meet thousands of lonely women

The sidebar ad 
is sad tragic fun. 
I am picturing this. 

I'm the only one 
heading out fresh, 
chipper and dressed 
all sly,
to 

"meet thousands of lonely women" 

Some guy!
I expect they've all rented
a hall. Some event! 

I mean
it says
"meet" 

(and "thousands")
- so this is no one-to-one
correspondence course.
The amount of time that
would have to be spent
on such homework binge!

It would take all month!
To a year or more! No,
let's
this once
just simplify:

let's meet.

And greet! Perchance to mix,
match, meld and mate, just 
- me?

And thousands of

lonely 
women? 

Why? 

I mean, why are they lonely?
I'm not.
Something doesn't fit
on my buffet plate, here
contemplating this hot
and cold, cool, warm potluck
smorgasbord of lonely women.
All
laid out
to "meet." Something
seamy, seemingly in
the layout. It's the

"lonely"

I think, that alarms
- if you must know.
If so many come 

together

to meet just one
someone - admittedly, 
a wildly great guy! Who 
wouldn't? - but having
united for such purpose, 

would they still be lonely? 

I wouldn't.
And women,
if you don't know,
can socialize like mad
together, effortlessly
when they find themselves
gathered together to meet me. 

Perhaps not "effortlessly." Still, 
thousands of women can sure 
make it look easy! 

Picture me as I step all lively
and bright into a rented hall, only
to find thousands of women - there
to meet, supposedly! But they've
already met! Each other, and 

they're not at all lonely. Don't
seem so. There's so much
lively and burbling well
-met dynamism surging
in jolt, current, juice all
through and about all
around the room,
my wonderbolt
of jaunty jut

don't even drop the bucket!

Women, damn. They've evolved
a cohesive social hierarchy while
waiting for me to show up! Now
it's closed 

so it seems.
No BIG gap for the man of the hour,
shown up late - thought that was the
fashion, treated like a fad! Bygone

and no style at all. Too soon to pose
retro, me coming in to this date late
just seems somehow cliché. No 

passé 

These women, making passé at me
(which is more an unmaking than 
a making) aren't "lonely!" False
advert! Thousands of women 

cannot be "lonely" except of course 
individually, in the aching pit and deep
well of being's each own subjective
alienation - we all get that. In which 

however we find social buzz, flit
and coursing is a pretty full, sweet
antidote! For the blues, for the dumps,  

for
a lot of people. Well damn, came late,
all these women met already. I should
of
clicked
fast first. Instead
I went wrote
a poem 

antisocial move 
there 

almost hostile, somebody 
might accuse. I mean, 

it could seem so  

I'm more a one-to-one 
guy
to be

honest. I feel that
to meet thousands 
of lonely women

would 
probably
be more fun for me

than all but maybe one 
of them. And then when
we'd clicked, hit it off
like rolling gold downhill
to pleasant meadows, she'd 

pull the plug! She'd be like
- suddenly considerate of 
all the others, conscious 
of the milieu and tableau
of such scenes, of obligations
such social moments always
imply, 
rather than come right out 
directly. It would be all going 
swimmingly, shooting the rapids 
towards everlasting falls, when - 

WHAM! She upbraids and berates
me 

me
for
focusing
on
her

and neglecting what I'm supposedly 
"here for" She's like
"GO AWAY. GO PAY 
attention to the thousands
of women 'here to meet you'!
That's why you came, isn't it?
You didn't come to meet ME,
you want thousands of women
lonely for you - welp! There
they are."

Taken aback, astonished, 
what the huh. Banished
with a huff and a sniff
when it was going so
well!

Well! 

Except every damn one of them
would be like that! You can't 
tell me they wouldn't! The 
setup is rigged for it. It's 

a trap! Women
are way too
considerate 
for a scheme
like this to fly,
I suspect 

and reckon   

but what do I know 
I'm just one guy