The Law of Unintended Consequences

The Law of Unintended Consequences states that each cause has more than one effect. That means that all of the implications of human actions are definitely not planned, and are many times completely unexpected. So the things that we do (or write) can have other (and often surprising) results than we had originally anticipated.

This post has been written and rewritten several times already, in my head. I wasn't really sure exactly what I wanted to say or how I wanted to say it. This blog has taken a rather unexpected turn in the last few weeks. It is perhaps more correct to say that my life has taken a bit of a detour because of this blog.

A few weeks ago "Kommissarie Curiosa" was hijacked by a character named Fraytonto. We'll call him Tonto for short. You know, like the Lone Ranger's Indian sidekick. A little google research revealed that "Tonto" means "fool" in Spanish. Why the Lone Ranger's Native American associate had a Spanish name is another question.

Tonto lured me into a very lengthy debate in the middle of the night via a few not-so-nice comments questioning my intelligence and accusing me of being a "bimbo." Some of you regular readers might recall how miffed I was at such name-calling. I'm generally pretty laid back and it takes a lot to piss me off, but this tactic certainly succeeded. He baited me, and I bit. In fact, I think I'll re-post his first comment here, and let his words speak for themselves:

Couldn't pinpoint it but this is what's wrong with this bimbo blog. A trite, incredibly mundane though seemingly clever sex-in-the-city-wanna-be series of posts ... This just came to your town courtesy of (where else) the good old US of A. It is not enough to be disgraced by your inept leaders. You have to do it for yourself in this cutesy 'look at me I'm so clever I diss guys... TOOO COOOL cool for you' stint. God bless America.

Well, um, yes. A little bit below the belt, but an effective way to get my attention.

This sparring continued for a few days through comments in the blog. I must say that my moment of glory occurred at 2:49 am when I saw that he had returned once again to check the blog after he claimed he was going to go to bed. At 2:41 am I had written "I bet you just can't resist," and sure enough he popped up again at 02:49:25 and again at 02:49:35 on an ISP address registered in Lund. Gotcha, Tonto.

After a few days of this, we took it to MSN messenger. After about 24 hours of insulting each other, we finally started to "get real." Without hurling intellectual grenades back and forth at each other, or otherwise devising methods to mentally squash our worthy opponents.

I also had to break rule number one of anonymous blogging: anonymity. Turns out, that may not have been such a bad move. We seemed to have a lot in common, and both felt that it isn't often that you come across someone with whom you really "click."

But when it comes right down to it, what really matters is how you interact with another person in real life. In the name of spontaneity and romance, I hopped on a plane to Lund a week-and-a-half later, seriously questioning my sanity the whole way there. I had a back-up plan to stay with some of my ex-pat friends in Malmö should Tonto turn out to be four feet tall and smelly, but I felt that the whole situation was so unusual and strange that I had to take a chance.

Turns out, we actually kind of get along in real life, although the social democrat vs. libertarian discussion remains (and likely will remain that way) unresolved. It one of those things where you have to quite frankly "see what happens." ("It" in this case refers to the whole situation, not to political-ideological differences.)

So this means that my "under-the-covers investigation" has taken quite a dramatic turn. When I started this blog last month, it really was a way to blow off some steam about dating in a foreign country and it's associated frustrations. But in the course of sussing out the "strong, silent, Nordic type," I managed to find, quite unintentionally, a tall, dark, and definitely not silent Southern type.

By the way, the moral of this story is NOT that calling a girl a bimbo is a good way to pick her up. Under normal circumstances, it will just get you slapped. I guess it's actually that age-old adage: you'll find it when and where you least expect it.