Okay. I confess. I couldn’t stay off of the dating sites for very long. I’m ridiculously codependent and seeking a relationship for that elusive adrenalin rush I mistake for love. I know you can’t force relationships, but I’m going to die trying.
It’s a numbers game, I told myself. Find enough deadbeat guys, and there’s bound to be a gem in the rough waiting to be discovered among them. Although, in New Jersey, the ratio of deadbeats to diamonds may rise significantly.
I had a lunch date last week. Nice, I thought. No wasting precious childless weekend time to see if we click. I walked in, took one look, and knew we didn’t. I think the feeling was mutual. Ugh.
I have 3 more potential dates this week. I say potential, because I’ve learned that when a NJ guy asks me out for a particular day, in no way am I to assume it will actually happen. Unless a specific time and a specific place are discussed, all bets are off. He’s probably lining up dozens of us until he chooses the one he likes best and then goes for the kill. In that case, I think it’s best if I’m not selected.
We have the following contestants:
- New Yorker (a NJ native who doesn’t think he has an accent but sounds like a freakin’ Soprano character)
- The Photographer (who appears to be freakishly genuine and kind and whose smile thrills me)
- Sexy Voice (who has been my number one choice in this game, but whose smooth talking makes me wonder if I’m merely playing a part in one of his stage performances – I’ve become so jaded)
Tomorrow I’m supposed to meet the New Yorker. Meeting details will be discussed then, unless he finds someone more interesting tonight. I’m thinking this one has a high probability of happening. We’ll see if I can get past the accent.
I’ll let you know…