If I had a plot of land for every time someone told me they couldn’t believe I’m single, I’d own the world.  And if you haven’t looked recently, the world is big.  I mean, REALLY big.

Anyway, so all these guys – cute, not cute, local, international, short, tall – from every walk of life, have commented on how they don’t understand why I’m single.  Word up.  I don’t get it either.

 

 

I mean, I’m definitely a catch.  I’m cute, I’m nice, I’m not asking for money, I don’t have lots of kids and baby daddies running around, I’m faithful, I’m employed (for now), I have a house, I have a great family, I don’t snore, I enjoy the freak nasty, I vote, I do volunteer work, I shower daily (and even shave my legs), I don’t throw things when I get mad and I would rather watch sports than Lifetime.

 

 

I know how to balance a checkbook, cook a meal for 25 people, file my own taxes, create a program to build muscle, tie a cherry stem with my tongue, plan a cheap vacation and kiss it to make it better.

 

 

And yet, I’m still single.  But I’m picky, you say?  I really don’t think I’m being that picky.  I’m simply asking for someone who can support themselves, has ambition, is halfway decent looking, is taller than me, can enjoy life without being high 24/7, isn’t gay or married, and wants to be in a relationship.  Really?  Is that asking for a lot?

 

 

So when people ask me why I’m single, I’ll usually say I just haven’t met the right person.  Then I just hope they don’t ask WHY I haven’t met the right person.  Just like Britney Spears’ continued popularity, I have no answer – it just baffles me too!

I have a new prospect for Date #3.  Well, I’ve had several.  There was the guy who finally admitted that he’s 5’6”.  And then told me that, because I’ve worked in sports, he knows that I’ve probably had to give some extra “favors” to get those jobs.  EXCUSE ME?  Classic case of short man’s syndrome.  I’ll pass.  Then of course, there’s the guy who tells me that his favorite part of his job is smiling at beautiful women.  No, he’s not a stripper.  He’s a utilities guy…apparently beautiful women are drawn to electrical lines.

 

 

 

Anyway, there’s a new guy.  He was an architect major until he decided to go into interior design.  He’s also an artist on the side, working with all sorts of different mediums and styles.  And he’s halfway decent looking – in spite of the striped sweater he’s sporting in his picture.  So of course, my first thought is that he has to be gay.  Come on.  Posing in a Sears studio wearing a sweater?  Interior designer?  Have you ever met a straight guy who knows the difference between arcade white and ivory lace?  I’m a girl and I have no clue.

 

 

 

So going into this, I’m a little suspicious already.  He called me last night and left a message…he even SOUNDS gay.  You know Mr. J on Top Model?  That’s what he sounds like.  When he left a message, he used his full name (didn’t want to leave the middle initial too?)  And he mentioned how much we seem to have in common (we both like men and have a shoe fetish?)  He says he’s a former athlete – track, baseball and wresting.  (You mean, rubbing bodies with sweaty men?)  And he also loves to cook.  Not that there’s anything wrong with a guy who can cook, but let’s just say I hope he knows how to grill as well.

 

 

 

Worse case, I suppose it’s nice to have a gay friend.  We can spend an evening doing our nails, indulging in drinks with umbrellas and bitching about why men are such dirt bags.  Good times!

Wow.  This weekend was definitely an experience.  This Shift class was incredibly hard, but also incredibly effective in helping me realize that I do have some issues from the past that I haven’t dealt with.  And maybe that’s why I have an unfulfilling career and am attracting horrible dating prospects.

 

They say that when your heart opens, your eyes leak.  My eyes leaked several times while I was in class, and several times afterwards.  And even once or twice on my 7.5 mile training walk/run yesterday. 

 

And so it made sense that on Saturday night, I was emotionally exhausted.  I’d had a headache for 24 hours straight and the only place I wanted to be was in my bed.  I fell asleep just before 7:30pm.  And I woke up just before 7:30am.  I hadn’t even gotten up to pee or anything!  But I felt ready to LIVE on Sunday.

 

I’ll spare you the details of what I learned, but I will tell you about one exercise we did.  I had to write my obituary.  I panicked a little because I thought, wait, I have to figure out what all I want to accomplish in my life RIGHT NOW??  But the more I thought about it, the more I realized those things don’t matter.  It doesn’t matter to me WHAT I do while I’m here.  It doesn’t even matter to me what roles I play.  The thing that matters most to me is HOW I lived.  So my obituary didn’t talk about my job, or being a wife or mother, it talked about my zest for life.  How I loved, laughed, cried and grew.  How I appreciated the miracles in life happening around me.  And most importantly how I never took anything for granted – trusting that I was here for a reason – and no minor setbacks would make me appreciate this life any less.

 

I received more love this weekend from strangers than I ever could’ve imagined.  They hugged me and didn’t let me go.  They told me I am loved. They reminded me that regardless of what I was told as a child, I am deserving and good enough to receive incredible gifts from this world.  And to receive them, all I have to do is open my heart.  Although I am hoping that with an open heart, my eyes will stop leaking as much…or else I may just have to invest in some really good waterproof mascara.

I got winked at online by an 81-year old man.  He has his own plane.  You’re jealous.  Admit it. 

I’m hot stuff, I tell you.  Hot stuff, indeed.

Tomorrow begins a change in me.  A shift.  I’m taking a class to learn how to change, forgive, heal, and attract the life I want.  Here’s the description:

 

See your power that is hidden within.  Listen to your soul speak to you to follow your heart.  Return the pieces of your heart that you have given away.  Journey into your authentic self.  Find your beliefs and what resonates with your soul.  Understand your fears from the past and then take steps to move your life into new directions.

 

I know people who have taken this seminar and they say it’s very difficult, but it’s worth it.  It’s clearing out the cobwebs to reveal something bright, shiny and new.  You may not even recognize me on Monday with all my bright, shiny newness!! 

 

And believe me – I need an energy shift.  The men I’m attracting right now are…um, interesting? 

 

1.  44yr old, divorced with 4 kids. 

2.  A hot guy who has invited me to meet him and his girlfriend.  They have an open relationship…and as long as he’s with her FIRST within the same day, he can be with whoever he wants.  Leftovers?  I’ll pass.  “The D…was trashed…if sex was record sales, he’d be double plat…”  (My Lil’ Kim tribute.)

3.  A 60yr old guy.  60.  Via.gra much?  Blech.

 

Those are the top three front runners for Date #3.  Wanna start a pool to see who wins?!?!  Ha ha!

 

Anyway, as you can see…I need to be shifted.  Updates to come on Monday.

Had Date #2 last night.  Oh.  My.  God.  This really is the stuff that horrible nightmares and unfunny jokes are made of.

 

He comes to pick me up 45 minutes late…says he got lost.  Uh huh.  I gave him directions and he mapped it…and it’s not that hard to fine.  He takes me out to his car, which looks remotely like this, but not as luxurious:

 

I ask where the seatbelts are, meanwhile praying for my life.  Oh yeah, it’s got a lap belt, but it’s broken.  I continue praying.  Then I notice that his breath stanks like he’s a smoker.  Yes, stanks.  Which is so much more severe than stinks.  He says he quit smoking 3 months ago…if that’s the case, he needs to invest in a better toothbrush…and get rid of the lighter that’s on the front seat of the car. 

 

ANYWAY – we finally get to the restaurant. (THANK YOU, GOD!)  Now, when you go out with someone at 6pm (or 7pm if they’re late), is it safe to assume that you’re going to grab some dinner?  We order drinks and the waitress asks if we want to order something to eat.  He says no, we’re okay.  Oh, WE are okay?  Maybe you didn’t hear my stomach growling over the noise of your death trap car.

 

The conversation was fine…I mean, we spent 5 hours on the phone Friday night, so something must’ve been okay.  Although I did have to ask him to repeat himself a few times because I just couldn’t hear him talking over the voice in my head that was screaming, “IS THIS OVER YET?!!?”

 

So here’s where the fun starts.  You thought all of the above was the good part?  No, there’s more!  The bill comes.  He gives the waitress his credit card.  Of course, it was denied.  Doesn’t that only happen in the movies??

 

He launches some story about how he paid the bill Friday and asked when it would post…they say 2 hours, but it probably didn’t happen, etc, etc.  Whatever.  He doesn’t have another card, so I ask if he wants me to get it.  He couldn’t have just said something like, “Sure – if you want to get it this time, I’ll buy dinner next time.”  Nope.  Couldn’t be all smooth like that.

 

Instead he says, “Could I just borrow like $4 until Monday and then I promise I’ll pay you back.”  It’s a first date and you want to BORROW money already?!?!?  Seriously????  I looked around for Ashton Kut.cher because I swear I was being Punked.  I wasn’t.  This nightmare was all real and it was all mine.  I kept hoping Michael Myers would jump out and put me out of my misery.  Yeah, no luck there either.

 

I throw down $5.  And then I’m thinking, wait…we had 2 drinks.  That couldn’t have been more than $10 – and you don’t have enough to pay for that??  Good thing I didn’t order dinner!!!

 

Of course, he’d like to see me again because he’s a total loser and apparently, I’m a total loser magnet.  Yes, I do have mad skillz.  Thank you for asking.  Mad skillz, I tell you.

 

NEXT!

Date #2 didn’t happen.  He called at 4pm to say that he was having car trouble and need to fix something or other and could we reschedule.  Sure, whatever.  We’re tentative for Sunday, but I’m not holding my breath!!

 

So instead, I got to sit at home flipping back and forth from Top Model to Project Runway to the debates.  Now, let me just make a comment on the debates…I don’t want this to be a political blog, but I have to make a few comments.

 

1.     John McCain referred to “Fannie and Freddie Mae.”  Um, you dumb sh*t.  You mean, Fannie MAE and Freddie MAC?  Anyone who’s read a paper recently knows that.  So either he’s old and senile (vote for Obama) or just plain retarded (Obama is where it’s at.)  My bad, maybe they just don’t have newspapers or internet at the retirement home.  (Obama rocks.)

2.     Did you know McCain can’t lift his arms over his head?  Seriously, I want to be able to high-five my president!  (Obama, baby!!)

3.     Obama really is a funny guy.  I got mail from him last night (it wasn’t even addressed to Resident, but rather to me specifically – and they even spelled my name right!)  It was a letter that said something like “vote for me, campaign contributions please, etc, etc”, but there was something more important in it.  A sticker.  Love stickers!!  And this one just cracked me up:

 

Good one, Obama!!  HIGH FIVE! 

My dates are confused.  The previously mentioned Date #2 actually became Date #1 and I’m seeing the previously mentioned Date #1 tonight as Date #2.  Do you see why I’m much more programmed for monogamy?

 

Anyway, so Date #2 (Iraqi vet, late night phone talker) and I will be meeting tonight.  There’s a chance we may catch the Nuggets game, which is always a good time.  And plus that saves the awkwardness of a first date where you have to stare at each other, looking for a new topic, all the while picking spinach out of your teeth. 

“You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman and I’d love to hang out with you again.”  That’s the text I got after lunch with Date #1.  I knew that was going to happen based on the way he was looking at me at lunch.

 

What I wanted to text back was:  “You’re just aiiight.  Shorter than me and much more petite than you look in your pictures.  Petite on a boy is bad.  And honestly, I don’t care if we go out again.”

 

But apparently, there’s this 3-date rule thing where if you’re not initially into someone, you should give them 3 dates before really deciding.  Of course, assuming they don’t completely repulse you on the first date.  I didn’t completely shoot him down quite yet, but again, would be perfectly fine if we both went our separate ways.

 

However, I now understand why it’s been 6 months since my last date.  Dating is depressing.  It’s depressing to make all these attempts and STILL not be excited to see any of them again!  What’s even more depressing is knowing it’s guaranteed you’ll be sitting home alone if you DON’T go! 

 

Where’s the Ben & Jerry’s?  I need some therapy.

In high school, I was head over heels in love with Chris (or as best I could be at age 15.)  Chris moved to a different part of town on Valentine’s Day of my sophomore year – ouch.  He and I still kept in touch and we were still friends…he would call me late at night and we would stay on the phone for hours.  We’d listen to Midnight Love on AM radio together and sometimes one of us would fall asleep.  Oh, those were the good old days! 

 

I thought about Chris on Saturday night.  I stayed on the phone for 6 hours, having a first phone conversation with some random guy I met online.  We got to know each other…and neither one of us fell asleep!  Good times.  So date #1 of my goal for five first dates by the end of the year is going to be with him.  (Disclaimer:  Should one of these five dates be a success, all bets are off.)

 

Oh, but hold on.  Date #2 will be this week as well!  Yes, I’m a magnet, what can I say?  Men dig me.  Date #2 is also via online…we talked a while back, but never actually got together – and I don’t really know what happened to make us lose touch.  Anyway, I’m living in the present and we don’t work that far from each other, so we’re going to meet for lunch on Wednesday. 

 

Just so you all can start your betting pools, here’s the low-down on both:

 

Date #1:  Age 34; Divorced with 2 kids (ages 8 and 6); Iraqi vet; Most likely returning to Iraq as a civilian in January, so I don’t know that I’d let myself get that close to him; 6’3”, 250lbs. of yummy goodness; obviously after spending 6 hours on the phone, there’s chemistry.

 

Date #2:  Age 34; Divorced with 2 kids (ages 10 and 13); Don’t really know that much about him other than he would prefer texting to talking on the phone; 5’8” (he says that’s in real life, not on the roster.  Either way with heels, I’m taller than him.)

 

Obviously neither are ideal.  But in your 30’s, you’d never have a date if you held out for Mr. Perfect.  It’s just not realistic.  So here we go – kids, please fasten your seatbelts, make sure your tray tables are in the upright position and hold on for this wild ride.