If you read this post, you know that I’ve recently entered the world of being single (if you haven’t read it here’s how it ends: “Yayyy me”).
And if you read this post you know that my global solution to getting over a break-up is distractions (here’s how that post ends: “No thanks to Yugoslavia”).
Note from the hamster: The fact that both those posts end with a lot of “Y”s possibly represents the writer’s unrecognized desire to be of the Y generation. Or it’s just a coincidence. I’ll think more on that tonight when said writer is trying to fall asleep. *MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA*
Apart from going to the gym, meeting friends for a drink and buying new shoes, part of my distraction therapy has been dating. Yup, with men. I haven’t quite figured out yet which is more awkwarder (new word Mr. Merriam-Webster): dating or me on dates. But I will say this: Dating is what I dislike the most about being single. Everything else is under control – even cutting the grass.
Here’s a breakdown of the high points of my dating life – so far.
Note from the hamster: The writer’s use of the words “so far” indicate her plan to do MORE dating. My advice to her: Give. It. Up. Seriously – I’ve seen her on dates. She’s not good at it.
Note to hamster. Shut. Up.
High points of dating (so far):
The day is spent STRESSING. Top of the things-to-stress-about list: what to wear. This is because whatever you choose will “say something”:
– Wearing a dress will say, “I’ve put way too much thought into this.”
– Wearing jeans with cowboy boots will say, “My horse is waiting outside so let’s make this quick.”
– Wearing jeans with flip flops will say, “I really don’t care what you think about me – and do they serve poutine here?”
Only to finally decide that white jeans are really the only possible choice and thank god I put so much thought into it because just as I’m about to leave I let the dogs in and Jed rubs his dirty nose on my white jeans. *More stress*
I end up wearing shorts and sandals.
In the end it really didn’t matter what I wore because I spent the evening listening to Mr. Yeah-It-Was-Nice-BUT . . . talk about his PAST RELATIONSHIP – a marriage that lasted 27 years – and how unfairly he was treated.
Needless to say that it was a long night. It’s also the night that I figured out why alcohol was invented.