I just had a "dating guy" break down. I don't really know what caused it. It was short, but to the point and accomplished what I had to say, and "say" I did. I would say that over the past 2 months or so, I've received about 45 or 50 unwanted emails and winks from unwanted suitors. Some were rude and others were just sad. One in particular was from some woman 10 years my senior just boasting about how lucky she is to be Italian and how lucky now "I" am that she is interested in "ME"! She went on and on about her good genes and her family and the great food they enjoy and everything a fat man might want to hear. Me, I was just amazed at her ability to be so thrilled over so little! Not knowing what else to write to her in particular, I merely told her, knowing full well that she did NOT smoke, that I'd prefer to be with a non-smoker. It didn't take her any more than 2 minutes to shoot an email off to me saying I must have her confused with someone else. I don't think I've heard the last of her!
Others were from extremely overweight women that wanted to lose weight while in my company. I suddenly became a catalyst for the weight watcher's program. Most of the women lived in other states and had no possible way of ever meeting me, but seemed to be practicing on me. I do list in my profile that I prefer slight of build women that are within a certain age demographic including light colored hair. They must be bright, clever and quick-witted. To some that must mean slow, dark haired and couldn't find their way out of a brown paper bag.
One lady from Virginia listed all of the things we did not have in common including our locations and that she STILL wanted to meet me. To her I merely replied a resounding, NO!
I think that some of my frustration comes from the lovely Jules. While I am supposed to be finishing up a nicely laid out meal, at a undisclosed location, with a perfectly lovely lady (Julie), and heading back to her house whispering sweet nothings into her ear, she is off screwing something entirely different than ME! PLASTICS! That's right, she's got an electric screwdriver in her hand and she's screwing 4 silver screws into the four corners of plastic lids that go over 4 plastic bases, but I digress! The factory screwed up again and couldn't deliver the necessary parts until late this evening, cancelling our dinner and after dinner plans, so I took it out on the poor single ladies across the country. As I write this blurb, my mailbox is lighting up with disgruntled complaints to my accurate, articulate replies.. I'm so, so sorry and I hope they get over it, but really, it's Julie and the factory's fault.................not mine!
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