While L has been regaling you all with tales of her superior messaging/life advice skills, and S has been coming down from the shock of this epic discovery, I’ve just been up here in Boston doing an Oscar worthy impression of a deaf/mute on the commuter rail*, mooning over Tim Riggins, and refusing to go out or do anything that costs money since I’m leaving in a week for a vacation to France and Iceland (because that polar vortex just wasn’t enough for this winter lover). Meaning: I will not be the co-blogger upholding S’s recent promise to you loyal readers of some date stories soon.
I mean, the closest I’ve come to going on a date in the past 4 months was in early December when I went out after work on a Tuesday with my new(ish) co-worker to do some bonding over drinks. Despite the fact that S is cute and very funny, and under other circumstances I would welcome going on a date with him, it was not a date. It simply resembled a date in that we were 2 people at a bar having drinks. As we were relative strangers and work together in a very small firm, he responsibly nursed 2 beers. Meanwhile, I got a wee bit drunk on my drink of choice, Jack and Ginger, and after we parted ways ruined a perfectly good pair of tights in what would be an extremely embarrassing fashion if I had any dignity left (I lost what shred of dignity I had left around mid July, 2012). I guess it resembled a date in more ways than 1. Regardless, I continue to be unworthy of a dating blog, and there will not likely be any date stories in the near future penned by me. But I do have a new work friend, so that’s a plus at least.
Despite my serious shortcomings lately, S & L haven’t kicked me to the curb just yet. So this week I offer an olive branch with a rather delightful pic of the week.
Did I say delightful? I actually meant crude and unfunny. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a huge fan of word play. I mean, when I made the switch from a droid to an iphone, it was 95% so that I could buy this iphone case:
But really? Carpet munching? If this picture is meant to exhibit the triple threat of wit, stunning physique, and sexual prowess, color me as unimpressed as the late, great, Whitney:
If you noticed that that picture was the second of 2 and are wondering what other gem he has up on his dating profile, I present you with:
Here’s hoping I get whisked off my feet by a rugged Icelandic lad and live out the rest of my days in the kind of climate few of us truly enjoy…
*UPDATE: I did finally manage to break the ice with CC. How, you ask. Flirty banter? A charming anecdote? No. By forgetting that I parked in Walpole that morning, which is one stop before my usual station on the way home, and then missing the stop for Walpole that evening (adding an hour to my commute). Because of course that would be the catalyst for me to finally speak to him like a human being. So although we do interact more now, including an occasional inquiry from CC as we approach Walpole about whether or not I’m there or in Norfolk (I’m now memorable at least), and enough for me to discover that he has a girlfriend of 7 years (through an actual conversation that I was a part of and not an eavesdropper to – GROWTH!), a leopard can’t change its spots. I’m still awkward little ‘ole me, who more often than not reacts to the presence of a nice, entertaining, attractive guy by pleading with my eyes for him to somehow know intuitively that I’m actually funny and charming if he could just make the first move.