fatique sets in

i can't do this
anymore she told
me the other day
while lying in bed.
i am the statue
of liberty of internet
dating. give me
your tired your poor,
etc., she said.
oh, i said in response.
so why don't you stop.
i'm looking for my
next cell mate, i mean
soul mate she said. i
want to be in love,
or at least find
someone fun that i can
have sex with and
leaves early in
the morning so that
i don't have to talk
to him about his ex
wife and how strapped
he is paying alimony
and child support.
we're setting the bar high,
aren't we, i told her.
she shrugged. i'm
getting old. look at
the roots in my hair,
i wear sunglasses all
the time to hide my
wrinkles. i don't
want to hear another
person's life story.
i'm up to here with
all of that dating
chit chat, being
interviewed by an
endless parade of
balding penquins with
twitches and sausage
fingers. yikes, i
said, is it really
that bad. no, she
said and smiled,
kissing me on the
cheek. i did meet you
afterall.