I’ll never kiss and tell … (you to fuck off)

Apparently this blog is becoming a dating blog.

Who knew it would be this difficult? Raise your hand so I can slap you for not warning me.

The trick of online dating is patience. Not my strongest skill set. I have slogged through for a few weeks now. As my friend KH will attest, I swear to delete my profile every few days. And then I’ll get a bite and string it on a little longer.

I’ve had some really crummy dates, including one guy who was the real-life version of Flanders from the Simpsons. He was soooo boring. I knew we were doomed when he showed me the pic of his newest toy train.

Moving on.

Recently had a lovely exchange, followed by a date with someone I really liked. There was chemistry. Laughing. Lingering. Smooching.

Wait …. what? Oh yes. I smooched him. It was the bingo round, people, and I thought I had a coverall.

Then I never heard from him again.

WTF!

I’m usually pretty good at reading people, especially when they are into me. I like me, you obviously like me, this could go someplace nice.

After our date, I e-mailed to share my enjoyment of the evening. Crickets.

Oh hell no.

For a second, I understand why women can go nuts. I know enough about him to make him uncomfortable.

The difference between myself and the really crazy bitches, is that I think about it, but that’s as far as it goes.

But fellas, let me say, this is WHY we are crazy. And you have no one but yourself to blame.

Meeting my next potential stalking subject for lunch today. I’ll let you know how it goes.