The other day I filled out an online dating questionnaire to see who's my dead soulmate. As I answered all the questions as seriously as I was able, and naturally was expecting someone who at least dabbled in the arts, who I ended up with surprised me. I'm not sure if I should consider the results quirky and cool, or if I should be very concerned for my own mental well-being. My three potential mystery dates? Edgar Allen Poe, Vincent Van Gogh, and the enigmatic Leonardo Da Vinci. Now, don't get me wrong, I consider these all to be great men in the arts and sciences, and would love to have had the chance to meet any of them in their lifetimes, but let's be honest here if I may. All three of them were loonies, plain and simple.
Bachelor #1: an alcoholic, bi-polar, clinically depressed writer consumed with death in general and who had an obsessively morbid fascination for his dead beloved
Bachelor #2: a poverty-stricken, unsuccessful (in his lifetime) artist with schizophrenia, psychosis and OCD
Bachelor #3: another bi-polar with narcissistic tendencies who had great difficulty finishing anything he started and who also was gay with a penchant for very young, effeminate teenage boys
I thought perhaps if I went back and re-answered the questionnaire again more carefully, I might fare better with my choices of potential sweethearts, but no such luck. There were the same three gentlemen awaiting my decision. Apparently I am who I am and this is my destiny, so how hard could this be? An outrageously arrogant gay pedophile isn't my thing (and I obviously would not be his, which wouldn't be any fun for either of us), nor is a psychotic self-mutilator (and since I like to talk so much, I need a man with both ears in working order), so I chose Bachelor #1.
Perhaps had I not been quite so honest in my answers, or at least left out the part about my liking the idea of seeing visions (that would be so cool), or dating a man who saw visions (still cool) I might have ended up with a more mundane choice of men, but isn't honesty supposed to be the best policy? And for a dead guy, our date rocked, so who can complain?
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