Some time ago I mentioned I was going to dip a toe back into the dating
pool, but then never mentioned it again, like some of those peripheral characters on soap operas. Truth be told, in my attempt to
wade, I slipped and fell headfirst into what can only be described as a kiddie
pool based on the maturity level of most of those I’ve encountered. I will
state this was surprising so you won’t think I’m all jaded and whatnot.
After my most
recent debacle which involved an alleged construction accident in the
Philippines and the realization that I am not overly attractive while Skyping,
I was encouraged to blog about my experiences dating using as a guide the
numerous suggestions I have been given by well-meaning friends, church folk, acquaintances,
advice columnists, outcomes of lawsuits and random advertisements for dating
websites.
Titled “26 Ways to
Not Meet Mr. Right” (www.26waysright.blogspot.com),
this new blog will take you on a magic carpet ride but without any further veiled
drug references or Steppenwolf songs. Over
the next six months, I’ll be your intrepid explorer through the vast wasteland
of dating in an age of self-involved Pokémon Hunters with little to no ability
to actually communicate in person. I’ll
be like Columbus without the smallpox or murderous intentions; like Carrie
Bradshaw, with all the fashion but without all the trashy behavior. I love
me some Sarah Jessica Parker but all four of those ladies were what we would
call ‘fast’. Just saying.
On this particular note, please be assured my blog
will be rated PG as I am rated PG, or Puritanically Gleeful. And never fear, I shall continue the Penny
Loafers blogs although only 1/8 of my Facebook friends even read it and yes I’m
a little bitter, like endive; slightly bitter but still palatable.
Join me on my quest to find my one true love. I believe he is out there somewhere, unless
of course, he was hit by a bus or kidnapped while shopping for clearance-priced
Brooks Brothers. And even though Tanya
Calvert and Gary Piercey (yes, I still remember their names) used a particular song
to beat me in the Will Rogers Elementary School Talent Show in Burns Flat,
Oklahoma, in 1981, I will be like the ant that pushed over the rubber tree
plant and have (singing, with jazz hands) HI-I-I-IGH HOPES!
Somebody might want to say a prayer.
