On Drought and the Dating Pool at Harvard

I remember the good old days as a freshman. I would get so excited for my routine daily-to-semi-daily advanced search for "men" interested in "men" on the Facebook. Whenever someone new came out, it was like a victory for the team. The pink team.

In the beginning there were lots of victories for the pink team. Often they were small victories or obvious victories (some battles were over before they had begun), but they were victories nonetheless. And each and every one of them gave me joy.

Eventually I realized that this behavior had crossed the line from endearing, earnest desire, to pathetic desperation. So I stopped. And then came Sergio, so I didn't relapse. Otherwise, I would probably have relapsed. But I didn't.

And then we broke up. And here I am, back to the Facebook. Except now, when I do the Search, it no longer brings me joy. I see many men, but no prospects. The pool has run dry, and with it, my heart (ok, now that's a little over the top even for my taste, and most of those who know me know that I am fundamentally tasteless).

I can't date people who are on the boards of the organizations I do. I can't date freshmen. I can't date the people who have dated my close friends. I can't date the people who are in relationships. I can't date the people who wouldn't want to date me. And what's left? Zero. Nada. Nilch. Nothing. noting. doting. dating. mating. eating...lots of carbs.