Puttin' myself out there

I'm a pathologically independent person. "No, thanks, I can do it" or "that's OK, I don't need any help" are two of my most overused phrases. I'm not sure where this came from. Possibly a life-long fear of abandonment, or being raised to not count on anyone but myself. It's served me well career-wise, but not so well romantically. Over the years I've developed the philosophy that I just don't "need" a romantic partner. I've managed to traipse through the last five or six years by just going through the motions: a dinner date here, a movie there, a trick here (and there)--all of them ending regretfully in a "I'm sorry, this just isn't going anywhere."

But I've been doing some thinking lately about this non-existent love life. It's been far too long since I've had that ga-ga feeling for someone. You know, that feeling where you think about the person all day long or can't wait to talk to or spend time with him, etc. etc.? Somewhere along the line I think I may have somehow lost (or excreted, or charred, or corroded) my ga-ga gene.

I say "lost," of course, to hold on to some semblance of hope that it might be found once again. Hoping I that the lack of such emotion hasn't been permanently fused in my brain as a defense mechanism. I mean, I love my dog. I love my house. I love my Mom and Dad. I love my friends. I love my blog readers. I love, all the time. So, I think I still have the physical predisposition for the right neurons to traverse the right synapses when the right person comes along. The question is, will he? Given my current lifestyle and schedule and hobbies and pastimes, I've got NO CLUE how I'm supposed to meet someone. I've given up on bars and Gay.com and cruising the grocery store check out boys, the men's room at Home Depot and the alley behind the Taco Bell. I'm out of options.

So, today, I signed up for a Match.com profile. I took a frigging personality test. I paid money. I put my picture up. I feel so unbelievably vulnerable, and I hate that. What happens when no one clicks on me? What happens if everyone clicks on me? I can't stand the pressure. My only hope is to appreciate that I am not alone in this process.

So, I'll keep you posted on how things go. Cross your fingers, or, if you're inclined, say a little prayer for the people that click on me me.