircuts very often, but even I realized that something was up. I could certainly have cut my hair with one of those vacuum cleaner hair-cutting devices they used to promote on television in all of this time, and saved money too, I reasoned to myself in the interim.

And the “haircut guy” was just going on and on, talking and cutting my hair, and I was wondering what was up. First he went on about a concert of soft rock the band Chicago was putting on in the area. Then he asks me “do you know what a butterfly kiss is?” and I was a bit too terrified to answer. Apparently, it’s a pose children take up in children’s pageants, to look cute for the judges. At least I think it is. I was really preoccupied with being confused.

All this time, my hair was getting progressively shorter and shorter. And then, there was that brilliant moment of confirmation. That moment writers and playwrights dream of being able to get across in their own scenes. That moment that is at once subtle yet uncompromisingly obvious.

haircutter: My. You have such beautiful, long eyelashes... your girlfriend must love them...

[And then, an expectant pause.]

me:... yes... she does.

And with that the haircut immediately ended and I was on my way. I mean, after an eternity, the blow-dryer came out and that was that. Upon that period of finality I had uttered, I was literally being shooed out the door. On the one hand, I was slightly flattered at all that attention. On the other hand, I felt a degree of sympathy for that haircut guy. He really had his heart set on me. And he was pretty good looking. I seriously believe that relationship could have succeeded if it hadn’t been for that ever so slight setback that I’m very not gay.

And that I felt something at the time. A hesitation.

Somehow, I knew I was waiting for Inbal.

To Be Continued...

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