Greetings from the mountain top…
There is a basic rule of life that applies to all things including meaning, purpose, sex, lost car keys, or love–the harder you search for it the less likely you are to find it.
So what is a non-guru to do?
Willie Horton had it right decades ago. When asked why he robbed banks he responded, quite guru-like: “Because that’s where the money is.”
The Guru teaches online, but he lives in person. That’s where you should look for love. Much as Westerners grasp pills for instant cures (you, too, can have a four-hour erection…what non-masochistic woman in her right mind wants a four hour banging?) we grasp for instant love by searching online. How simple it is…write an ad for what you seek, share an email or 20, and voila–LOVE. Wake up, ducky, it aint’ that simple and love sure as hell isn’t lurking online.
The list of craig, the com of match, the harmony of e, are–for the most part–filled with those who fear rejection, have been bitten by life right in the old tushy, are bitter (often righteously so), and who would much rather (deep in their heart) watch reality TV while drinking mountain goat tea (or whatever adult beverage you prefer) than get out in the cold, dark, scary world and risk being bruised emotionally.
To find love you need to go where the money is. Reality. Is it easy? Hell-freaking-no. It’s hard. But it hurts far less, truth be told, than being judged online by someone you’ve never met, being rejected because you aren’t photogenic, or having some dude send you photos of his junk (it didn’t work for Brett Farve, fellas, and he’s got gazillons of dollars and NFL cred–how the fuck do you think it’s gonna work for you unless you’re John Holmes and even he never found love).
Take a chance and say ‘hello’ sometime to a gal or girl. Go old school and walk up to them…anywhere. Starbucks, the parking lot, the check out line, the adult toy store. Listen to the guru, children. The 20-something, wanna-be, hippie chicks from Boulder don’t swarm The Guru because he rocks an amazing body…this saggy bottomed, wrinkly faced, shriveled pod old man gets the chicks because he TALKS to them. Risk being rejected. Risk being disappointed. But risk.
It’s just life, skippy. You ain’t getting off of the ride alive so why not take a risk? Why? I’ll tell you why. You’re afraid you might just find something real and then you’d no longer have an excuse for being where you are–alone.
Peace out ya non-risk taking freaks