dating: the good, the bad and the ugly

it’s grueling, it’s a pain in my arse but it’s inevitable…it’s dating: the good the bad and definitely the ugly.
i say after each horrible date i’ll never do it again…that i hate it enough to banish it but alas there’s some tormenting reset button in each of us that forces us to keep trying over and over again until we get it right (gosh darn it)
i have this email bud i go back and forth with at work. he complains about his whack dating, i complain about mine…we never tire of hearing each others’ stories. this week mr email tells me he’s been on for a couple of weeks, hates it and wants to know if i want to use his remaining subscription to check out the men folk out here. i of course had to do it…curiosity always wins i’m afraid and now i am an internet stalker. it’s so much fun…i swear you can snoop and be picky and totally voyeuristic without the fear of some weirdo asking you out for peeping at him. too short, too pretty, too conceited, too this, not enough of this, oh you smoke? NEXT! it’s great! ha!
so yeah…my adventures in dating may have gotten a bit easy…even if i don’t get any dates out of this silly thing it’s grand entertainment. shoot i loved seeing the girls that were talking to mr email before we switched over…they’re probably wondering why all of a sudden the hot guy with smarts is the mixed chick who farts ; ) it rhymed but i do…occasionally. lol!
Anyways…dating gives me so much great material to work with…shoot I don’t even have to talk about the actual dates and can STILL write for days…sigh. so much fun. I get these updates and low and behold a girl I met at the film festival has a small bit where they show her pictures and discuss her horrible dating adventure. I thought I’d share the pain lol....enjoy.
“ A guy who worked at a drugstore photo department called me to pick up my pictures and asked me out. Thinking it was the fly dude I remembered when I dropped them off, I agreed to go out with him. Sadly, I was mistaken. When I went to pick him up—yes, he had no car—I realized it was another guy who was, well, less gifted in the looks department. I told him I thought he was someone else, but we still went to the movies, and he didn’t even buy the popcorn. I drove him home after the movie and that was the end of that. Or so I thought. He used my number one more time after that. But this time it was a collect call from jail! Needless to say, I didn’t accept the charges.”

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