Besides wishing for the standard love, peace and hap-penis, I have a New Year’s resolution. I’m going to go on more dates than last year! That should bring my ambitious dating quota to 3. And I’m talking Man-dates.
Don’t let my low dating numbers fool you. I’m perfectly dateable. Really smart, really cute, really desirable, good family, not materialistic, savvy with money, athletic (some would say “skinny”), fun yet serious, employable but not employed, experienced with kids and adults and cats but not dogs – what’s not to love?
Could it be the tattoo on my forehead that says, “Divorced! I’ve been rejected! Now I’m hurt and vulnerable! Don’t you fuck with me!” ? I should really have that tattoo removed. Then maybe I could go into bars without men scrambling under their barstools and stooling in general.
Last year I spent the fateful NYE at home, fireside, computer on lap, alternating between legal briefs (no, I’m not in law school, and it wasn't underwear briefs), final fake flirtations with wasbund (who shortly thereafter wholeheartedly ditched me to quickly cohabitate with my old crusty colleague), and simultaneously wondering why Knives didn’t want to spend time with me (being my “boyfriend” and all), yet he went to a party with acquaintances he hadn’t seen in 10 years. I felt truly special and loved.
Seriously though, besides 3 dates, I have a couple sub-NY-resolutions: