The Adventures of the Blind/Low Vision/Visually Impaired (BLOVI) Girl-Volume 84: Why I Do Not Date (or at least the why I tell myself)
I like to tell people that I have taken myself out of the dating scene. Mostly because I have not been on an actual date since September 2012. This is partly true. But it is also true that frankly, in Columbia, South Carolina, there is really nothing out there. Or nothing that looks good to me. The lack of interesting potential dating partners is the focus of this blog. But first………….
My WTF of the week is the infestation of the flies--part three. Yes, for the third year in a row I have a fly problem. They are back and they are bigger than ever. There is an unusual and unfortunate story as to how the flies got into my house. And it is not pretty. My daughter is in her playroom trying to get out some art supplies when I hear a cry then horrible screaming—flies, flies. Here is what I see--large black things all over the floor, some moving, some not. She keeps horror movie yelling, “Flies, flies, get them.” So I move fast and grab the vacuum and begin sucking up the black insects I see which are partially on the floor and partially in a—wait, is that an Easter basket. It is the missing Easter basket from like 7 weeks ago. When I look in it I see lots of huge black things. They cannot be flies. They are bees or small birds. But somehow they are flies. Here is what happened, or at least my theory. The missing basket which had opened up plastic eggs and candies got trapped under something else allowing the flies to develop and feed off the sugar, making them the largest flies I have ever seen. Some of them died of gluttony and maybe lack of oxygen, but the strong survived. And they were monstrous. So I tossed the whole basket into the trash outside and continued sucking up flies. But, alas, some flew off, as flies implies. A friend arrived to bring over miniature knifes and swords for the diorama project (see next story) and I was still sucking up the dead and dying flies. She made a gagging noise at the sight. This was one of those moments I was glad that I don’t see so well. I wrote about that in my memoir. The fact that visual impairment makes gross things, like the state fair and operation shows, less gross. Now the loose super flies (not Superfly in a 70's way) are roaming freely about the house and I am guessing they are breeding. They are difficult to kill and I can see them well. It took me like 7 swats to bring one down. Another actually played dead and then arose to fly again. Vampire flies, and cunning too. There seems to be nothing I can do to avoid the yearly infestation of the flies. They very much like our house. Right now as I write I can hear one of them buzzing loudly and I need to kill it.
This week I can’t get enough of the fact that yes, oh yes; we finished the dreaded diorama project and turned it in. And we survived. But the last days of the project were tense. First, the Little Bear figure was late arriving. I had shelled out the extra 4 bucks to get it here between the dates of May 10 and 11. And yet, on May 11 he was not here. So I started tracking him. That day, when he was supposed to be at my house and being glued into the diorama, he was in transit heading out of Missouri. And this was worrisome. On Monday morning he was in Columbia being sorted. So I knew or hoped he would get here just in time to be placed in the diorama the night before the due date. I already concocted a backup plan of going on a hunt for a Native American figurine. When I got home Monday the mail had come and I tensely reached in to the mailbox, holding my breath. Yes, the damn little figurine was that important. There was a bigger package. That was my raw green organics detox products so I was momentarily distracted by my joy in being able to start my detox. But I saw no other package. CRAP. As I flipped through the rest of the mail there was a little bubble envelope. I knew it was our Little Bear and I ripped it open immediately and felt relief. But then came the task of getting him in the diorama. The day before my daughter and I had a meeting of the minds and decided there could possibly be other objects in the boy's pocket where Little Bear was brought to school. At first she said the book says there is nothing in the pocket, but the diorama needed to be jazzed up. So we glued coins and wrappers to the bottom because she said boys have change and gun wrappers in their pockets. And then she decided there should be a love note in there. Yes, still locking her up at 12. So the last step was Little Bear and his sword thing he would be using to cut his way out of the jean pocket. The day before my gagging at the flies’ friend brought over an assortment of play swords and knives (she has boys) and Sadie chose one. And she gave us the idea to make Little Bear a marionette so he is the moving part. So we got the Popsicle stick and the string so he moves up and down to cut at the jeans. Popsicle stick, poke hole, string, easy peasy. Making it look like he was not hanging from a noose, not as easy. I gathered the string into a lovely belt and that worked. Last step, placing sword in hand. First I tried to tie the string around it, Impossible-could not see enough to do this. Then I tried to tape the sword in place. No go, it kept falling out. Then I tried regular Elmer’s glue. Also not working. I am gluing a plastic tiny sword to a tiny plastic figurine, how hard can this be. Really hard. An hour later I remember I have Gorilla Glue. I cannot read the label but know this stuff can hold anything. So I proceed to use the gorilla glue and get it on my hands which I think (looking back on the superglue peeling the stuff off your burning fingers days) is not a good thing. I can’t read the bottle but assume it says something like “Do not let glue come in contact with skin. If this occurs proceed directly to an emergency room where a plasma cutter may be needed in order to pry any stuck together body parts loose.” So I wash it off quickly and check the sword situation and it is still loose. There is no way this is happening. But then I held it there and blew on it and waited for some binding process to occur and after a few minutes the sword is no longer moving. And with a tug of the stick at the top of the diorama, Little Bear is bobbing up and down, sword erect, cutting the jeans. This is when I realize I forgot to make the cut in the jeans, which is also not easy but somehow gets accomplished. Victory is mine. Why does every project have to be so hard? Oh, I forgot, it’s because I can’t really see small things. Another chapter in my book—my dislike of all things small like head lice, Playschool toys parts and of course, flies.
What I have written about thus far is much more exciting than the dating scene (for the over 35 crowd) in our famously hot city. A city which is less than tepid in the available not ugly, not unstable, not a cheater or a douchebag categories. My friend who does not go out much recently went on our ladies night out venture. She looked around and looked around and finally said, “If this is what is out there, I have not been missing much.” My friends and I often joke that if you throw a rock in Columbia you have no chance of hitting a decent looking guy. Take that rock to Charlotte and you can hit 10 good looking men in almost any bar or restaurant. There is also an adjustment in the hotness rating scale (1 to 10) for guys in Columbia. For example, a guy that is an 8 in comparison to other guys in Columbia would probably only be a 5 in Charlotte or any other larger city. And I rarely go out and see an 8 or above Columbia rating. And if I do, the guy is like 25 and I could be his mother. So I do not date. Not because it would not be nice to go on a date, but because there are, or at least there seems to be, no date-able men. And also, as I have said time and time again, I am not very approachable. What I really think is that I am busy, selective and not at all willing to settle. I don’t have much time to go out and I am not crazy enough to Internet date again. The dating chapter of my book would scare any woman away from that. So, I am going to meet someone the old fashioned way, through a mutual friend. And for a long time that just did not happen because none of my friends knew any decent available guys. But one day a friend did. And that may be a story for another blog. We shall see.
Keep Moving Forward,
Beth (BLOVI) Medlock
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