Here’s the thing: I like being single. I like having a boyfriend. I want to have both. I want to have a boyfriend chiefly because I likes mens, but to be frank I like the companionship. BUT, I don’t want to see him all the time-only when I want to see him. This makes for some real dating challenges.
Most men think that what I am talking about is something known as ‘friends with benefits’. I usually don’t want to make out with my friends. I want to make out with my boyfriend, however. Tricky, huh?
So, what to do?
Join an online dating scam…er site? Too expensive and too…expensive…plus, I don’t have the patience to fill out those online survey things. I also have a sneaking suspicion that people lie on those things, so you’re probably getting a guy who is good on paper, but when you take him out into the daylight he immolates like Count Dracula at sunrise.I could be wrong. Not willing to take the chance. Is it wrong that I ate half a brownie that could possibly be over a week old that I just found in the fridge? I mean, I made it…but it was all the way in the back. And I don’t remember when I made them. Tasted like the fridge…you know, like cold plastic and chocolate. I needed to eat something because my milk was going to go bad.
You wonder why I’m single? It’s no wonder.
Been checking out craigslist and I think I’m going to blog about that for a bit. Okay, so I’ve been using craigslist for a good while now. You know, get free stuff, barter (got a gym membership!) and for furniture so I thought I would try the dating thing.
This is good. Get a cup of coffee. I’ll wait.
Okay, you ready?
So, I place an ad that is funny, honest, irreverent and just a wee bit provocative (I mention my rack) and my inbox was swamped with emails. Now, I was excited as all get out until I started reading them. Some of them had photos attached. I had made it clear that I didn’t want a photo exchange until we’d established an email rapport. Men are not very observant when they are letting their reproductive organs do the thinking. I should have remembered that before I opened the first of 37 penis photos. Yep, that’s right.
Men. Men who have the wherewithal to operate a computer and translate their simian-like grunts into English sent me photos of their private parts. Some of the text had snappy writing such as ‘You like? Give me a call’. I’m overwhelmed, but as I told one of my friends, I think it will make a nice coffee table book.
“Penises on Parade” is the tentative title.
After weeding the crazies out, I had narrowed the field down to 2 men. Both men had a complimentary writing style and we shared the same kind of humor.The emails went along smoothly and then the dreaded photo exchange…Well, one of the men lied about his age. Either that or he is prematurely gray and wrinkled and resembling an older model Jackie Mason. He was out. I’m shallow, but I am honest.
The second man passed muster, but by the skin of his teeth. And his teeth were fighting for room, let me tell you. I settled on him. That was my tragic mistake.
Never settle. Never. Move on if you KNOW that he’s not your type. Don’t be swayed by witty comebacks and creative language usage. It will be your undoing. It certainly was mine.
Are you on the edge of your seat? So was I until he showed his true cowardly colors.He had no intention of meeting me. In a way I’m relieved. Those teeth. Yikes. Not Shane McGowan teeth, but they were something. And that something said , ‘In dire need of an othodontist’. No kidding. No dating. No free dinner. Bah.
BUT, I think I’ll place another ad. Can’t wait to see what will happen. It’s like I’m in my own reality show. Of course the viewership is quite different and there aren’t any commercials, but…okay. I gotcha.
No worries, I’m optimistic. You’ll be the first to know when I hit the dating bonanza.