Intervention

My friend, Immigrantwife, has staged an intervention. I was embarrassed and teary at the end. But I could use a good cry. My acupuncturist told me it would be good for me.

My half-assed attempts at making new friends are 'trying too hard'. Because only when your single is there such a thing as 'trying too hard'. You can never try too hard in sports, or in parenting, or at work. Name one thing where that's good advice, other than being lonely.

This is not about finding a man, I'd love a female in the same situation to hang with. One that isn't going to swoop in and try to date everyone I make eye contact with and/or spread the word that I'm a whore. If only TXGAMBIT didn't live in Texas, or Melissa, or Sizzle.

Doing anything that involves Craig's list is apparently stupid and naive, and as romantic as it sounds that posting something on 'Missed Connections' might actually start a conversation with that cute guy I saw is even stupider. Welcome to the real world of sleazy people and dumbasses. Apparently I am their inadvertent queen. I need to take a shower to wash off that slime. Because I believed. I walked right into their trap and missed a whole conversation of subtext that I was involved in, but I had no freakin' clue. I couldn't possibly be that stupid. And yet, here I am.

I learned that even the nice man who was sitting at the table next to you with his lovely wife, who messaged you to say they saw both of you and hoped it worked out....he sent you his weight, height, general physical description and stats. There are no nice people who respond to such things. Airheads like me thought he was genuine, and held onto his e-mail so I could chirpily report that he responded but it wasn't a match....dumbass. You didn't need a physical description for that. Like Immigrantwife said, he's lookin' for a little on the side.

So, I'm backing away from the mouse....slowly Immigrantwife, I'm stepping away. I'm going to down a shot of cynicism with my glass of bitterness and anger today. Tomorrow, we'll return to our regularly scheduled Suzie Sunshineyness. I hear you loud and clear-- patience and blazing, serene, hope.

Tomorrow, we can intervene on Buck Nekkid and get him to stop shopping for babies online. Because it isn't all about me. His beloved dog died this weekend. That's a whole different kind of pain.