I Am Lasagne

Each one is like a little window. It’s like looking through the window of someone’s house, you get a snapshot of a stranger’s life. And then you have to try and picture yourself in that life. With that person.
It starts with smiling lonely faces. I click on one -brunette, blonde, red head- and I read. They tell me about themselves, what they are like, what they like, and what they like to do. It’s a list of ingredients, a photograph and a list of ingredients. A whole complex life packaged like it was a TV dinner. Mine is there too. I am Chicken Korma. I am Chilli Con Carne. I am Lasagne. Love me.
If you ever meet, if it ever reaches that stage, then you feel as if you are starting a book midway through. At this age, you are. You don’t know what’s come before, you just started on the chapter you are in. Everything is new, you have to understand this main character, this heroine, her motivations, how she reached this point. Then you must decide if you want to join her for the rest of her story.
Internet dating. It’s a bitch.