I've been "talking" (sort of against my will) to a guy with some form of autism. I made the mistake of asking in this thread whether he had any mental or developmental disorders, and he emailed me this treatise about his sexual inclinations rooted in his childhood. I suggested that he seek professional help to enable him to engage with the world in a healthier manner, and he sent me two more long emails going on about how he knows it's unhealthy and examples of ways that women interact with men that piss him off (which are perfectly legitimate and rational things, it turns out).

There are some fucked. up. people on that dang site.

i'm going to visit Tim this spring from April 22 to May 25. this is pretty much our last chance to figure out whether we want to stay together.

i have a feeling in my gut that i'm going to get my heart broken.

"ahh, the straw man! good work, ugly and now demonstratively incapable opponent. sadly, as a female, your romantic prospects are still extremely high. ugly, unintelligent women still take precedence over fat chicks. i'm just going to have to trust the magic on this one and assume our species is still the better for it, even though you'll certainly queef out some retards if you opt not to get scraped again the next time you've got one growing in there."

Tim wrote me an email full of his usual detached waffling on Wednesday, 6 days after i made my declaration (and after i made a once-filtered journal entry about it available for him to read).

i talked to him via IM on Thursday. after this conversation i realized i was not in as righteous a position as i thought myself to be - he's not interested in being in a relationship with me because my life is a failure. i was at my parents' house that evening and was going to stay the night, but around 3am i decided i was too upset to get any sleep, so i made the hour-plus drive back to my apartment and stayed up until 6 or so (i'm not sure; i fell asleep at the computer).

yesterday (Friday) i contacted him again and began needling him to hit me with all my other pitfalls. he obliged, to an extent, which was enough to leave me crying until i'd given myself a headache. my dad's birthday dinner was supposed to be this night, but i lied and told my mom that i'd thrown up and didn't feel well enough to meet them.

i messed up my dad's birthday plans, and now i'm at it again.


and no, i don't know what the fuck i'm trying to do, in case you were going to ask.

I told Tim I'm not talking to him any more until he figures out what he wants from me.

we'll see how it goes.

me: "b00bguy added you to his favorites list"
Tim: he has moobs
me: he doesn't have a picture
Tim: why else would he have it in his name
me: can't argue with that reasoning
Tim: I would assume the same of someone called cockgirl33

so are we going to start saying "twenty-ten" or continue on the "two thousand (and) ten" track?