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Well, here I am again.   Did ya’ miss me?  Yup.  Single. Not-so-suddenly.  We were on a long, slow death march for the last couple of months.  Lovely woman.  Love her very much.  Totally incompatible for the long haul.  My regular pronouncements during each of three major relationships over the past three years was: “This is it.  No, really.”  Which then, after the course of months and as the honeymoon dissolves into reality becomes “Not really, just kidding.”

So, what’s a girl to do?  Maybe cry a little.  Or not.  Make jokes about my inability to couple appropriately.  Tell the dramatic, or in this case, anti-climatic story to my friends.  Find time, sans girlfriend, to lie around all day Saturday doing absolutely nothing but catch up on my DVR stuff, read a book, and take a nap.  Oh, and get reacquainted with faithful Japanese appliance.

Then, as ritual, go to my computer and test my theory.  I pull up both Yahoo! Personals and Match.com.  Look through the photos to figure out just how depressed I should be.

And, what do I discover?

It’s the same pool of women who have been on the site since 2006 when I hit them the first time.  Really.  The same women.  Updated photos.  Punched up profiles.  They have become dating professionals.

I thought perhaps they’d been there all the time when I realized that couldn’t possibly be true.  They just all break up on the same cycle as me. It’s like the equivalent of women in the same office getting on the same menstrual cycle – only in this case, it’s synchronized Internet dating.  My pool is more than finite, it’s my purgatory.

I’m doomed to living in the lesbian dating equivalent of Groundhog Day.

You are a funny little impish cherub, Eros, I must say.  Tone it down a little, will ya’?

Love Maybe Some Other Day,

Al the Letter Writing Lesbian