Sorry Insects, I'm Just Not That Into You

There's something kind of cool about people being attracted to you. That feeling of knowing a fellow human finds you engaging, charming, thought-provoking and yep, even sexy. It can be an exhilarating sensation, and definitely something we should all get to experience.

With me, this happens with bugs. No, they don't want to date me, but for yet-to-be determined reasons, insects really, really dig me. And they're pretty blunt about letting me know. Some examples:

My old job in Toronto involved me directing entertainment news segments at the beach. On multiple occasions, wasps would craw all over me: arms, legs, face -- even behind my sunglasses. (Terrifying, in case you're wondering.) Meanwhile, my crew remained unscathed.

At a recent outdoor wedding reception in Boston, I was brutalized by a series of well-placed mosquito bites, which created a red-dotted constellation along my calves. (Kinda looked like the really, really Big Dipper.) Other attendees? Nary a bite.

When I first moved to Los Angeles, I briefly stayed with a psychologically questionable woman who owned a cat. An outdoor cat to be exact. By the end of week one, I had no less than 50 flea bites. Ever had a flea bite? They're like mosquito bites on steroids. It was so painful I could barely walk. Meanwhile, the cat's owner was somehow immune to these minuscule menaces. What gives? Since then, the only flea I have any respect for is this guy.

And yes, now the worst story of all. A few years back, a company I worked for (name redacted) had a bed bug infestation. Bed bugs are like fleas if fleas were somehow granted the gift of near immortality. Take a shower or wash your sheets -- no more fleas. Do this with bed bugs and they simply laugh at you. Why? Because bed bugs are the sociopaths of the insect world. Or they're kinda like the Borg from Star Trek: cold and relentless, with a collective goal of taking over the entire g-darn universe. Sure, bed bugs can be defeated, but it ain't easy, son.

But even as soulless biting machines, these little critters loved me too. We're talking the deep abiding love that two humans dream of having for each other. Needless to say, the feeling was not mutual. And they didn't exactly take the break-up well. In fact, I pretty much had to take out the insect version of a restraining order until they got the message.

So why me? Is it because I'm a ginger, and our DNA is on the outlier end of the spectrum? Is it an issue of pheromones? (I do pride myself on always smelling great.) Or maybe I just have the kind of face that screams out, "Hey, maybe you'd like to consider biting me in inappropriate places." I may never know.

But to all the insects out there, I say this: you guys are great and all. Really, you are. I'm sure you serve some vital function with regards to keeping our precariously-balanced ecosystem in check and blah blah blah. So major high-fives for that. But I think you should consider seeing other people. It's not you -- it's me:

I'm just not ready for this kind of commitment. Plus all the pain and itching. That sucks too. It's a whole tapestry of reasons, really. So maybe it's best to rip the Band-Aid off right now, instead of going through the motions any longer. I wish you the best in all your future endeavors.

Also, if you leave now I promise not to step on you.