Today I received an email in my inbox for "TRANNY BASH 2009". The disturbing news is that I'm thinking about attending. The alarming news is that I may just fit in.
My profile browsing on Match.com is coming to a halt. Not because I'm taking a break, but because I've dated everyone. However, there are the men I've emailed or winked at and received no response. I should probably send out a secondary form of contact so that they "block" me or "report a concern".
I won't fret. I can always join catholicsingles.com, jadedate.com or positivesingles.com. Now I'm not Catholic, Jewish or roaming the streets with an STD, but I must tap-out every possible resource. Granted, I may get caught in some lies if I join any of these sights, but since when have I considered lying an abnormal part of my daily routine? I believe that the foundation of a solid relationship should be built on lies. Finding out the truth much later in the relationship can make you feel like you're in the honeymoon stage all over again.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
SINGLISM 2
After a gallon of Ketel One pumping through my veins, I'm usually limited to the following four options;
A. cry
B. eat
C. make-out
D. blackout.
This may sound like the makeup of someone with bipolar disorder, but I call it my late twenties. I'm hoping to grow out of it or get medicated. In any case, I always prefer an option C/D combo, because these A/B Saturday nights are getting me fat and nowhere fast. There's nothing sexy to be said about eating Tostito Pizza Rolls with a snotty nose. As of tomorrow, I'm taking on the Kate Moss diet - cocaine and champagne.
Thursday night kicked off a solid weekend of bad dates. Thursday was with the most boring and serious man on the planet. After 20 minutes, I stopped paying attention to his bland chatter and focused on seeing how long I could stare at him without blinking. I hope I freaked him out. Friday was with an old dating fling who has matured into a real a**hole who sells men's suits. I wrapped up Saturday by meeting out a guy I had met through a mutual friend. As a funeral director and the world's sloppiest kisser, I hope my next meeting with him involves me in the coffin heading off for my final dirt nap.
As Sunday is coming to a close I need to reacquaint myself with the drug dealers of my college years. If I'm going to make this Kate Moss diet a reality, I need to get names, numbers and a bottle of Korbel Brut.
A. cry
B. eat
C. make-out
D. blackout.
This may sound like the makeup of someone with bipolar disorder, but I call it my late twenties. I'm hoping to grow out of it or get medicated. In any case, I always prefer an option C/D combo, because these A/B Saturday nights are getting me fat and nowhere fast. There's nothing sexy to be said about eating Tostito Pizza Rolls with a snotty nose. As of tomorrow, I'm taking on the Kate Moss diet - cocaine and champagne.
Thursday night kicked off a solid weekend of bad dates. Thursday was with the most boring and serious man on the planet. After 20 minutes, I stopped paying attention to his bland chatter and focused on seeing how long I could stare at him without blinking. I hope I freaked him out. Friday was with an old dating fling who has matured into a real a**hole who sells men's suits. I wrapped up Saturday by meeting out a guy I had met through a mutual friend. As a funeral director and the world's sloppiest kisser, I hope my next meeting with him involves me in the coffin heading off for my final dirt nap.
As Sunday is coming to a close I need to reacquaint myself with the drug dealers of my college years. If I'm going to make this Kate Moss diet a reality, I need to get names, numbers and a bottle of Korbel Brut.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
SINGLISM
Dear Loyal Blog Follower-
This Blog is workings of a book in progress. This blog is to represent the humor in dating. So please laugh, while I cry!
SINGLISM - I made that word up! But it's the sad sorry life I lead. At 29 years old, I'm a walking STD...Single, Traumatized and Desperate. A dangerous combination for which I've found no cure.
Have you ever had thoughts of drawing a luke –warm bath, submerging your body and dangling an 1800 watt hairdryer from the shower rod? It’s been a common thought as my dating career is really taking off. And by dating career, I mean lack of being able to maintain a boyfriend for more than two months. And by taking off, I mean my endless subscription to Match.com. It’s irritating that they only offer a six month membership, as I’d be willing to throw down for a five year contract. Could it be that no one likes the real me? Surely not! I’m intelligent, attractive, wildly sarcastic and funny, and it’s been said that I’m a “walking TV show”. But beneath the bravado it’s true that I’m sensitive and full of drama and tears. Most of which is provoked by my one true love, Ketel One.
However, it's Saturday night, which means date night. Another chance, another hope of finding the man who will spend the rest of his life with me. But more of a probability that I or Ketel One will do something to F it up. But let's think positive. It's date number five with Mr. Canada. Of course things are going great because he's about to be deported. He needs to find a job now that he's received his MBA and the INS isn't going to wait forever. Let me retract. By saying that things are going great, I mean that he's already seen me have an emotional meltdown and he's still calling. As far as I'm concerned he's a keeper. But then again, anyone with a pulse is a keeper, yet I can't seem to do just that....keep them.
I know I don't need to worry because "Men are like buses, if one doesn't work out, there's another one right behind it." I hate that phrase. Men are NOT like buses, because I've never been told I can't ride the bus anymore...at least in a sober state of mind. Speaking of which, where is Ketel?
So wish me luck. It's time for a shower and to pick out the perfect outfit that will look flattering on the floor of my bedroom!
This Blog is workings of a book in progress. This blog is to represent the humor in dating. So please laugh, while I cry!
SINGLISM - I made that word up! But it's the sad sorry life I lead. At 29 years old, I'm a walking STD...Single, Traumatized and Desperate. A dangerous combination for which I've found no cure.
Have you ever had thoughts of drawing a luke –warm bath, submerging your body and dangling an 1800 watt hairdryer from the shower rod? It’s been a common thought as my dating career is really taking off. And by dating career, I mean lack of being able to maintain a boyfriend for more than two months. And by taking off, I mean my endless subscription to Match.com. It’s irritating that they only offer a six month membership, as I’d be willing to throw down for a five year contract. Could it be that no one likes the real me? Surely not! I’m intelligent, attractive, wildly sarcastic and funny, and it’s been said that I’m a “walking TV show”. But beneath the bravado it’s true that I’m sensitive and full of drama and tears. Most of which is provoked by my one true love, Ketel One.
However, it's Saturday night, which means date night. Another chance, another hope of finding the man who will spend the rest of his life with me. But more of a probability that I or Ketel One will do something to F it up. But let's think positive. It's date number five with Mr. Canada. Of course things are going great because he's about to be deported. He needs to find a job now that he's received his MBA and the INS isn't going to wait forever. Let me retract. By saying that things are going great, I mean that he's already seen me have an emotional meltdown and he's still calling. As far as I'm concerned he's a keeper. But then again, anyone with a pulse is a keeper, yet I can't seem to do just that....keep them.
I know I don't need to worry because "Men are like buses, if one doesn't work out, there's another one right behind it." I hate that phrase. Men are NOT like buses, because I've never been told I can't ride the bus anymore...at least in a sober state of mind. Speaking of which, where is Ketel?
So wish me luck. It's time for a shower and to pick out the perfect outfit that will look flattering on the floor of my bedroom!
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