All my exes live in... well...

I have patented the art of poor taste in men. Seriously. I know every woman says this, rolling her eyes as she ticks off the number of lousy boyfriends she's had. But I believe anyone who knows me could attest to my extraordinary ability to date inappropriate men.

I think the biggest nightmare of my unromantic history was the astrophysicist I briefly dated. Now, when I say "briefly" I mean we went out twice, and neither time did he pay. Then, on the second night, when I was beginning to wonder if these had been dates or just "hanging out," he kissed me. It was a bit like being kissed by a woodpecker. He kept jamming his face up against mine, faster than I knew the human head could move. And when I tried to say something, he kept kissing me so hard and so fast that he actually began kissing my teeth. Only then did he stop, step back, and say "You know, you really need more work on this. Use less teeth." Yeah. But the worst part was that after all this, when I stopped answering his Instant Messages (because apparently calling a girl is so old-fashioned), he FREAKED OUT and starting writing me emails that were essentially Tolstoy novels, without the lovely prose and interesting characters and all that.

Today, however, I received a totally unsolicited email from an ex from about seven years ago. He wanted my insight into his recent breakup. Now, if I had been in contact with him at ANY point in the past several years, maybe I'd feel that this was relevant. But no. Which leads me to wonder: why do we continue to seek the approval of those with whom we've broken up in the past? I know this is a newly coined cliche, but isn't it called a break-up because its broken?

The Ex wanted to know why I thought his relationship had failed. Why, he wondered, didn't she love him? Why couldn't he commit? Why was he, at age 27, still feeling as though he had all the time in the world to date? And was it possible to find that person with whom he could be incandescently happy until the end of time?

To be honest, there was only one thing I could think: I feel strongly that men who use the word "incandescent" when referring to relationships should just quit while they're ahead.

Can you handle this?

To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure if I'm ready for this blog business. I tend to be a fairly "low-tech" person. You know, the kind of person who has never actually figured out how to use call-waiting on her cell phone, the one who is eternally surprised by the way her iPod works.

I vividly remember once, in high school, hitting some random assortment of keys on one of the school computers. Suddenly a bright red "warning" display was flashing on my screen, and within five seconds, every other computer screen featured the same message. Sure, many people have assured me that there is no way possible that it was my fault, but I still cringe when I remember the three days in which the entire school computer system refused to function. It probably didn't help that I started shrieking as soon as my screen began flashing, bringing attention to the fact that my computer was the first to display symptoms of a collosal meltdown.

Most of my friends swear up and down that they love my technical ineptitude. They profess their adoration amidst giggles at my inability to check my voicemail without a massive calamity. Yet even if they can forgive, and even enjoy, my lack of technological prowess, I still hope that one day I will wake up and suddenly possess that innate ability wielded by some to instantly comprehend the inner workings of anything with a plug.

Bear with me, fellow bloggers. This could be frightening!