PS: I’ve Got Warts.
Apparently there are things called dating apps.
You can post a picture of yourself and a few notes.
Eg. “I’m bright, witty, intelligent and fun to be with. When I’m not winning marathons, I’m completing my PHD in metaphysics. I’m impossibly good-looking and part owner of that famous winery/restaurant that people flock to. I enjoy listening to and playing heavy metal music in my garage and at that seedy pub with the sticky carpet.”
Such a profile would create a lot of interest, and this lucky fellow/lady would soon be awash with prospective suitors.
Now all of those things might be true, but they don’t tell the whole story. We all have a murky side. The bits of us that are damaged and defective. There are always some things that we are not proud of and wish that we could expunge. In short…we all have some ugly, stinky, fetid warts.
This becomes obvious when true love meets real life and the chemistry of passion gurgles in the mundane laboratory of daily life.
We discover that we are not quite the dashing shiny saint we would like to be. The socks, the laundry and the way the dishwasher is stacked are issues of vital national importance. The church of God and the state of the nation rely heavily on these precarious fundamentals, and they are not negotiable. Ever!
So a more honest profile might read.
“I’m grumpy first thing in the morning. I once inexcusably broke someone’s heart for absolutely no reason at all. I am painfully anal about time, and on Friday night, after a bad week, I’ve been known to drink more than I should. I have a dysfunctional relationship with the people who love me most. Are you the person who can love me?
Yes, says the Master. I have already been loving you.
P.S. I have warts.”