Hopeless Romantic Joke

Women have never been my forte. The first girl I ever liked doesn't even know I speak English, much less say a word to me. The last girl I liked bottles me up like Jack McFarland in Will And Grace despite the flailing of my arms to get out of the "friend zone." And in between, I have been yelled at and laughed at. I have been misunderstood and embarassed. I am Cusack's Rob Gordon in High Fidelity, soaking wet and face down in the mud. But no beautiful blonde picks me up in her Honda Accord. Nope. Not even a Saab.

I wish I could say that my romantic history were "coulda-beens" and "woulda-beens," but even that would be a stretch. I've been trying to neatly package the blame of a .000 batting average to something outside of my control. Just to list a few:
1) I am too nice of a guy. And girls don't like nice guys.
2) I am the king of the "friend zone."
3) I am an Asian guy, and no one likes Asian guys. Not even Asian girls. Not even Asian gay guys.

But these excuses never make any sense. In rebuttal:
1) I am not a nice guy. I have called straight women lesbians. I have hit children in the past two years. I have called women cunt to your faces. I pick fights with people just because I find their face to be ugly.
2) My success rate with women who do not put me in their "friend zone" is equally poor.
3) Pulling out the race card is like kicking a guy in the balls in the cage match of Wrestlemania XVII. Besides, this blog makes that theory entirely void.

The worse part of these aforementioned excuses is that no one buys them. Not even me.

And thus, the only possible outcome is my status of the "hopeless romantic joke." There's one in every group. And like the saying goes, if you don't know who it is, the "hopeless romantic joke" is you. That is why it took me 21 years to figure this one out. You all know people like me. We are the losers who pathetically write love poems (to woo hearts) and bitter poems (to show off our muscular...ink) to no avail. We make mix CDs and dream of different ways to defeat the captain of the football team. We live off of chick flicks that every guy is supposed to hate, but we take pride in watching and loving them in the hopes of appreciative women.

Hopeless romantics always begin off as well...romantic, sweet, unique. But that's where it ends. Our complicated plans for relational victory gets smothered, covered, and scattered. So the fairy tale never takes place. And why should it? Fairy tales revolve around women finding love. Not men fighting for it.

But the instinct of pity for the poor sap quickly subsides when it becomes humorous. One man failing in the chase of the woman he loves is a Shakepearean tragedy. One man being shut down in the pursuit of women in the span of several years is a Kevin Smith comedy. Call up the agents for Carrey, Carrell, and Ferrell. Get ready to blow the box office records away and send Titanic floating into oblivion.

So this is my life -- highlited by at least one hopeless romantic joke story per year. There is no use telling each one in detail not because I cannot handle the pain, but chances are -- these stories will spread like wildfire to your ear within weeks if not days. And if you still haven't heard Yih's script of romantic failures, just ask any one of his close friends. They laugh the hardest.

But here's to me. The sap. Here's to me. The man women never want and men never want to be. Here's to me. The foreign film comedy hero because he never gets the girl. Ever. Here's to me. The hopeless romantic joke.

Cheers!