The interview

Last Sunday, we, my partner and I, had an interview for co-op housing. A cheap apartment where you help with the maintenance. How cheap? About half the price one would expect to pay based on location and size.

This interview was extremely important for my partner. She had moved so often in her life, she really wanted something stable. Something affordable, so that she could start accumulating savings. And I wanted this for her.

The interview did not go well. It was what one would call a disaster. My answers made little sense, and even when they did, they weren't the answers they wanted to hear. I suspect, as well, that they were insulted by my poor French. A language I have difficulty with normally, but when anxious my vocabulary becomes elementary school level. Regardless, overall, they just didn't like me.

The loss of the apartment was, for my partner, the last straw. Watching everything she wants in life, stability, some insurance for the future, comfort, watching all of it disappear because I can't, because of my anxiety, because I can't engage in regular activities that everyone else can, it was too much. There was a few arguments before we broke up, but I think she knew it was over before the first one even began.

And now I'm back at my father's. He's still in the States; I suspect he'll be surprised to find me here.

That was Monday, from the moment they called to set up the Interview until I went to bed that night. It was Tuesday. It was Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. And it was Sunday, right up until I sat in their kitchen, answering their questions.

Inactivity

There is a popular dating website which, under the username Captain Hammer, with the tag line: "Please give me a sec to catch my breath", the following profile could be found in the Intimate Encounters section.

So, yeah, I've been watching Dr. Horrible quite a bit recently. That's where the Captain Hammer reference comes from. As well as the Opening Line. I was thinking of quoting his line, "the hammer is my penis" for an Opening Line, but I realized that as scary as the name Captain Hammer is for anyone who hasn't seen the movie, an Opening Line like that would be even scarier.

Not scary in the sense of, "Oh my lord, run, run for your lives," but rather scary in the sense of, "loser, next." And, let's face it, I'd rather people realize I'm a loser after they've met me, not before, because, well, realizing it before probably means they'll never meet me to begin with...

Right. Intimate Encounters. Forgot why I was here for a second. I am not the most serious of guys, if I were I'm sure I'd have one of those textbook intros, the kind designed to, well, do whatever it is those textbook intros are meant to do. This one on the other hand probably isn't doing much. I'm sure in a week or two I'll change it.

The gallery pictures, I felt awkward putting them up. I think they look good from the neck down, but from the neck up, I don't know. In one of them I'm spitting the water from the pool out of my mouth, and in the other, it looks like my head has been photoshopped on. Neither of them really work. Please pretend that they are topless photos. Not, of course, topless in the sense of shirt, which they already are, but rather in the sense of head. Like the top part of me, my head, was missing.

I'm here, of course, for an intimate encounter. What's intimate? Could mean sex. Could mean cuddling. Could mean everything but sex. It means something physical though. And probably also something date-like. Like some supper and wine before. I have trouble picturing anything intimate happening if all I know is your lavalife nickname. Also, it sounds like a frightening proposition to be alone with a guy you've never met. I imagine people would want to vet someone first in a public location.

* * *

It could have been found, of course, had you searched yesterday or earlier. The company deleted the profile today due to over six months of inactivity.