I’ve been appearing lately more as a guest-poster than as a co-blogger. Namely because I spend most of my waking hours being swallowed whole by one case, trapped in the corner of my office by an ever rising stack of boxes upon boxes upon boxes of discovery. Dating has, sadly, taken a bit of a backseat to the glamorous lifestyle of civil litigation. So it’s likely that stories of hilarious hi-jinks in person will be pretty sparse for awhile. But fear not, I still receive messages from the fine gentlemen of greater Boston, and the kind of man I apparently attract is still comically soul-crushing.
You guys. I didn’t even have to put our cupid logo over his face because his face does not appear on his profile. AT ALL. That Flintstones cartoon is his sole profile picture.
You can’t expect me to seriously consider engaging in conversation with you if you substitute a cartoon image for a picture of yourself, and can’t form complete sentences at the age of 40. Also, while I’m generally cool with being called cute, is it just me or is it kind of creepy coming from a 40 year old?
So that’s what’s happening in this neck of the woods.
I wouldn’t trust anyone from Rhode Island.
Wise words. Definitely can’t marry anyone from that state, so no point in dating a Rhode Islander.