If only I could date seniors...

Today blogging feels like talking to myself. And not in a productive way. Does anyone even read this or am I merely flapping my metaphorical gums in vain? Not vain. Writing, even for myself alone, is worth the effort. But I wonder who's out there...
So the date? You're curious? (Whether you are or not I plan to tell you about it.) Well - I hate to say "meh" but that's all the poetic enthusiasm I can muster. It seems I develop insatiable and all consuming crushes on men who have ZERO interest in me. Unfortunately this apathy is transferred onto the few-and-far-between fantastic gentlemen who would extend me the courtesy of dinner and good manners. Genuinely good guys. I am not cut out for dating. It's consistently confirmed on the rare occasion that I try it. So much for a little romance.
I did however, have the privilege of meeting the most lovely man on my cab ride home.
(So there is greater purpose)
The gentleman who drove me home, Afbad, is a Pakistani immigrant. We got into a friendly 4am chat about social justice (as I seem to get into with EVERYONE, in particular cab drivers). I eventually elicit from him that he is alone in this country. He knows no one. "You go where the food is," he says. My heart is broken.
How can people be so lonely in a world so absolutely FULL of other people? Kristie thinks that he's a creep and is trying to pull a fast one. I hope, in a strange way for his sake, that she's right. That means life is actually better for him than it seemed. As it is, it seems I've become the first Canadian friend to a previously retired Pakistani man. What an unlikely friendship. Though, I look more forward to a date with him than anyone else on the radar. I wonder how his story goes.