Let’s face it. Whether you’re goth or normcore, dating is dreary. And not in the good, looking-out-the-foggy-window-and-contemplating-your-mortality kind of way. If you try to meet people in in public, first you have to go out in public. And then you have to talk to people. If that wasn’t bad enough, they say things like “why are you dressed like that?” instead of “The beauty of your innermost soul radiates to your cleavage.”
Enter online dating. I’ve flirted a bit with it a little in the past. I exchanged messages with a user named TempleofArtemis who sent me a video of himself taking a shower while “Release the Bats” by The Birthday Party was playing in the background. I could see his tighty-whities on the floor.
I decided to give it another try for the sake of the column. There are many goth dating sites out there, one of which says it is for goths seeking “friendship of matrimony.” I thought about trying that one, but quickly became weary that I would be bought by a pseudo-goth seeking matrimony. You can’t be too careful with the fine print. It could be kind of a cool Havisham thing, having some guy secretly buy me and then wait out my life in a bunker underground, wearing a rapidly molding wedding dress and surviving on canned carrots. I would probably write a lot of poem if he let me have a pen.
But that is not my calling on Earth, despite all the close calls to that scenario I’ve had. I know my calling is more deep and more vast than being a bunker wife. I know it as I know the darkness that envelops me as I lie in my bathroom, feeling the water chill around me. lying back so my hair flows like seaweed. I do not film this bath and send it to admirers. My favorite bath song is “The Drowing” by Christian Death. I love this part:
Like you – I am broken and fragile
Like you – I am tasting my heart for the first time
Like you – I am feeding on slumber
Like you – I’ve left my eyes far behind me
Down for the count I’m still drowning
I’m still drowning
It’s a perfect time to daydream about when and where I will meet my true love. One night I left such a bath and donned a black silk kimono, leaving it open a slit to indicate to the universe that I was welcoming romantic love. Then I went to my computer and started a profile on http://www.gothongoth.com. On any dating site, it’s important to contemplate your username. You don’t want it to be stupid. I chose opheliahastoreapplyhereyeliner. I thought it was coquettish and immaculate. Then I had to pick some pictures. This was hard because I wanted to show all the facets of my goth-ness. I put on a long, flowing romantigoth skirt, and then I put on a leather miniskirt on top of it. I only shave my eyebrows for special occasions and wasn’t sure what to do about that, so I just shaved one. I drew on a dramatic eyebrow, one that would make me mysterious, yet approachable. Then I went around the house posing with the things that are most “me”: looseleaf tea, dark arts powder, my lamp with the fuzzy black shade, my chain that looks like a python, and a stethoscope to hear my own heartbeat. I tried lighting the photos with some candles, a flashlight, and a glow-stick I had in the freezer. The pictures were dark, but I made my point.
Soon, my profile was up, and I was getting lots of attention! A lot of guys wrote me about they python chain. They asked me what I liked to do with it, and if I like other people to use it on me. I was flattered at first but then got to thinking about it. I took that picture down. After a couple hours, I got a message from TheSunBringsThePain. His pictures were very brooding and sexy. We started messaging about music and books and things, and then things got sexy. It started when he said that my one-eyebrowed picture turned his penis into a pillar of alabaster marble. In no time, he was telling me that if my pussy was ever buried six feed underground, he would dig it up, even if there was several feet of snow covering my tomb. I felt an electric shiver at that. He asked if my stethoscope checked out other organs, and he said that if I was ever gone from his life he would turn to laudanum to fight the pain, though no ether would combat the pain of my body being amputated from his.
Readers, I meant to write this column to give you tips on how to navigate the world of online dating. I had meant to give you advice on planning the perfect goth date and how to dress for it. Maybe I got absorbed in my own pursuit. It doesn’t seem right to tell you how things unfolded after the steamy messages exchanged. And I didn’t give you a lot of advice. I’m sorry if I let you down. But I like to think that I also have shown that you can’t predict what the stars will bring to your love life, even when you strip it down to goth-on-goth.
