Bottom line is I need a date. The closest thing I have gotten to a date is this guy who approached me a couple of weeks ago, a longshoreman. All I was trying to was pick up my lunch at the local card club. (Yes, there is a card club within walking distance of my job. Scary, huh? Don't let me start about the rooming house next to my job.) So there I am paying for my lunch when this guy approaches and asks how tall I am. So original. I either get, "How tall are you? I like tall women," or "Are you a model?" or "What is your ethnic background?" The last one is usually after hearing me speak. Stupid fools that men are. Ummmm. Not that I hate men. They just sometimes lack originality. I'd better stop now before I dig myself into a hole of "man-bashing."
So I still have the napkin with his phone number. One coworker says that I should call him and tell him to meet me at the card club for lunch -- his treat. Another of my coworkers, who was with me at the time, keeps telling me to call the guy because he was cute. She is young. That age about which I remember one of the most important things about a guy was how he looked. I've matured and want more than looks. Unless the guy is really rich and really dumb. As in he will listen to me when I say, "Honey, don't worry about those numbers. Just let me handle the finances." Don't you love numbered accounts? You know. The ones that don't disclose a name. Those ones found in Switzerland and certain Caribbean nations. Not that I have thought of these things in depth. (Did I mention that my degree is in economics and many of my earlier jobs were in accounting? Not that these poor suckers -- ummm guys -- need to know that.)
Even worse is that my mother who tried to convince me that looks are unimportant, has tried to pimp me out over the years. Growing up it was, "You know it is just as easy to love a rich man as a poor one." Now it's, "What's the use of having an attractive daughter if the family cannot benefit [financially] in some way?" I thought the concept of dowry had bitten the dust. Oh, and now my father makes "jokes" about arranged marriages. My mother's worst fear? My stepbrother, who lives near me, is not that outgoing. My stepmother is always trying to get me to invite him to stuff. Before you have flashes of some Woody Allen-like scenario, our parents married when we were adults. (Hmmm. I seem to remember my mother trying to tout a similar scenario. "Meet a nice guy who has a single father for me.") So my mother fears that my stepmother might be trying to set me up with her son. No way in hell! This may have been a glimmer in the back of my mind for my other stepbrother because he was one of the finest guys in the neighborhood. (Yes, my stepmother lived in the same neighborhood that my mom and I did.) But I'm not trying for the Corpse Husband as he was killed about 15 years ago.
Where does that leave me? Online dating? Puh! Hanging at the pub? Nope. Especially since they have more attitude than I do at that place. I mean. Hello. I am a princess, at the least. Worship me properly.
I have spent time thinking about Emerald and Jade and her sisters. Oh, and let's not forget Kate. Ummm. They all met their mates through friends. You would think that they would recognize this and try to help a sister out. But no. They are oblivious. Even after I have dropped subtle hints. Like, "So. Does your husband have any really nice, single friends?" Then again, maybe they don't.
It's not like I need a man. I just want companionship and finding single female friends has been harder than finding a man. I had one. Her name is Grasshopper but she recently found love and has all but disappeared from my life. Because I am getting tired of talking to the cats. Walking in at the end of the day and kicking off my shoes and then playing a round of "Smell my feet" with Natasha has started to lose its appeal. A few more months of this and I will definitely be "crazy cat lady." That means I will be picking up a few more feline companions. Screw what Boris and Natasha think about the scheme.
I need to find some sort of balance soon -- having stuff in my life other than work -- because I know where this is heading. Soon I'll be depressed. And that means that I will be truly out of control.
Believe me. If you thought that I have been wild over the last few months, well you've seen nothing yet. My motto 20 years ago? "You're not really living unless you're living on the edge." Back then folks used to ask me what that meant. I told them, "You know that feeling you get when you're standing on the edge of a cliff? I mean really standing on the edge. Your heels are on solid ground but your toes are over the edge? That's what I mean." There's an adrenaline rush that comes from living "dangerously." I did it for many years and now I keep looking for a similar rush since I have given up the things -- like hitching rides -- that gave me the rush. But don't tell my mother about this. I just think of it as a quest for a thrill.
Hmmm. I am going shopping with Jade on Friday. Maybe I should hit the men's department. Because they sell men there, right?
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