monkee has asked me a favor and I feel like giving in today because... Oh, I don't know. Because it is Day 1 of my being unemployed and I have nothing better to do than post a picture of my client shirtless? If you think that is very mean of me, then I guess now is the optimum moment to tell you that it was a good decision then, on my part, to not post his other shirtless pics. Because one photo of my client shirtless is already mean and if I go for two? Then that makes me horrible. If I ever take leave of my senses and shoot for three, what then? That makes me cruel, people. Cruel and heartless. So here's just one photo of him shirtless. Just don't forget to wipe that drool off your face after.

This entry has been edited. To be more concise: I have taken down the shirtless photo. I have figured it's been way too long for me to exploit my client.;) So yeah, your eyes idn't just deceive you. If you got here just today... Ta-da! Welcome my new Little Ms. Match signature. I know, I know. The photo of a hot shirtless guy is more interesting but please keep in mind that I am a wholesome citizen of the world. Thus, shirtless photos of hot guys shoul be limited.

Have I Got a Guy for You: What Really Happens When Mom Fixes You Up edited by Alix Strauss

I remember a time not so terribly long ago when I mourned being single and having no prospects at the time. I wish I had this book at the time. I might have led me to appreciate my single status a lot more. Things could always, always be worse.

In Have I Got a Guy for You, Strauss has compiled a collection of personal essays that reflect upon those times when a mother tries to push her daughter down the aisle one date at a time. If these stories are any indication, mothers who take personally their daughter's lack of a marriage license would do better to employ reverse psychology. Maternal choices made in this frame of mind are not rational and might just send a good Jewish daughter screaming toward the closest convent.

I read this book over several weeks, one story at a time as the desire hit me.  I also read stories somewhat randomly to get a little variety.  Reading it this way really helped me enjoy it.  Had I read them continuously, it would have been too much for me.  This is true of most compilations and does not necessarily take away from this book.

Have I Got a Guy for You would make a great gift for a college age woman or young professional.  It might even be more perfect to give to a married woman who's starting to think that the single life was better.  Just reading Aury Wallington's experiences on her date with a role playing-obsessed dentist who tricked her into attending a D&D convention while wearing a too-tight costume (size suggested by mother) will make most women fall right back in love with their husbands, belching and all.

All you have to do is leave a comment right here on this post!  That's it.  It's that simple.  One lucky reader will win a free signed copy.  So go ahead, post to your heart's content.

The game is on!  The winner will be announced on July 1st!

The search for Mr. Right has never been portrayed with more quirks and charms than it is in Shannon Yarbrough's Stealing Wishes. This is a book that is full of heart and hope, filled with the kind of characters you'll want to know…and for whom you will come to wish the very best. An emotional, engaging read, you'll want to return to the world of Stealing Wishes again and again.
--Rick R. Reed, author of IM and Orientation

Order How to Be Single: A Novel from Amazon for $9.99

Don't have Amazon Kindle? You can always purchase it from here
Or if you prefer to read the Print editions instead, you can get it from here

As it was 22 years ago, today opens a momentous coming together of days.

One other Friday the 13th in 1986, Hubs graduated from the University of Tennessee. Robe pressed, mortarboard sitting at a nonchalant angle, and diploma in hand, he walked across the stage through a gauntlet of professors and dignitaries as friends, family and I cheered.

The following morning, still giddy from finally finishing a successful stint in college, Hubs walked another gauntlet before friends, family and the eyes of God, and took me as his wife.

His father stood as his Best Man as my father escorted me to the altar where my stepfather, an ordained Presbyterian minister, waited to unite us in holy matrimony.

As I faced him, our hands clasped, dressed in my mother's wedding gown, I could do little more than whisper my vows.

Overcome with emotions at the realization that I was actually marrying this man, the person I knew was destined to be mine, I worried that the ceremony might not 'take' because my words were barely audible.

Knowing how fragile my composure was, Hubs tried to lighten the mood. As we were pronounced 'husband and wife,' and he was given the directive to 'kiss your bride,' he leaned in close and whispered, 'No tongue!'

Three years earlier, almost to the day, Hubs and I met as Spring Quarter drew to an end.

His roommate, MF,  was the on-again/off-again boyfriend of my roommate, RF. MF had called to ask RF to go out dancing at the clubs and if she knew anyone they could fix up with Hubs. Since RF has desperate to be on-again with MF, she begged me to go.

Ever the studious coed, I said I'd go, but I didn't want to be out too late ~ finals to study for you know. I think I snuck back to the dorm around 6 a.m. We were a couple from that day forward.

When Hubs and I started dating I was a few months shy of my 21st birthday. I have been with him now longer than I was without him. In honor of our 22nd anniversary on Saturday, I give you 22 reasons why I love my husband:

1. JM
2. WK
3. Because HE. LOVES. ME. unconditionally
4. He has never given me any reason to question his faithfulness
5. He is good to his mother
6. He makes me laugh every day
7. He has a great ass
8. Bunnies
9. He has never turned down any request
10. He is incredibly romantic
11. Godfather's beef and extra cheese pizza
12. He never blamed me for WK's burn
13. He fights for WK, when no one else will
14. He's a fully involved Dad and loves his kids completely
15. He deals with my family with amazingly tactful grace
16. He puts up with all my crap and is still with me
17. He is the smartest person I know and was the only boyfriend I didn't 'dumb down' for
18. He LISTENS to me when I talk to him
19. He's got my back in a fight
20. He keeps me grounded, ever the Devil's Advocate to my insane rants
21. He is absolutely adorable
22. He is my best friend

To get information related to this article please visit: www.investigativeaccess.com

There can only be one true champ (scroll to the bottom for that result). But in my book, everyone’s a winner:

First Date Horror Stories

• Best Fuzzy Picture Sent Through Craigslist: Kat Wilder’s date at a bakery cum coffeehouse
• Best Use of a Drunk Psycho Dude: Mapi Princesa and her date from hell in Ecuador
• Best Beer Goggle Pickup: DC Nicole is saved by a beer at the cinema
• Best Angry Texting: Lisaq of 40s Singleness and her Most Bizarre Date Yet, a dinner date with a horny guy who clearly has anger texting management issues
• Best Erectile Dysfunction Product Placement: QTMama and her dinner date companion with a Cialis burning a hole in his pocket
• Best Check Splitting: One Date Wonder and her date who tallies every last cent of the dinner check
• Best Wet Dream (It’s a Metaphor, People): What Men Think and a drunk doe-eyed girl in white pants and black thong. What’s not to like about that?
• Best Blood Effects: Uncabled Heart and a Starbucks blind date with a bleeding nose
• Best Lactating Breasts: SingleMomSeeking on her first date as a nursing mom

First Date Tips

• Best Limo Ride From the Airport: Backpacking Dad’s creative suggestion to take a limousine from SFO to Golden Gate park
• Best Advice Involving a Goldfish: Happy Healthy Hip Parenting with tips for a First Date: How to Avoid Having it Be Your Last
• Best Pop Cultural Reference to Survivor: Diane from The Women’s Dish laments the modern fad of daredevil dates
• Best Embrace of Humidity: The Exception offers some great first date ideas, from outdoor concerts to wandering the wine country
• Best Wildebeest Impersonation: Lance from Honey & Lance on a first date video store pickup with an explosive climax
• Best Use of Blindfolds: Cathouse Teri’s sensual fantasy about getting to know someone inside-out. Sex first, questions later

Great First Dates

• Best Masturbation Lead-In: Honey from Honey & Lance on a first date so perfect, it turned into her current relationship
• Best Bearded Biker: Ms. Single Mama falls for a bearded biker and his Harley
• Best Use of Cleavage: Evil Woobie on cleavage and a twenty-sided dice

And the Winners are…

Honorable Mention - Mapi Princesa. Her date from hell in Ecuador was a true nail-biter, worth calling out for mention.

Second Place, and a $20 eCard goes to – What Men Think! And his First Date Horror Story.

Like I said in the contest description, humor is a good thing. I found this post Laugh My Ass Off funny. From the doe-eyed girl wearing white pants and a black thong, to the Halloween motif with a sailor suit that might have been a school-girl costume (does it matter?), What Men Think gave us details that just can’t be made up. And between a passed out girl in his car and his gentlemanly instincts, there were enough plot twists to keep me riveted.

Congratulations, What Men Think!

First Place, and a $25 eCard goes to – Honey! And her Perfect First Date.

This had a lot going for it – sexy preparation tips for a woman (shower, shave, blow dry hair, masturbate), great advice for meeting (someplace with beer, within walking distance of home – so you don’t need a ride, but if you want the other kind of ride, you can get one), clothes ripping, fingernail scratching, ravenous sex (multiple times). Her entry was part story, part advice column, with a perfect blend of straight talk, humor, and sex.

Best of all, it's a true story – they’re still together!

In Honey’s words, a first date is a delicious combination of strategic planning, thinking on your feet, witty conversation, and natural sexuality. Making rules and not being afraid to throw them out the window. Taking something that was born to be a cliché and making it your own.

Congratulations, Honey!

Thanks to everyone who participated. There were definitely some great posts. Be sure to check them all out!

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

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Ladies like being asked out by handsome men on dates and you find that the service is good and it all swimmingly and then the deal breaker comes.

These are real examples of what went wrong on dates

1) Get him a cell phone in my name on the first date?

2)It was all good until he called me long distance from Texas to borrow $1K for a land deal. It was early in the morning and I was wondering why he was buying land in Texas while he still lived at home with his parents in Oakland.

3) He told me he wore thongs.

4)It was all good until he told me that he's thinking about quitting his job to pursue his dream as a rap artist. He's 33

5)It was all good until I asked him what he did for a living and he said...."nothing."

NO JOB? NO DATE.

6)It was all good until he asked if he could move in and I've only known him for a couple of weeks...

7)told me his fantasy and proceeded to Beg, Plea and TRY TO Persuade" me to fulfill that nasty mess...

8)It was all good until he kept calling me Mrs. Him...and even introduced me as that to say strangers like the waitresses..and cashiers..making up soem fantasy mess..like "we're newleweds" or yeah she's expecting, we just found out...like Who ASKED him that...who gave a day'em...He was trying to make it seem like I was his woman to get like FREE ish and that aaawwww, response...store or club deals and ish...couples stuff...crazy...that was weir

9)It was all good until he introduced me to his boys and hung out with them..and he must have forgot I was there..because a WHOLE 'Nother side came out...the cussin'..the weed smoking...the nasty boy talkin'....UGH...turned me off...

10)It was all good until he told me he went to college in Seattle and his mom told me that he got his GED while in jail....awww hell naw, I don't do convicts.

11)It was all good until I found out he had 5 babies and 5 baby mamas,that's just too many damn suitcases.

12)It was a good until his mama got her electricity bill sent to my house. No ma'am pressed ham!!!

13) until he said he doesn't kiss with his tongue!

There will be more. I might have a few Deal breaker Wednesdays.

Please this worth stumbling, so stumble this up.

Read also: Men's Secret laws

Sorry, David (a.k.a. Dad's House, the adorable single daddy blogger) I can't resist using you as an example of what not to do when arranging a blind date with a woman you met online. Believe me, I've made worse dating mistakes, but your case is documented so beautifully.

Read it and weep everyone

Lo and behold, Bob appears - dare I say it - quite normal. Imagine my luck. And he still has a passing resemblance to John Cusack. And tickets to Artful Dodger, though he does not recall their hit "Scream" quite as well as I do. He also carries approximate directions to West 9th Street, including the estimated time it will take out-of-towners to walk there.

And free movie passes. Did I mention the free movie passes?

So. . .what about Bob? He's pretty cool. But since he's over 40, that's cool with a "C" not with a "k" and "ewl." He's also a perfect gentleman. Who looks like his picture. And thinks I look like my picture too - when he has one eye closed. Hee.

And to think I met him on okcupid, yet still made it home alive. :)

Tomorrow: the meeting with Mike, the owner of "Lunch Date." Oy, vey. For a woman not into the whole dating thing, I've just been tossed smack-dab into the middle of Lake Crazy without a life preserver.

Oh, and here's the Guinea Pig himself, in shades. . . positively Cusackian.

I was misled. The other side of the equation was good-looking, but her personality was abrasive and she listened to the well-known, mainstream versions of all the obscure indie bands I was a fan of (in my college music elitist days, that was an immediate dealbreaker: "Oh. You like Pavement? Right, then."). The evening wasn't terrible; we went for dinner and then a cup of tea at a great teahouse, although the conversation was dull and I never called her again. C'est la vie.

Since then, I have never been so lonely or unable to get a date that I've agreed to go on one. Apparently, though, neither has anyone else! The Internet ended the blind dating game! People don't agree to go out with friends of friends anymore. When someone is having trouble meeting people these days, they turn to websites like EHarmony and JewDate to find equally desperate peers looking for a little lovin' as well.

The benefits of this kind of blind dating are obvious: you get to see a picture of the person, which is an immediate plus, despite the fact that most folks take seven hundred photos of themselves, then sort out any that show that mole or that roll of neck fat. We call these people Secret Internet Fatties (SIFs) and they abound on forums, social networking sites, and especially online dating communities. If you are turning to the Internet for love, don't be fooled by these clever, but unattractive and deceptive, liars.

Anyway, there are other benefits of scoping out a profile written by someone rather than taking a friend's word for it. For instance, I'm immediately turned off by poor grammar and spelling. If I were to read, "I'm a really fun girl whom just loves to party, but I dont loose my temper easy and I'm really out-going," I'd be turning back to Internet porn. However, in taking a mutual friend's description, as in a blind date setup, you are immediately putting yourself at the mercy of that friend, a person that has a blatantly favorable bias toward your impending snoozefest of a hideous date.

This is increasingly dangerous with friends who are in longterm relationships, because they are often so desperate for other couples to go out with in big, couples-only groups, they'll say anything to put two friends together on a blind date. Online dating removes that element, allowing you to find a perfect match for your lonely heart and touchy-feely hands.

One thing that I am guilty of in terms of dating though is maybe being a little close minded--yes, strange for a girl who earns a living writing about sex. I tend to want things to go the traditional route: boy see's girl and is smitten. Girl see's boy and is also smitten. Boy asks girl out on date. Sadly, since my work tends to keep me in my apartment with only my dog for company (I can't get it up for my stories at Starbucks like other writers), the opportunity to meet a guy the ol' school way is just not really there. I realize now at the ripe age of 35 (going on 16) that I really do have to stop making fun of and swearing off other avenues such as Internet dating, set ups and all that. It is not just this realization that has given me the manic shove to get out there and try online dating and such, but also to prove that Mr.Perfect-for-me-in-spite-of-my-unusually-HIGH-standards really does exist and to shut-my-friends-and-family-the-fuck-up along-the-way.

So, as of today, I (who we will call '2Picky' ) solemly vow to go on 50 blind dates in search of Mr.Right. I also vow to record every hideous/creepy/inane/funny/embarassing and hopefully juicy detail so that other women can learn something from my experience... hopefully something positive though at this particular second I doubt it. Oops - trying to keep my mind as open as Jenna Jameson's legs!

My search begins on Craigslist...

Brain is once again fried after yet another mentally long day with work. I am in a way glad that the next two working weeks are somewhat shortened due to the Easter period. The only downside is that it means I have to cram five days work into four. Can't complain though, but do prefer Easter to be during its usual / majority time-slot of mid-April - it breaks up the year a bit more evenly with the public holidays.

Finished a sanity check of a 45 page High Level Network Design Review this evening. Am not looking forward to the the check of the Detailed Design Review in approx three weeks from now. That is going to be a bitch. The tonic for me after the review this evening was a trip down to Gertrude and Alice for coffee and reading. Knocked off just under 60 pages of The Girl Who Married a Lion. Have approx 40 pages to go now. I love that this book is short stories of between four to six pages each. Not a pressing read for a tired mind and typically entertaining in Alexander McCall-Smith style.

Speaking of this author, today marked the untimely (when is it ever timely though) passing of British film director, Anthony Minghella of The English Patient and Truly Madly Deeply - among other popular films - fame. He died after complications from neck surgery and two days away from the (made for) TV premiere of his latest film, The No.1 Ladies Detective Agency, a film based on the popular novel series written by Alexander McCall-Smith. I have read three of the novels in the series and find them entertaining, light reads. Have been wondering how the film was going to be cast and am somewhat happy to know that the lead characters are pretty much as my mind imagined, except maybe for Mma Makutsi.

Soon after learning of Anthony's passing, I read that the Arthur C. Clarke passed on overnight. Is suppose he will always be most famously known for being the author of 2001: A Space Odyssey, of which the film adaptation by Stanley Kubrick, is one of my favourite films of forever. A great legacy he has also left behind.

On the way home this afternoon, the petrol station nearest my place upped their standard unleaded fuel prices by 11 cents per litre from yesterday. Other stations across Sydney have raised prices by as much as 16 cents per litre. This is the typical collusion by the motherfuckers kind people at the fuel behemoths of Caltex, BP, Shell, Mobil and co. coming into the Easter holiday period. News stories this evening had their spokespeople stating that they are so poor by receiving only 1.5 cents from every litre sold. Oh boo hoo. So poor they are that Caltex Australia posted a meagre "oh how am I going to feed my family on my exec salary" AU$500 million profit last financial year. Arseholes.

Back to Gertrude and Alice - and keeping in line with my sporadic thoughts right now - the music was interesting this evening. At one point I wanted to go jump at the most melancholy, sad song being played. No idea who the artist was and really don't care to know....well maybe I do, so I can just source and burn all copies and masters of that song. Gosh, if one was wanting the final push when feeling suicidal, whatever that song was, would do the trick.

This was shortly followed up with a hip song. So hip, that I had the staff check their iTunes playlist for who it was. Twis' a Welsh lass by the name of Duffy and the song was Rockferry. On listening to this song again, it is very Mazzy Star-ish. I would almost swear this was Hope Sandoval in disguise.

Whilst listening to this song, kicking back on their couch and enjoying the delight that was my coffee, a couple of people parked themselves at the table nearest the couch. Immediate thought was that these people had met each other for the first time and were on a (safe) first date. This was by the way they spoke to each other in determining who gets what seat, where to sit etc. I was dead-on-balls-accurate with this thought. Not that the "she" made any bones about it being a first date - she was broadcasting herself to all and sundry on this BLIND date. "He" was somewhat shy and way more softly spoken. That said, here is some of what I learned about them - and NO, it is NOT eavesdropping when one doesn't have to strain to listen ;-)

SHE

• Is 39 years old and is the youngest of three children (two older brothers).
• Her fave cities are Sydney and Paris. Her ideal living situation would be Paris for three months per year and Sydney for the remaining nine.
• She loves Bondi.
• She is separated from her husband. In her words "I got rid of him six months ago".
• They were married for five years and together for seven overall.
• I will not state her reasons for the split - this part is her business and for her to tell.
• It was her first date since she was 27.
• Was born in Casablanca and arrived in Sydney at age four.
• Was wearing Birkenstock sandals and daggy white top.
• Has a slightly long / hooked nose and long dark hair.
• Was quite pretty and talkative.

HE

• Was somewhat shy and quietly spoken - but not quietly that he could not be heard.
• Is from France.
• He was a stylish dresser, despite being a la casual. He had hip Camper shoes.
• He has a younger 29 year old brother.
• Was once in the Army - not sure where or which one.
• Had never been to Gertrude and Alice before.
• Had a bit of an adventure in Melbourne and an incident with his hire car

That's it for him....told you he was not a big speaker. Maybe given the fact that she was a chatterbox. I also know that she is not entirely over her marriage, despite her saying so. When one keeps on giving reasons to the other person and trying to convince oneself that things are ok and as they should be, that is a total load of shit. How do I know - because I have been in that exact situation over the past two years and have heard those descriptives and self assurances many times right from my own mouth. The difference these days for me, is that is is actually true almost every day. Nearly there.

Well folks, for tonight, fittingly so, that's a wrap.

The more one writes, more one learns to understand other ones thinking, yet it is almost impossible to get the know some one through just couple of e-mails. Few of these guys, definitely more experienced with this, have told me there is no point writing for long time and one should meet soon to not to build false expectations. Yet I feel like going to a blind date especially as several of these guys have not even insisted seeing my photo (and due this I've not seen them).

My experiences of Internet dating are quite unromantic. I feel like shopping with a list, not like falling in love. Even if I want to be wise in picking my future partner, I still want to fall in love and this does not feel like it at all. I must be more romantic than I've thought, because this is really frustrating. I don't want to pick men due some random aspects or some lines in the message that might or might as well not be important for future relationship. I believe I could know more after few minutes meeting. So maybe we should meet...

The adventure began when my friend told me about a guy she worked with and how much he like Jim Carrey, my favorite actor. After talking with her about him, I asked her to set us up. She was hesitant at first but agreed. She wasn't sure we'd hit it off.

My date and I met in the parking lot of the travel agency where he and my friend worked. We took his car to the Native American Pow Wow we had planned to attend and it was in his car on the way that I began to doubt our compatibility.

“I don’t want you to think I’m arrogant,” he said, “but if I think I’m right about something, I usually am.” I couldn’t have predicted, however, that my worst dating nightmare was about to come true: that of being on a date with a self-absorbed moron! We had arrived and were casually walking through the tent areas housing the different Nations’ crafts and artworks.

Just before the Navajo booth, he said to me, “You know, the Navajos used to worship chickens a long time ago.”

I blinked, not sure I’d heard correctly. “Chickens?”

“Yes,” he replied, “Chickens. The Navajos used to worship chickens until they realized it wasn’t a masculine thing to worship so that’s why they stopped.” He chuckled a bit, seemingly amused at the thought of people worshiping Colonel Saunder’s specialty.

“No, they never worshiped chickens, Bob. Trust me.” I walked to a table across the aisle, a burning feeling beginning to grow in my belly.

“Here, let’s ask her.” He grabbed my arm and steered me toward a woman at a Navajo Nation jewelry vendor. He gave the woman a sweet smile, rubbed his chin with scholarly thought and said, “Your people used to worship chickens, didn’t they?”

The woman looked at him as if he had a few screws loose. I crouched low and slunk away as quietly as possible, trying to pretend I didn’t know this man. As I walked away, I heard him continue the conversation. I pretended to take an intense interest in some hand crafted knives and wondered how easy it would be to lop off his tongue with one.

The Navajo was obviously insulted and said, “No, I’m afraid there weren’t any Indians, Navajo or otherwise that I know of who once worshiped chickens.” And so it went. He rejoined me soon, and became preoccupied with being right about the chicken worshipers. “Where did I read that??? I know it’s true, I read it somewhere!”

I tried to ignore him for the rest of the day but it’s hard to ignore someone you’re on a date with.

On the way home, I thought I was safe from his insensible proclamations. Oh, how wrong I was! We passed several cars with bumper stickers on them. He pointed one out and said, “Do you know what that one means?”

Who cares? I thought to myself.

“Something about diving, I think.” It was maroon, with a white diagonal stripe.

"It means ‘dive or death.’ Do you know what that one means?” he pointed to a square rainbow sticker.

I bit back a sarcastic remark and instead said simply, “It means gay pride.” I looked at him and he was deep in thought.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I don’t have a problem with people being gay and all that. I just don’t understand why they have to have sex with each other!”

I don’t remember much of what happened after that, as my brain had frozen in shock. But I can assure you of this much, he didn’t get a good bye kiss!

"So, are you seeing (translate "dating") anyone?"  Right, that question again.  I know that one, I'm incredibly familiar with that one.  "Yes," I say, "as a matter of fact, I see quite well. I see people all day, every day.  How about you?  Are seeing anyone?"  And jump ahead a bit, past the part where they roll their eyes and you'll see the wheels in their head start spinning wildly out of control as they rack their brains trying to think of the name, phone number and employment status of every single guy they've ever known.  "I know a guy..." as the story goes.  "I know a guy that I went to school with; he's about your age and single.  He lives in Romania now, but you should definitely give him a call sometime - or even better - I could give him your email address.  Or, oh yes, why didn't I think of this sooner, you could be MySpace/Facebook friends."  And then they wait expectantly for you to realize, "Yes, this is IT - this obviously, must surely, of course, be "the one" I've waited my whole life for.  I mean it's a small world; Romania's not that far.  And I'm sure that if he's your friend he must be a perfect match for me...I probably don't even need to meet him."

Now, I consider myself to be 85% reasonable.  I'm intelligent, no Miss USA, but not bad either.  I'm not trashy or prudish.  I can have fun and laugh.  I'm pretty open to new experiences.  I'm confident enough to be who I am.  But at this point in the conversation I feel about as significant as the burnt out 30 watt light bulb that's in the light fixture hanging over our heads.  Seriously, some random guy in Romania?  Are you kidding me? That's the best you can come up with.  Well, at least that's better than feeling pressured into a blind date where you actually have to meet, converse and pretend that you are not utterly offended by the fact that someone thought this could be a good match for you.  So, it could be worse - he could live in town.

If he lived in town you'd feel the pressure to go, after all.  "Don't you want to be as happy as we are?"  Oh, is that happy?  Oh, right, well, ummm...okay, sure.  I'm up for meeting someone new.  Why not?  Well, because he's on his 2^nd divorce, has two kids, just filed bankruptcy, is jobless and tells me all of this in the first 30 minutes...in the car on our way to the "date" that's technically a "just get to know a new person" outing.  This totally ruined Phantom of the Opera and a trip to the Fox Theater in Atlanta...The Fox.  I love the Fox.  And he just had to spill his guts right up front.  He could have at least waited until intermission.

Or how about Elmer Fudd?  Oh, he was a great one, too.  The hunting, eastern Kentucky, never traveled more than thirty miles from Mom, wears a camouflage hat and spits his chew saliva out the juiced up, big ole tired pick up truck window date.  Mmmm.  How, I want to know, in the world, did you EVER think this could work for me?  Me, who loves to travel across an ocean, way, way more than thirty miles.  Me, who is allergic to any form of tobacco products, and deadly allergic to the idea of kissing anyone who's ever used them.  Me, who wouldn't know how to hold a gun, let alone shoot one.  Me, who doesn't want to have to get a running start in order to jump into your vehicle.  Me who hangs art on her walls, not antlers.  Me who reads and writes and listens to Coldplay and Beethoven...not Kenny Chesney and bluegrass (well, except, I actually do like Alison Krauss...but that's irrelevant).  I admit I find old Southern charm endearing: opening doors, pumping the gas for me, saying please and thank you.  But Elmer, frankly, was none of these and thus less than endearing.

Or there's the perpetual bachelor.  You know this one.  The one that needs to drive a bright red Corvette at incredibly high speeds to solidify his status as a male...and an apparently wealthy, well established one.  This is the same guy that leaves a $2 dollar tip for our waitress; yes, the waitress he spent the last hour and a half hassling and trying to be witty with.  She deserved a freakin' million dollar tip for the gracious art of handling him that she displayed.  Yes, this is also the gentlemen that feels compelled to tell you all about himself without ever thinking to ask a question in your direction.  And he's so proud of his potentially endearing Southern Charm traits aforementioned that he finds it necessary to point them out...oh, aren't I one lucky girl to be seen with you...to have you treat me so delicately, well except for the fact that you're eyeing every hussy in the place.  And if it wasn't for the strut and whole bottle of hair gel on your five remaining hairs, you might've actually had a little of that charm.

I'm not bitter or disillusioned, though I would understand if you picked-up a slight lean towards that tone.  It's more just an, "oh, would you leave it be?" tone.  I don't want to be fixed up anymore.  I don't want someone else to tell me who my perfect match is.  I don't want to act like I'm not insulted and try to walk on egg shells explaining why he was NOT in fact, my ideal, without insulting their sisters, aunts, mothers, roommates, coworkers, and friends.  I don't want to have to convince people that it's okay, I'm single, not terminally ill.  I don't want to manipulate or try to figure out my romantic destiny.  I just want to trust God to orchestrate it in His perfect timing...He is after all the giver of perfect gifts.  And I want to be me and real and comfortable and did I say real...I meant that!  I really just want to be pursued...by a normal, decent, Godly man.  And he doesn't have to be perfect, I realize I was pretty harsh above. I'm an idealist and a realist all rolled into one.  I could look past country music or hair gel addictions, I think. It's the principal of it, for me.  I deserve to be pursued and appreciated and treasured, not viewed as a charity case.  And I deserve to have the opportunity to do the same for someone else, to not be coaxed or convinced into spending time with someone, but to genuinely admire them and desire time with them.

Been  single since the beginner of December, had a few dates and came to the conclusion I'm too difficult for people .. I honestly have felt as an alien when sitting in a table having dinner..

I talk about how things are in my world, how I like to dance till 6 am, making things out of scratch, how I don;t care about the news or scientific discoveries.. (If a tree stands I don't care how that tree got there , I just care it is there) and yes when I don't agree with things I say so .. which eventually becomes a debate of opinions..

I'm not looking for anything, no sex,no relationships, no nothing. Which seems very hard to understand as well.. I go to first dates on flip flops and my hair tied up as a bun.. my goal is not to impress anyone or lie I go as I am as I want...

I find it very boring to talk about the same basic topics.. we all speak with new people ( religion,family, past etc..) saying the same stories you have said 100000000 times.. getting to know a person.. is very boring from my side..

Unless is someone who won't do what everybody else does.. and just 1 difference can make a conversation flow.. I want someone impressive that I would like to hear more about..

I don't look for love , I look to be interested in someone..

I don't want to sound arrogant I know i do a little but talk about musical taste, what happened at the last bday party.. it's all terribly boring for me..and that it's me being fully sincere.

Sometimes on my way back home I wished I would've used those 2 hours on a nap instead..

Go to --> http://www.cartoonstock.com

I woke up and considered my options. I could have called him, acting like I knew it was just a drunken rant but if that wasn’t the case, it would prove rather embarrassing. I could have called him in attempts to talk him out of what was obviously a horrible mistake, but that would be pretty pathetic too. I took the easy way out and decided to ignore it and let him contact me. As for my personal problem, well, the only remedy that could even marginally help was getting drunk with Vincent. Forgetting the outside world existed.

I didn’t know if I would be able to get ahold of him, however. He was starting to spend a lot more time with Camille, almost every other day or so, which was unheard of for Vincent. I think he has actually gone a year without spending time with anyone but me. And Camille was sweet and came around sometimes, but as people often do, Vincent wasn’t quite himself when she was present. He swore less, wore more colors. I didn’t resent her for it; she meant well, but the difference between the two of us and the three of us was massive.

I missed his nightly visits, the Styrofoam containers of Thai food he brought over, the brown leather notebook we would take turns writing poetry in, his dirty martinis, that goddamned horrible jacket. I picked up the phone and to my amazement, he was already on the line.

The night was spent sitting on the floor, gorging ourselves with peanut chicken and Tsingtao, talking about what a shit Drew was anyway. How it was best to be rid of the headache, how now I could focus on my writing career or another band. Vincent held my hand, got close to me in a more intimate way than I was used to. It struck a nerve. I burst into tears and Vincent put some Rilo Kiley on for me and we had ourselves a bit of a dance party. Nothing like Jenny Lewis to brighten my day.

In the middle of my tabletop rendition of ‘Under the Blacklight,’ Camille showed up, which was one of the worst things I could imagine. I jumped down and greeted her, accepted a bottle of vintage port and a sunflower she brought for me. It was rather sweet but in all honesty I just wanted her to leave. Instead, she informed me of a son of an excellent customer that she wanted to set me up with. Fucking blind dates, I have sworn against them as long as I can remember. But I was drunk and upset and ready to see anyone but Drew.

“Well. Okay.” Her eyes lit up and she started dialing. I knew then and there that I had made the wrong decision. The song was hazy but playing what seemed over and over and over again. “Are we breakin’ up…is there trouble between you and I…”

Last night Evan picked me up at my bar at eight. I always make a point to never get picked up at my actual residence unless we hit it off. It was fucking cold. I was wearing a brown suede jacket I had been missing wearing this season on account of all the rain. He was wearing a black Banana Republic sweater and dark, faded jeans. He was cute but from his appearance, I couldn’t imagine him wanting to date anyone that even had their nose pierced, let alone a sleeve of tattoos. He was too pretty, too polished. He didn’t even have five o’clock shadow.

We got into his forest green VW Golf and drove to downtown Campbell, the spot for our plan, drinks and dinner. I felt relatively open to meeting someone new, but a spot inside me ached for Drew’s comfortable embrace, the nervous twitch of his wrist to spot the time on his watch, the way he kissed.

Evan popped on the stereo and the Flaming Lips came on. He turned it down a bit so we could converse but we didn’t really say much of any substance.

“So, you make pretty good money over at that bar?” Which I thought was a weird question.

“I do alright. Some days are good, some days are better.” He smiled politely.

“What do you do?”

He worked at Google. He began a long, extensive description of what he did, because he either thought I was a fucking idiot that didn’t understand any concept in the code writing business, or that I was genuinely interested. To tell the truth, I was neither. So my mind wandered. I kept nodding, laughing, pretending what he said was resonating, or making me think about things or becoming interested in him. But I was thinking about waterslides, seared scallops, dumb girls who got the insides of their lips tattooed. Drew’s wings on his ankles. Wishing I could borrow them and escape the confines of this new-car smelling car, this preppy gone indie nerd from hell.

I shifted my legs, beginning to feel a familiar warmth between them. I wondered if the kid could fuck, if he at least had that going for him.

We got to Slice just in time. I felt that I might attack him at any moment. He held the door open for me.

“I need a drink,” I said. He laughed as if I had said something fabricated, a joke that had taken weeks of hard work to materialize. I rolled my eyes as he helped me remove my jacket and we both sat down.

Much to my distress, they only served beer and wine. I ordered a Budweiser. He ordered a root beer. I couldn’t believe what Camille had done to me. She could not have, in good conscience, sent me out with a sober fellow. My eyes widened. “Oh, you don’t drink?” I asked in a conversational tone.

“Oh, no, I do. I just don’t drink much beer or wine.”

I nodded, thinking. This wasn’t as bad as I thought, but in the back of my mind, I hoped he wasn’t a girl drink drunk, someone that just ‘didn’t like the taste.’ I stopped to think again. Did it really matter how the guy drank?

The root beer was IBC, and came in a glass bottle much like a regular beer would. He passed on the glass and took a swig from the bottle.

Yes it did.

Dinner couldn’t come fast enough. I had ordered a basil pesto something or other, and he decided on a combination pizza that I could try if I wanted. It was pretty heavy on the sauce, to the point of having to take to a fork and knife. For just a pizza, it was pretty damn good. I looked up from my plate and noticed a giant glob of sauce right on the side of his face.

I didn’t know what to say. I looked around, lifted my napkin to motion wiping his face. He wiped his face (with his hand!) and got some of it off, but mostly spread it around. I covered my mouth, trying not to laugh. “Uh, Evan, you still have…”

He laughed. “Guess I like my pizza a little too much huh?”

I felt my face grow warm with embarrassment. He finally got the sauce off and by then, I was laughing with him. I finished my beer, got the waiter’s attention.

“Another, please.”

On a trip to the restroom, he bumped into a woman he knew. Apparently, she was on a date as well. The trio made their way to our table. A pair of tits with red hair and a baby blue cardigan shook my hand with her fingers, told me her name was Shawna. She was a typical female, very territorial, very self-consumed. I got the ‘ex’ vibe pretty adamantly, as she was touching him a lot and speaking very deliberately. Her date on the other hand, was muted in a black hooded sweatshirt and jeans. He seemed cold and was looking down a lot. As he looked up at me to meet me (his name was James), I noticed shiny green eyes and a silver ball under his lip. I smiled, probably the most genuine smile I had offered all night and received one that I considered equally valuable. Evan practically disappeared, all wrapped up in her conversational skills, no doubt. But it was okay. James and I had taken to making faces at each other, making fun of each other’s dates.

Soon enough, the moment had passed and it was back to cold Italian food and warm beer. But there was something stirring inside me. Something I hadn’t felt since that night back at the bar when I noticed the houndstooth sneakers.

Eventually I made my way to the bathroom, and was pleasantly surprised to find James coming out at the same time. We made eye contact and said nothing. But as I passed him, his hand met mine with a rough scrap of brown paper towel. It was a ten digit phone number scribbled with a blue pen. I nodded, feeling the warmth in my cheeks before I entered the bathroom.

I was ready to leave but we hadn’t had drinks yet and apparently Evan was more interested than I thought. As for my opinion on Evan, the drinks part of the evening served better. Khartoum was pretty busy but not too slammed to get a table. We sat on oversized chairs and drank long islands. I don’t know if he just needed a drink or two to loosen up or had needed Shawna’s reassurance or something, because he started being more fun. He even pulled up the sleeves on his sweater. He was flirting! He had touched me three times; once on the knee, once on the shoulder, and once on the ass but that was an accident, causing him to stammer and sweat, profusely apologizing. He was attractive and smart, if not somewhat of a goober, and I was having a good time but I couldn’t imagine the two of us as anything more than possible, occasional friends. And to be honest, I couldn’t stop thinking about the ten numbers that had made their way to the bottom of my purse.

We drove back to the bar, this time the Postal Service serving as our soundtrack. He gave me a nice safe hug and his phone number before driving away. My phone buzzed as we were saying goodbye and my heart leapt inside, wondering. Could Drew have finally sobered up or come to his senses? Maybe he didn’t even remember leaving that message.

It took forever for Evan to leave. When he did, I looked down, read the text. “Having fun?” – V. It was Camille’s cell phone. I smacked my forehead, giggling at all the collected stupidity the evening and its intentions contained.

I went inside and sat down on a familiar stool. My other favorite bartender was working. He had covered my shift so I could go on the date. “How’d it go?”

“Well, I’ve had quite a few drinks and I need one more, so you figure it out.”

He grinned at me, slid the bottle of Jim Beam down the bar. “When are you just gonna marry me already?”

“I’m not that drunk,” I said, pouring myself a shot. I took it down, let it rejuvenate me.

“Hey, have you seen um, Drew around here?”

“Oh yeah. He just left.”

I nodded, pensive. My mind began switching from blank to cluttered. Did he come in because he saw my car in the parking lot? Did he stay because I wasn’t there? I looked down at my phone. No missed calls, no text messages. I poured myself another drink. Opened the brown paper again, said the numbers in my mind. “Drag.”

You would think that there should be some unspoken rules to blind dating or dating off the Internet.

It’s kind of funny, it’s a classic story to hear guys talking about how girls lie about what they look like on blind dates. You know the story… the “She has a great personality” date! A guy gets set up with a girl off a pic 10 years old or 50 pounds ago and he’s pissed! (As he should be!) It happens all the time! Pictures are blurry or just plain flattering, then you meet in person and it’s like the evil twin that was hit with an ugly stick walks in the door. Guys are brutal when that happens to them. But nobody really ever talks about it when it’s the guy who was the one doing the lying!

Is it just me or does anybody else think that MAJOR birth defects should be disclosed prior to meeting? (That and probably smoking habits, although I blame myself for not remembering to ask my potential dates about that one.) It’s soooo unfair! I always make sure that my potential date recognizes that I am a size 26! Not that my weight is a birth defect but I do want to make sure he is OK with that and that he could be attracted to me before I show up. If anything, it makes sure I am not wasting his time or mine and lessons the chance of being rejected. Everybody has different ideas of what they find attractive. Why try and date somebody that I know from the get-go wouldn’t be attracted to me. Duh!!! It applies the same way in reverse with men. Why try dating a girl that wouldn’t be attracted to you? It’s better just to lay all your cards out on the table first!

So ya… My x-husband had a physical problem that had a major affect our lives together. He had a childhood disease that required major surgery on his hip twice. He couldn’t swing dace, he couldn’t run, he walked with a limp, we had to buy a single story house cause there was always the potential that stairs would be a challenge some day… I’m not that shallow, I loved him anyway. We dealt with the issue together.

I would like to believe that if I met somebody else that had some physical issue that I would be able to look past it, if the person was right for me that is… I do have some passions in life like swing dancing and walking on the beach. It would be impossible for me to be happy with somebody in a wheelchair but I don’t think that makes me shallow.

So anyway… I have had 2 Internet dates now that have showed up with some physical issues and I don’t think it was very fair of them to go into the date without telling me first!

The first guy had a paralyzed arm from, I believe, the elbow down. His hand looked misshapen sort of like a mannequin’s hand would look like. He never did talk about it. I can’t say he specifically tried to hide it from me but he didn’t exactly bring it up either. He was a nice guy but that issue would affect the swing dancing. It was his left hand and that’s the hand a lead uses to twirl the girl. I will not give up my dancing for another guy! There are tons of other things that not having use of both hands would affect too. What about sex? Anyway, he was also much more overweight that how he looked in his pics. At any rate, I was so upset about the major omissions of info that I really did not want to take the time to get to know him. Just to clarify, the arm thing was not my only issue… from my first impression of him; he was totally not my type. I invited him on a “safety date” (a date to a public event with lots of people) because I was sorta sure that he wouldn’t be anyway and I was right. He did however end up joining the group and I hear has made some friends and done some fun stuff. Like I said, he was a nice guy… I’m glad it worked out for him. He still shoulda told me!

The next date happened a couple of nights ago and didn’t work out nearly as well. This guy looked something like this: I googled sunken chest... Apparently it's an actual medical condition, the guy just wasn't really really skinny.

The problem however, was that it was a hot tub date! It took everything in my power to not stare! You know your gonna have to take your shirt off if your first date is sitting in a hot tub, why the hell would you not warn a girl? Seriously! But again, that wasn’t my major problem with him. He was boring, could not carry on a conversation past listening to me babble. I tried to ask him questions about his hobbies and his answers were vague and mostly one-liners. He smoked, didn’t have a car, was going to school, lived with family instead of on his own and yeah… for a 27 year old man he may as well of been 19 years old. Hell he coulda been, it’s not the first time a guy has lied to me about his age. Either way… NOT Interested!!!

So you ask… why do I keep going on these crazy dates? Because it’s entertaining of course! What else would I have to write about if I didn’t? LOL! More shopping lists maybe? :0)

As soon as my blind date arrived at the restaurant last night, I couldn't stop sneezing.

Maybe I'm allergic to him. 

More likely, I caught my nephews' cold.

A few weeks ago, I got an e-mail from my Aunt with the subject line, "Your Birthday Present." 

She told me that she had lunch with a friend who knew a great guy in his 40s and wanted to set him up with my 25-year-old cousin. My Aunt vetoed her daughter dating him -- but suggested me, her 30-something niece. This blind date, she said, was my birthday present.

I told her I'd prefer jewelry.

I talked to the guy on the phone. And we had a lot in common -- we both grew up in Tennessee and moved to DC from Texas.

He sounded friendly. He kept saying, "I just want to welcome you to the area." (Even though we moved here at the same time. I think I got here first.)

What does he look like? My friend Nina asked.

I have no idea, I told her.

Nina says that whenever she used to go on blind dates she would ask the guy to paint a mental picture for her. But that seemed kind of rude. So I went to the restaurant and waited until a guy with a comb over asked, Are you my date? 

He's a really nice, good guy.

Halfway through the evening, I went to the bathroom, scrolled through my phone and tried to think of someone I could set him up with. I told him he should meet my friend Nina -- a professional matchmaker. I think he'd be a good match for some of her clients.

He seems like a guy who should be married -- he's someone you'd meet at an office party as a coworkers really pleasant husband. He tried to get married four years ago -- it was New Years Eve in New York. He thought it would be like An Affair to Remember when he proposed to his girlfriend. They had been together four years. Right after he asked her to spend his life with him, she told him she had been cheating on him the last four months.

That's a sad story.He told me a lot of sad stories. Like his 80-year-old aunt who has never been married -- one Passover seder his aunt had too many glasses of wine and told everyone that she was going to die a virgin.

I said that isn't necessarily true -- my grandma had a lot of boyfriends in her nursing home. 

My cousin and I found it upsetting that grandma was getting laid more than we were. (The nurses were always separating grandma and her boyfriends -- but my mother told the nurses to leave Grandma alone. "I'm not worried about her getting pregnant," mom said. "And if she gets an STD at this point -- so what?")