The Blog Lives On.

So I took everyone's advice and gave my online boyfriends each one more email to ask me out. I've got three dates this week.

Looks like I should turn this advice giving gig over to you.

Survey Says...

I could pull out my hair and throw my date-ready leopard print heels out the window. No need for them. I haven't had a date in weeks.

This is how it goes. He emails. I email. He emails. I email, et-fucking-cetera. And still there is no date. I wrote about how penpals piss me off a while ago, but the men in my inbox continue to pursue a clickity clack relationship.

Aiming my heel at the open window across the room, a thought suddenly occurred to me and I lowered the shoe in wide wonder. Could it be? Maybe, just maybe? Am I being impatient?

So dear readers, I'd like your help. Especially from any (the three) men who read my blog, how many emails need to go back and forth before you ask a girl out on a date?

Maintain Your Sense of Humor

We all hit rough patches. If you read my last post, you know I've hit one. But I'm over it. Really. And I only know that because I can laugh.

See, after I heard about the ex, I had a couple of days there where I wasn't dealing with it too well. Yesterday was one of those days.

When a song came on the radio, it was one that made me think of him. When I watched a movie, it had scenes from our favorite city. When I went to Target, there were aisles and aisles of students with his alma mater plastered on their chests (I shit you not. Dog food aisle, air freshener aisle, it made no difference.).

So yesterday was rough, but today I woke up with a new attitude. I remembered what an awful boyfriend he was and instead of being sad that someone I once loved was marrying someone else, I was happy that it wasn't me. I had a fantastic day making friends in the neighborhood and generally not thinking about the ex.

Then I went to Safeway.

Safeway has this policy where after you use your membership card, the cashiers read the name on the receipt and say, "Have a nice day Ms. So-and-so." Well, as I don't have a discount card, I usually type in my parents' phone number to suffice. Not only do I get the discount, but they get the name right ("Thank you Ms. [Dater]"). Well, this particular evening, I must have been distracted because I accidentally typed in my own phone number. The cashier glanced down at the receipt and said, "Thank you. Have a good night Ms. [Ex's last name].

Whoa. I must be hearing things.

So I check the receipt. There it is. [Ex's first name. Ex's last name.]

I must have gaped at that name for a good 30 seconds before my brain processed the random coincidence of it all. Crossing the parking lot, I threw my head back and laughed my ass off.

If there are dating guardian angels, mine's got a fucked up sense of humor.