Monday, August 19, 2013

Why guys don't have cats. No, it's true, they don't.*

If you're one of the five people who follow me on Twitter, this is going to be a bit redundant, but going by the comments on the last post asking how the date went I think it's safe to say this will be new material for most of you. So how did the date go? Well let's recap...

Aside from all that (all that being him arriving 25 minutes late; being unable to navigate the two blocks from the metro to the bar without the aid of his apparently non-functioning GPS; not paying or offering to pay for my drinks; being significantly less attractive than his photo suggested; not ordering any food, leaving me gnawing on my fist in hunger), let's see, what else was there? We ended up discussing animals for quite a while (really reaching for conversational topics, there), and I mentioned that I have been volunteering at the local Humane Society. He immediately jumped to the over-population of pit bulls in the shelters here, a true enough story, and surprise surprise, he had nothing to good to say about them, aside from the usual knee-jerk stereotypes: "Well, you just never know with those dogs;" "Well, they were bred for fighting, you know..." Having already made several pretty pitty friends at the shelter this went over not-so-well with me, though rather than get into it, I hid my displeasure behind a conversational shift.

He had mentioned wanting to foster dogs (though not pit bulls, obviously), but not having the time and space to do it. "Well," I suggested, "you could foster cats." A strange look passed over his face. "Guys don't have cats," he said quickly, as if I had just suggested he might try peeing sitting down. "Some guys do," I replied. "No," he said. "I'm pretty sure that in the world, there are guys who have cats. Yes." "Well, no one I know," he replied, the same, slightly horrified look on his face suggesting he still wasn't sure if I was pulling one over on him.

After all this, he pulled the yawn-stretch, "Well, I have an early meeting tomorrow..." Yes, he said this. But only because he beat me to it. Guys, it might be time to create a new label for these posts, because dating is no longer fun or funny, and hasn't been for quite some time.

Ba dum bum.         

*This is not true.

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Why I'm too old for this shit

I'm supposed to go on a date tonight. The first in something like a year and a half, for those keeping track. Yes, it has been a long (my longest) dating hiatus. (I tell myself it is self-imposed, but, really?) So, this date. This is how I feel about it:

Can you just feel the excitement dripping off me? The anticipation? The glee? No? You are correct. I feel none of those things. Now I just have to figure out how to make this (above) translate into this (below):

Except, I'm a terrible actress. And it's going to look more like this:

I can call in sick to my date, right? I'm not ready for this. Oh, help.