I took the day off today to do some Get Out the Vote volunteering, and since I knew I had to get up only early enough to vote before my 12:00 shift, I stayed up entirely too late doing nothing particularly important. You know, like trying to get the very buggy Someecards Facebook application to work so that I could post this on my profile and send it to all of my Facebook-connected friends.
Remember, when in doubt, just say NO to the crazy old white guy. Also, remember this:
I'm sorry. For me, that one just never gets old. But I'll stop now before I entirely alienate and offend my three Republican readers.
I joke, but obviously I do feel strongly and care deeply about the outcome of this year's election, so I can't pretend the sentiment isn't at least partly real. I should try to articulate it with thoughtful comments, however, rather than just cheap jokes, and yet I just don't have the energy or the words for that right now. You know who I voted for. If you voted for the same guy, then you know why. Other people have expressed their support for Obama far more eloquently than I feel capable of doing right now. I am tired. I am nervous. (Having CNN on in my living room while I type this really isn't helping with that last one.) And I need to get off my computer already and decorate the "Yes We Can" cake I'm bringing to an Election Night party tonight.
I'm supposed to be sharing a date story, though. And today, Election Day, the date that's on my mind is my very first meMarmony date. I already wrote about that date, actually, although I wrote about it before I was ready to publicly state where I met him. It was nearly three years ago, it was shortly after my first foray on meMarmony, it did not go particularly well. It was very, very many bad dates ago, however, so in retrospect, it's merely a blip. The only reason I'm thinking about him today has to do with what he wrote in his first set of free-form questions to me.
I don't remember answering any political questions in the approximately 427-item assessment used to match me with people, and I certainly didn't mention politics on my profile, either, but apparently he knew I was decidedly liberal (or just wanted to weed me out if I wasn't), because for his very first question to me, he asked the following: "So, if things don't go the way I hope they will, and the Democrats don't take back control of Congress this year [Note: It was early 2006 at the time], and our country becomes even more fascist than it already is, will you move to Canada with me?"
We hadn't even met face-to-face and already he was asking me to cohabitate! Maybe men WEREN'T stereotypically afraid of commitment, I thought! OK, I didn't think that at all. What I thought was, "OK, creative approach. Maybe I'll like this guy."
As it turned out, I did not like this guy. We had several things in common on the surface, but no connection whatsoever deeper than that. Hence, he became the first in a long (long, long) string of meMarmony first dates that were also only dates. C'est la vie. Perhaps today he's sitting at home with an equally stone-faced, humorless, ironically gun-toting liberal girl, nervously watching election results on TV and researching Canadian citizenship guidelines just in case.