I'm a serial dieter. Every day of my life since I graduated from college, I've been on one diet or another. I know all of the things you need to do to eat healthy. I know that I should choose a piece of fruit over a slice of cake. I know that water is better for me than soda pop. I know that a handful of chips is a portion, yet that doesn't stop me from wanting to eat the whole bag. The most recent diet I'm trying is the South Beach Diet. This is per my doctor's suggestion when I whined to him that I didn't know what else to do to shed some lbs. I've lost 8 lbs so far. I can be very successful with dieting if I get the right mind set. I lost 75 lbs on Weight Watchers a few years ago and kept it off for over a year. The thing is.. I suffer from compulsive fork-to-mouth disease. I like food. I like to cook. I like to sample my own cooking since I live at home and there's no one to cook for. So-- who wants to move in with me so that I don't feel compelled to eat the foods I cook? :) In January 1998, I met "G" on Match.Com. He seemed like a fairly decent guy. (Don't all of my stories start out that way?) He was an accountant for some kind of factory in the southwest part of town. He liked reading, cooking, traveling, and working out. The thing that had most impressed me was that he touted in his bio that he had recently lost 50 lbs and was proud of his accomplishment. That made me think that maybe he wouldn't be too critical of someone trying to lose a few lbs herself. After a couple of weeks of writing, he asked me if I wanted to meet. We agreed to meet for lunch at a nearby steakhouse. I told him I'd be wearing red. He told me (jokingly, I thought) that he'd be the tall good looking guy wearing a leather jacket. That morning, a snow storm had hit. The roads were icy and sidewalks were snow-covered. I didn't have a phone number to call and cancel so I decided to go to the restaurant anyhow and see if he showed. Right at our designated date-time, a tall, dark-haired guy who was somewhat attractive walked through the door. He looked at me and smiled one of those "fake" polite smiles and then gave me one of those fingertip handshakes-- you know the ones, kind of wimpy like the person doesn't really want to touch you but feels like they have to. The hostess led us to a table near a window. We made some small talk about the weather and then the waitress came to get our drink orders. "We'll both have ice water in the largest glass that you have, with lemon, no seeds in the lemon and only half filled with ice. Do not bring out any bread or butter," he told the waitress. I was stunned. I had seen men ordering for women on television and my friends often tease me that I possess "Sally" tendencies when I order (like "Sally" from "When Harry Met Sally", I like to have my foods a certain way) but this guy shocked me. After the waitress left, he looked at me and said, "Do you know how many calories are in one glass of regular soda? Do you know how many chemicals are in a glass of diet soda? And the bread-- killer! It's a waste of calories and it's better that we don't even have it on the table," he said. OK, I had told him in our emails that I was dieting but I would have liked the option to choose the right thing... or not. It was a date, for crying out loud, not a diet-consultation. Then, as I opened the menu, he put his hand on it and said, "We'll be ordering from the salad side of the menu." I tried not to look even more surprised. Take a girl to a steakhouse for lunch and tell her that she can have a salad. Hmmm... OK. I looked at the salads trying to figure out which one sounded the best. Typically, I don't mind ordering salads, but I had decided before the date that since we were meeting at a steakhouse and I rarely eat red meat that it would be a treat to possibly have some steak... or even a burger. The waitress came back with our mega-sized ice water (emphasis on water) with seedless lemon. She said, "I suppose you don't want crackers either." He looked at her as if she had just said that she had peed in our water. She shrugged. Then, we ordered our salads. We both ended up ordering grilled chicken salads. I was surprised that he let me order my own. Although he did frown when I ordered ranch dressing. He asked for the low-cal French. We started the small talk while we waited for our salads. Or... I guess I should say that HE started the small talk. He never really let me do any talking. He told me that he had gotten up at 6 am that morning and had gone to the gym and had spent two hours working out. He listed every machine, every rep, every set, every weight, and every minute of the workout for me. He explained the muscle groups he worked and even flexed a bicep for me. He told me that he then cleaned his house, cleaned out his truck, went to the grocery store and did a load of laundry before he met me. He then told me about his job and how long he had been at his job, what he did at his job, what everyone else did at his job, and what he hoped to accomplish at his job (ie become a supervisor within two years.) Then, our food came. Before I could take the first bite, he said, "Whoa! Don't eat the croutons. They are nuggets of death. Just as bad as the bread." He flicked each crouton off of his salad with his fork onto the table and then reached across and did the same to my salad. Then, he instructed me to remove half of the cheese, both yolks in both egg wedges and then told me to eat all of the "solid" veggies first (broccoli, radish, cauliflower, etc) before eating the lettuce because although it's a vegetable, the others had more vitamins and nutrients. I nodded and said thank you meekly and reached for my little cup of salad dressing. He shook his head and made one of those uh huh sounds. "You should dip your fork into your salad dressing and then your salad," he said and then demonstrated for me. At that point, I was waiting for him to put a bib on me and just feed me himself. Now, I know he was being healthy, but it was a little extreme to me. As we ate, he told me all about his diet. Dr. Barry Sears and THE ZONE. He told me all about the principles of the diet, all of the things he's learned doing the diet, how long he had done the diet and how it changed his life. I was waiting for him to pull out a book and do the "Vanna White" hand gesture as if advertising the book. I just nodded and congratulated him. Then, he said, "Stick with me and we'll have you slimmed down in no time flat. We can even get you a membership at my gym and I can help you. I know how hard it is. I used to be you. Now look at me!" I just smiled politely and looked around for a reason to exit. Then, just as I didn't think things could get any more bizarre, he announced to me, "You are date number 4." I looked at him quizzically and he said, "You are number 4 of 18." So, I asked what he meant and he explained to me that he had been in a long term relationship that went south once he started losing weight. So, once he lost all of the weight and got in shape, he noticed that women were paying more attention to him. He decided he wasn't going to rush into anything. He was going to date 18 different women of all ages, shapes, sizes, ethnicities before even thinking of settling down again. Now, keep in mind, I'm a romantic at heart so I said, "What if you meet someone you like before you get to woman #18?" He just shook his head, "Not going to happen. I am not going to allow myself to get serious about anyone until I've seen this thing through." I said, "But you can't put a number on love. What if your heart doesn't listen to your head and #8 is the one? She's everything you ever wanted and more." He said, "Then, she'll wait for me." I couldn't believe it. "Wait for you? You mean you'd keep on dating?" He just nodded. I asked him how he came up with the magical number 18 and he said that he just picked it with no real reason. It just sounded like a nice amount of people to meet before settling down. Then, the waitress brought our check and he said, "I'll pay this time." I thanked him. Then, as we walked to the door, I realized I didn't want the awkward goodbye outside so I said to him, "You know what? I should use the restroom before I go so why don't you just go ahead and go?" He said, "Are you sure?" I said yes and he said ok and left. I stood inside the lobby watching him leave and our waitress came over and said, "I couldn't help but eavesdrop on your date. That man is a real prize." I laughed and told her, "Well, it wasn't a total loss, I did learn some diet tips." She laughed, too, and then I left. When I got home, I sent him an email telling him that I wished him luck with his diet, exercise and dating plan. He sent me an email back and provided a link to The Zone's website. I blame him for my dislike of dieting. :)

I really liked Diva's banner so much that I dug up a picture from last summer's vacation to the Outer Banks and then poked around on the net until I found a website to host my banner... and voila! The bird is gazing longingly at the ocean... and I know exactly how he feels.

I logged on to try to write some kind of amusing blog entry, filled with amusing anecdotes or mindless ramblings..... but I've had a crappy day and I just don't feel like being perky. :( Thank goodness this week is almost over. Someone pass the chocolate. Today's "FYI"-- An ingredient found in chocolate may help quell allergy-related coughing. Scientists from Imperial College in London gave 10 volunteers theobromine, a compound found in chocolate, then induced coughing with a capsaicin supplement. The compound proved to be nearly three times more effective than codeine-based cough medicine. Theobromine suppresses vagus-nerve activity which causes coughing. (WOMEN'S HEALTH MAGAZINE.) So-- I say again.. someone pass the chocolate. :)

I have a confession to make--- I'm an information junkie. I love knowing things, finding out things, researching things, reading things, exploring things, looking up things, etc. I've always been this way. I started early, much to my parents' chagrin, and have kept on going. Knowledge is power... and it's also a fun way to make conversation with people. I love to play trivial pursuit and try to watch JEOPARDY whenever I can remember that it's on. I've become the "Did you know..." girl at work. Some little snippet I heard on the radio, saw on the TV, read in a book, magazine or newspaper. Today's "Did you know..." was from WOMEN'S HEALTH MAGAZINE. Did you know that according to researchers at the Univ of Alberta (Canada), the length of a man's fingers relative to his ring finger can predict physical aggression. The shorter a man's index finger as compared to his ring finger, the higher he scores on standard psychological tests for aggression. Whodathunk? And to think I only look at the ring finger to see if there's a wedding band or a tan-line from a mysteriously missing wedding band. Guess size does matter. ;) I started reading before I started school so that I could read the newspaper... or at least, try. The first book I read on my own was THE SHOEMAKER AND THE ELVES. Even before I could read, I would look at pictures in books and magazines and try to absorb everything about them. I asked a lot of why and "how come?" questions. I was a sponge in school. Soaked everything right up-- especially if it had to do with the human body, reading, languages, writing, etc. I was the only kid in 7th grade that "got" diagraming sentences right out of the gate. I spent many hours in the library. I would go to the card catalog to "browse" and if something struck my fancy, I'd hunt down the book and read it. Many times over if it really interested me. I remember being teased by the librarian because I'd wear out my library card much quicker than anyone else. I found out all about sex from reading Judy Blume's FOREVER in 6th grade. I discovered a talent for FRENCH when I found an old book written in the language in my grandmother's house and wanted to know what it said. (It turned out to be a volume of an encyclopedia.) I used to have a thick paperback dictionary and every day after school, I would read a page or two. By the time I graduated high school, I had read the entire dictionary at least once. I once had a teacher tell me that in order to "own" a word forever, you had to use it three times the day you learn it. So, I would look up words, and then find ways to use them so that I could officially "own" the words. To this day, I'm the only person in my circle who uses the word "albeit" on a regular basis. :) As I grew older, the thirst only intensified... and even led to some pretty interesting hobbies such as making spells and potions, cooking, baking, making candles, making soap, knitting, crocheting, sewing from a pattern, pilates, writing, dream-interpretation, and many more. The internet opened up even more doors. I love just sitting down and typing a word into google and seeing where it takes me. At work, I've become the informal "do you know?" person. "Do you know who invented liquid paper?" "Do you know how to get rid of a coffee stain?" "Do you know how many calories are in a Panera Asiago Cheese Bagel?" GOOGLE is one of the few sites I do have access to at work and on my lunch break, I will research things. And then answer the questions of my colleagues. I also love to read magazines. All kinds of magazines. Each payday, I "allow" myself to splurge on one magazine I've never read before on any topic I want. I also subscribe to many magazines and then once I've read them, I either sell them at a used bookstore or give them to my co-workers so that they can have some information, too. The mind is a terrible thing to waste and whomever said that was a genius.... Now, I'm gonna go look that up because I don't know. :)

I was going to watch PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN last night but as I was about to put the DVD into the player, I noticed that the movie is about 2 1/2 hours long. It was already 9 pm and if I don't get to bed before 11 pm, I'm a real grouch in the morning when the alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m. for work. So, I watched UNTOLD STORIES OF THE ER instead and went to bed. I really want to see the movie, though, because I've always had fantasies about sailing the high seas and looking for buried treasure. Whenever I think of "treasure", I think of "L". I met "L" the summer of 1997. He was a friend of a friend who had seen my photo and wanted to meet me. The friend told me and since I respected her, I told her that it was ok to let him know I'd entertain any conversation he wanted to initiate. "L" and I would meet in a chat room in the on-line forum I belonged to and we'd flirt a little, joke a little, etc. He seemed nice enough and we quickly established a rapport. We even had this "private joke" about how our friend expected us to meet, fall madly in love and get married. Cute stuff. The hopeful romantic in me found those things endearing. We quickly moved from chat room to telephone and he seemed like a decent guy. Then, our mutual friend announced that "L" was coming for a three-day weekend visit and suggested (HIGHLY suggested) that it was time that we met. She was so sure that things were gonna be perfect, wonderful, straight out of a Disney cartoon with flowers sighing, birds singing and rainbows appearing. It was very stressful because I'm kind of shy when I first meet someone and it takes me some time to warm up. The thought of meeting someone under the watchful eyes of a friend who was so insistent that things were going to be wonderful was even more stressful. Our friend and I agreed that a little informal meeting at my place followed by a trek to a nearby park for hiking, a picnic, etc would be fairly fun and a great way to get to know each other. Early on a Saturday, "L" showed up with our mutual friend, her husband, and her two rather rambunctious children. "L" wasn't what I expected. I had never seen his photo and had relied on my friend that he was a "good catch." I'm not exactly shallow but like everyone I do have certain things that I'm attracted to and certain things I'm not. I wasn't attracted to "L". There was just something about him that gave me weird vibes. I tried to not let it show. I was friendly and polite and hoped that as I got to know him better, we'd click more. I'm about the benefit of the doubt. There have been guys I've met who didn't do anything for me until I had a chance to get to know them better, pick their brains, see if they can make me laugh. I hoped, for our friend's sake that we'd click a little. We didn't. Under the watchful gaze of our friend, I pretended to be having a wonderful time. I didn't want to hurt her feelings or "L"'s. I just figured I'd soldier through the weekend and politely say things didn't work out. "L" and I made small talk, took a hike in the woods, took some pictures, even tried holding hands while we explored some caves, but nothing. No spark. I'd try to get some space, but our friend kept pushing us to be together. I kept hoping for a moment alone with her so I could tell her that we weren't clicking. On the way back to my apartment, our friend asked "L" what "our" plans were for the evening. I was exhausted and grimy from the woods adventure. I just wanted to go home and go to bed. "L said that he had something "special" planned. So, we agreed that he'd return in a few hours to pick me up. "Dress nice," he said. In front of our friend, he was witty and charming, but then when we were alone, he was creepy, broody and not very charming. When he showed up three hours later, he was still wearing the same dirty jeans and t-shirt he had worn on the hike. When I opened the door, he said, "I have a surprise for you!" and yanked off his shirt. Written on his chest were the words "TREASURE TRAIL" with an arrow pointing downward. I must have looked puzzled because he said, "Follow the trail, find your treasure." Then, he waggled his eyebrows. I just stared at him, then laughed nervously. Hello. Didn't we just spend a miserable afternoon together? What part of the awkwardness, the non-clicking, the inability to make conversation, the tense moments alone did he miss? When he realized I wasn't finding his "treasure trail" amusing, he put on his shirt and said, "Let's go to dinner." Being a trooper, I went. Then, after dinner, he said, "I used to live here. Do you mind if we drive around a little?" I said I didn't mind. I was a much more timid person back then. So, we drove past the apartment he used to share with some guys in the scary part of town, then we drove past the gas station where he used to get gas when he lived in the scary part of town, then we ended up in this residential area near the scary part of town and as we approached a house, he slowed down and turned off his headlights. We creeped by the house and I asked what was up and he said, "My ex-wife lives there." EX-WIFE??? THAT little bit had never come up before. We circled the house three times and each time, he would make some nasty comment about her. I finally asked "L" to take me home. I'd had enough. When we got back to my apartment, he walked me to my door and at the door, he said, "Can I come in for awhile? We don't have to do anything you don't want to." I just looked at him and said, "I have to work in the morning. I'm really tired." He said ok and left. My friend was rather disappointed (major understatement) that there was no wedding bells in our future, but after awhile, she stopped talking about it and I stopped having nightmares about creepy men offering me a one-way trip down the treasure trail. I don't even want to think about what kind of hidden treasure he had down there. Moral of this story: DO NOT let anyone ever fix you up with someone unless you get a full background check, three references from previous relationships and a signed affidavit that nothing creepy will happen on the date. :)

About a decade ago, I worked at a summer camp with school-age kids. One of the things we did at the beginning of the summer was have the kids make a "poster" about themselves. We challenged them to list 50 Things about themselves so that others at camp could get to know them better. I don't feel witty enough for a "dating disaster" story today, so I'm just gonna list my 50 Things.... 1. My favorite color is red 2. My eyes are green 3. I'm right handed 4. I dream in color 5. My first dog's name was Moochie 6. I have a younger brother 7. I played with Barbie dolls until I was 12 8. I slept with a night-light until I left home for college 9. I've been to 18 states 10. I won $2500 playing slots in Vegas in 2001 11. I love seafood but hate fish 12. I love Dairy Queen ice cream 13. I had my tonsils out when I was 6 14. I'm afraid of birds 15. I can't swim 16. My favorite number is 28 17. I co-wrote a book called THE AMAZING MISADVENTURES OF IRVING AND RANDALL the year after I graduated from college, then got into a fight with my co-author and he swore to sue me if I ever tried to publish it 18. I have been in love with three men in my life. 19. I have always dated younger men 20. I can't stand mustard 21. I've seen Rick Springfield in concert 4 times 22. I was named after milk (Beverly Farms Milk, which I think used to be in Beverly, MA) 23. I was supposed to be named Crystal Dawn. (It was the 60s...) 24. I grew up in Pennsylvania 25. I had perfect attendance in high school 26. I used to have an imaginary friend called Charlie Chan The Made Up Man. (Yeah, I know it's a real name but my brother came up with the name and we shared Charlie.) 27. When Harry Met Sally is my favorite movie 28. I love old romantic comedies from the 50s and 60s 29. I wanted to marry Elvis when I was in 4th grade 30. I wanted to marry Rick Springfield when I was in 8th grade 31. I broke my right leg in 1992 32. My roommate and I got caught peeping in a boy's window when I was in college 33. I have seen the movie PRETTY WOMAN 56 times and know all of Julia Roberts' lines 34. I played a "wise man" in the Christmas Play in third grade 35. I have lived in the same apartment for 7 years 36. I researched, designed, wrote and coordinated the publishing of a pamphlet on "Quality School Age Child Care" in 1996 which was used by 17 counties in Ohio 37. I did a live segment on TV on "Quality School Age Summer Care" that same year 38. I'm very crafty and give home-made soaps to my friends every Christmas 39. I "house-sat" an allegedly haunted sorority 40. I can't sleep with my bedroom door closed 41. I once had my "fortune" told and the "fortune teller" told me that the letter "K" would be significant to my soul mate 42. I went out with a construction worker I met at the Knights Inn. He wasn't my soul mate. 43. I sang "Frosty the Snowman" with a co-worker at a Christmas party in 1995 44. I make a mean spinach dip 45. I don't smoke 46. I'm a diabetic 47. I collect shot glasses 48. I grew up in a town that had less than 1000 people 49. I am superstitious 50. I believe that things happen for a reason

It's Sunday morning and I have a stiff neck. By the time you read this, it will no longer be Sunday morning, but I bet I'll still have a stiff neck. I don't know how these things happen. I go to bed sleeping in one position and wake up in pretty close to the same position. Yet, for reasons unknown to me, muscle groups gang up while I sleep and decide to go on strike. So, today, I move through the world looking to the left. Looking to the right is just too painful. "What's that smell?" you ask. Aaah, that would be extra-strength Ben Gay. Lovely. I'd really like to have a neck rub or massage. When I think of massages, I think of another one of my internet dating disasters. This time, it's 1998. I met "R" on a "friendship only" message board on AOL. He had just moved to the city from a nearby county and had just started a "really good job" in the computer field. I was just looking for someone to write to... and "if it develops into more, then so be it." That's what I told "R." The one thing I remember most about "R" was that he was really really into massages. Giving masages. No matter what I'd tell him about my day, he'd find a way to offer me a massage. "I had to work over today," I'd write. "Hey, did I tell you that I give a mean massage?" he'd write back. "I broke a nail today," I'd write. "Hey, you sound like you need a massage, " he'd offer. It became almost a joke to me because no matter how bizarre of a day I'd tell him I had, he'd offer up that massage. The longer we wrote, the more involved the massage offer would be. At first, it was just an "innocent" neck rub. Then, a back rub. Then, lunch and a back rub. Then, a swim in his pool, lunch and a back rub. Then, it would be dinner, a movie and... yes, a back rub. "You can even keep your underwear on, " he offered up once. OK, I know, where's the "disaster"? Well, after 4 months of writing him, I only knew that he was into computers, fresh out of the Army, liked to sing and wanted to give me a back rub. Oh, I also knew his home town and his full name. That was it. We hadn't connected on any level that made me want to go over to his place and yank off my top for a back rub. Then, one day, I was at my part time job telling a co-worker about "R" and she asked me what his last name was. I told her. She said, "You're not going to believe this, but I went to high school with him!" I asked her if he was so ... persistent.. in high school and she said, "Call his bluff! I know this guy. He's afraid of his own shadow. If you were to say yes to him, he'd probably pee his pants." So, that night, when I got home and sent "R" an email about how long my day had been, I added, "A back rub would really be nice. Maybe we really should meet." I didn't hear back from him for days. Then, he sent me the e-mail that most nice guys use when they want to end things but don't want to just come out and say it. "I'm going to busy for awhile..." he said and then a few months later, he sent me another e-mail that he was moving to Florida. I never heard from him again. The thing is... the more my co-worker told me about him, the more wonderful he sounded to me. (shrug) Guess he didn't want to go through life as "the nice guy". Guess he wanted to be known as "the back rub guy."

Let's go back in time several decades... When I was in my early teens, I was really into reading teen romance novels and in love with Rick Springfield. Those were my two obsessions. It didn't matter that the girls and boys in the books were nothing like me and my friends. I still loved reading those books. The sweet innocence of first love. The happy ever after which usually meant that someone got to go to prom. Then, when I was 13, my best friend Karen snuck me one of her mother's romance novels. It was a Harlequin Romance called JOURNEY TO QUIET WATERS. (Yeah, I still remember the name and even recently bought a used copy on the 'net to add to my collection for sentimental purposes.) I remember feeling oh-so-naughty when I read about his hands grasping at her heaving bosom and how his manhood jutted proudly. WOW! Heaving bosom. Jutting manhood. Where do I sign up? Talk about a nice introduction into adulthood. I was hooked. The "innocent" part of me kept right on reading about shy girls who loved the handsome jock and wanted to go to prom. The "naughty" side of me waited for my regular dose of Karen's Mom's books. Fast forward several years. It's 1994. I just bought my first home computer which came with a free 30-day trial to the on line service Prodigy. I don't even know if it still exists. These were the days before advanced things like these forums. We had "bulletin boards." So, I found a "bulletin board" for fledging romance writers and avid romance readers. I met the author Cathie Linz on that bulletin board. (This might mean something to anyone who has ever read a Harlequin romance.) Anyhoo-- I posted a note that I was writing a romance novel and was looking for "young men" to provide insight, advice and real-life stories of their own romance practices. OK, now those of you who just snickered and thought, "Gee, that sounds like a pick up line", you'd be right. I wasn't *really* writing a book at that time but I was looking for some inspiration. My muse. Heaving bosom and jutting manhood, too. (MY heaving bosom, of course.) This guy "V" responded immediately. We began a nice little pen-pal relationship. He told me he was a newspaper man from Vermont in his early 40s. (I was a child care worker in my early 20s.) It all seemed very Richard-Gere-Pretty-Woman to me. Older man. Experienced man. Plus, he was in the newspaper biz. Hello! Possibly career path! "V" started almost immediately with his flirting and double entendres. I'd throw out these hypothetical situations for the purpose of "my romance novel" (wink, wink) and he'd come back with "this is what I would do" type stuff. We started to get pretty involved nevermind he was married and had kids my age. (Yeah, I kinda forgot to tell ya that, huh?) "V" was becoming way more than lil ole Bevy could handle so I created an alter-ego named Ursula. (I was watching MAD ABOUT YOU at the time.) I introduced Ursula to "V" as my older, more experienced sister who was fresh from a bad marriage and looking for some no-strings lovin'. It was quite strange being two people at the same time. Innocent, sweet Beverly pretending not to understand the come-ons of "V" and brash, bold Ursula who had "V" wrapped around her siren-red perfectly manicured finger. Alas, as most stories go, things didn't last very long. "V"'s wife found out about his little on-line habit and he sent me/us a good-bye e-mail... and his address in case I/we were ever in Vermont and wanted a good time. :)

It's Friday night and I am ready for bed. Last night, the two girls who live next door to me decided to throw a party. Everytime someone would knock on their door, a rousing chorus of drunken yells would rise up to my bedroom window. It reminded me of CHEERS whenever Norm would visit. The thump-thump-thump of music lasted until 4:45 a.m. I think I got maybe 3 hours total of sleep last night. Needless to say, I'm kinda sleepy now. Let's start my internet dating stories with the letter "A". I met "A" about 5 years ago. I had placed an ad on one of those more-popular dating websites. We wrote back and forth for a couple of weeks. He seemed nice enough. Then, we exchanged photos. I sent a nice little photo of me laughing with some friends. He sent me back what could be called "Male Boudoir Photography." He was lying on a bed, on his side, with a sheet pooled around his waist. The sheet was some kind of shiny material. Probably not real silk or satin, but one of the Wal-mart variations. Sateen or something. He had a knee bent and an assortment of unused condoms spread on the bed beside him. His reddish-blonde hair was mussed as if he had just gotten good use of those sateen sheets and condoms. The picture made me giggle.... and in a twisted way, kinda turned me on. I printed it and showed it to my co-workers the very next day. They immediately decided that I had to meet this guy so that I could see if he was the real deal. I emailed "A" that I wanted to meet and we agreed on a restaurant near my job. Well, the guy who showed up was NOT the guy in the photo. The guy who showed up looked like Barney Rubble. No joke. I checked the parking lot for a stone-age vehicle he had driven to the diner with his feet. As we were eating, he said to me, "I have a confession to make. I'm an off and on recovering coke addict. I just thought you should know." I didn't know what to say. I nodded politely and asked how things were going with that and instead of answering me, he asked me what kind of car I drove, where I worked, how much I made, if my car was paid for and if I rented/owned my own home. I didn't know if he was a date or a telemarketer. I had the feeling he was trying to see if I could help finance his little habit. I dodged the questions with half-truths and funny stories and then when we left the restaurant, he said, "You sure are pretty. Can I have a hug good bye?" I said, "Ya know, it's about 90 degrees out and I don't really feel like hugging. No offense." He nodded and sort of schlumped away. He sent me a couple of e-mails after our date, but I just couldn't bring myself to encourage the relationship. I don't know what bothered me more-- than he was an "off and on recovering coke addict" or that he wasn't the "come see me sometime" guy in the sateen sheet. =)

I've been thinking of doing a blog but then I thought, why would anyone want to read my blog? Then, today, I was entertaining my co-workers with stories of my 10+ years into the foray of internet dating and I had one guy laughing so hard he had tears streaming down his face. He said, "You should write this kind of stuff down!" I said, "Why? Who would read it?" and he said that it shouldn't matter... that I should be writing. So.. I'm all about signs... and when I came home and logged into tv.com and saw that there is a BLOG option, well... there's my sign!