Since the break-up a few weeks ago, the cruising habit has kicked in again. I find myself sitting up late at night, chatting up Internet users, and going out to the bars with Dave and other friends. I've met a few guys, but nothing more friendly dates, I think. It's fun to be dating again. I've been pretty good so far, too. Nothing but totally polite and respectable. So that's fun for a change.

Maintaining youthful optimism has been a conscious effort of late. It came so easily before, but I'm starting to notice my straining grip. The tendons in my forearm tense and my veins are bulging (Mmm...). Every so often, I see that shadow creeping along the visible edges of my thoughts. It whispers disheartening things about how this is As Good As It Gets, and to Give Up because no matter how hard you look You'll Never Find It.

Cynicism. That's the word I'm looking for. I'm holding cynicism at bay with a burning torch, and it slithers along the outside of this lighted perimeter like those creatures in Pitch Black. Which is a great movie, by the way. I'm sure I've mentioned this in the past, but I love Vin Diesel. Vin, baby, if you're reading this, I'm a single guy, fairly intelligent, handsome, have seen all your movies (including Iron Giant) and give great... massages. Wanna date?

Yeah. This cruising thing is getting a little out of hand. Luckily, I have my Ben & Jerry's in the freezer to take my mind of such disgraceful flimflam.

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