Trowa Barton (aka Darth Sweetie)

Even with the latest technological advances, the complexity of human relationships can seldom be bypassed. Now that our random thought of the day is out of the way, I can say the following: dating SO's is so cool.
Given the environment that twinkies are in, this is hard to do considering that one-to-one interactions are lost in the standard dinner mob, gaming mob, movie mob, mobbing mob, robbing mob, slacking mob, and hacking mob. It's nice one in a while to remove such distractions and be in a serene environment with just the person you care about.
I admit that I face today's dating scene with skepticism, especially when dealing with the "blinkers" or "normals" or "humans". There is a severe degree of calculated artificiality when trying to do a first date: clothes, make-up, car, perfume, apartment. It feels like all style and no substance. Resulting conversations are the standard template: Who are you? What do you want? Lacks originality. Then again, these are humans.

Dating your SO is different. Especially if it's a twinkie SO. For starters, there is no artificiality, no synthetics. This is because the two people already surpassed the first stage of getting to know each other through mobs in a warm, friendly environment. You already make the first impression (and they like you anyway), and hence there is no further worries. Their true selves are revealed and welcomed by each other. Now they can have fun. They can reveal new things to each other to give more depth, even to surprise. It's like falling in love over again.
Such is the case when I went out last Tuesday with my primary Auror. (I say primary since I'm polyamorous even though I have no secondary. Hope to change that.) We had a nice quiet dinner together in a place on the North End that I haven't been in years. It was just the two of us. We played like a couple of beings from another dimension sent to Boston to observe humanity. We had fun. She was as lovely as the first day we went out. I welcome more nights like this with her and others.
As I write this, I think about an illusion made by a certain magician as he told a romance story that takes place in Tibet. A man tries to win the heart of a beautiful princess with a crystal necklace. But the necklace is on top of a 20ft pole. He uses levitation to secure it to the song of Sting's "Straight to My Heart."

Well in a hundred years from now
They will attempt to tell us how
A scientific means to bliss
Will supersede the human kiss

A sub atomic chain
Will maybe galvanize the brain
A biochemic trance
Will eliminate romance

But why ever should we care
When there are arrows in the air
Formed by lovers' ancient art
That go straight to my heart

A future sugar coated pill
Would give our lovers time to kill
I think they're working far too much
For the redundancy of touch

But what will make me yours
Are a million deadly spores
Formed by lovers' ancient art
That go straight to my heart

Come into my door
Be the light of my life
Come into my door

You'll never have to sweep the floor
Come into my door
Be the light of my life
Come into my door
Come and be my wife
I'll be true
To no one but you

If it's a future world we fear
We have tomorrow's seeds right here
For you can hold them in your hand
Or let them fall into the sand

But if our love is pure
The only thing of which we're sure
Then you can play your part
And go straight to my heart

If I should seek immunity
And love you with impunity
Then the only thing to do
Is for me to pledge myself to you

But they only dealt one card
So for me it is not hard
You're the bright star in my chart
You go straight to my heart

Come into my door
Be the light of my life
Come into my door
You'll never have to sweep the floor
Come into my door
Be the light of my life
Come into my door
Come and be my wife
I'll be true
To no one but you

I want to be reckless. I want to be wicked. I want to be something other than a gentleman. Sometimes I feel better with machines and equations than with people. At least there's predictability in mechanical engineering.