10:34 a.m. - 2005-10-30
Craziness.
Still no Bosnian luvin'. I guess he didn't have the constitution to walk back in the bar and say - "Vare iss Shannon?"
Oh well. There will be others. There weren't last night as Six and I carroused about town. Or actually, there was one or two that Six found attractive. She's on this real tiggerish kick where she's attracted to men with extraordinarily high energy and huge personalities. Tiggers. We did find a couple of those.
And we found about a hundred cross dressers. I know its Halloween weekend and all, but the number of men we saw dressed as woman and the number of women we saw dressed like whores was disheartening.
I think we need to re-think our stomping grounds again. The popular places in town are overpopulated with college kids and dirty old loser men praying on college women.
So our next plan is to find out where the men with jobs who are between 30 and 45 or so go out to play. We have accepted that we may have to wear something dressier than t-shirts and blue jeans and hang with yuppies to find the men who have real jobs (not necessarily professional, but employment is a must) to weed out a couple of assholes for us to date. Good assholes who don't mind a bit of dirt under their fingernails and don't take more time in front of the mirror than the two of us put together. In other words, no boring yuppy snobs who have recently divorced their second or third soccer mom wives and no metrosexuals.
I'm beginning to understand why people say its tough to date in your thirties. There's no cream in the crop. Just 1% milk. Not even organic. But I truly don't remember being overwhelmed by the pickins while I was in my twenties either. I may have been committment phobic, but I had eyes.
I'm blaming it all on the Bosnian Butthole Bastard for now, because to blame myself for being man-stupid is just too much responsibility to bear. I'd prefer to pass the buck and pretend that I'm a victim of circumstance and high standards.
Today is Sunday, and I have plans to go to an Indian buffet lunch with Six and Dee. I haven't had Indian in ages. It still hasn't made it to my neck of the woods. Too scary for the farming contingent. Isn't it funny how every bumfuck town has at least three Chinese restaurants, but Indian food is still considered something exotic and bizarre?
I could swear I have neighbours who believe that an American invented fried rice, egg rolls and "General Lee's Chicken".
And its all because of Bosnia.
Yes, I did end up obsessing. I'm always more attracted to a man a week after I meet him than I am up front. Wonder what that's all about?
Hmmph.
