Leaving the Apartment

If you're going to launch into a project like Prong Two, you have to have more than one search strategy in order to find The Dude.

Okay. Well. You don't have to have more than one search strategy. You could sit at home night after night sifting through thousands of OKCupid profiles until your eyes start bleeding and you've lost all sense of reality and your social skills wane into oblivion until one day, instead of laughing when somebody says something funny, you croak out "LOL" like some kind of horrible android and reach out your withered index finger to click the phantom 'like' button that's floating in front of your bloodshot eyes.

But then, what if The Dude is the kind of person who would rather eat boiled tripe every night for a year than do online dating? I wouldn't blame him - I agree that there's a distinctive and unpleasant tripe-like flavour to online dating, though I sally forth anyhow. Oh-HO, I am the picture of bravery. But if The Dude is not quite as brave... NO JUDGMENT. And also, I will not find him on OKCupid.

So then: more than one strategy. That's what we're discussing here. Stop trying to distract me with your extraneous discussions about tripe, Internet. Jeez.

I have found that every single other strategy for meeting The Dude requires me LEAVING MY APARTMENT.

I can hear your gasps of dismay now: "Why would you ever want to leave your apartment, ProngTwo?" you cry. "It's stocked with snacks and WiFi and shelves full of good books and is not populated by lunatics and miscreants (except for the cat). Only a FOOL would venture out of a haven like yours." And you know, you people wouldn't be wrong. Except that The Dude is for sure, absolutely definitely NOT in my apartment. Yes, I have checked under the bed.

Generally speaking, I hate leaving my apartment. This is not to say that I'm a shy person: I am not shy. (You people who know me in Real Life can quit your goddamn sniggering right now.) I'm more... uh... I think the word we're all casting about for is "misanthropic". Which, I know: terrible, straight to hell, blah-blah-blah. But I'm working on being a lot less misanthropic in the interest of Prong Two. Recently, I have even been known to do shocking things like Attend Parties and Mingle with Strangers.

I know. I'm such an inspiration. You're welcome.

This is not to say I'll be planning an outing to Canada's Wonderland to mix with the unwashed masses anytime soon. Or visiting that horrible wasteland of weltschmerz known as Marineland (you may be surprised to find out that not everyone loves Marineland, you jingle-writing cretins). I have my limits.