It's in our blood

Update! I may have a coffee date this weekend with a guy who appears to be semi-normal, or at least able to carry on a conversation. Please note the severe skepticism clouding that statement. Given my luck this summer, romantic and otherwise, I am not inclined to put a lot of stock in planned social engagements with the opposite sex. This is only natural though; I contend that men are lousy at making/keeping plans and have been since the dawn of time. I can picture it clearly - Early Man and Early Lady going on a mammoth-hunting expedition, having a lovely, prehistoric time. The evening ends with Early Man knocking three rocks together, the pre-lingual way of saying "this was great! Let's do it again sometime." But he never stops by her dwelling again, and is soon spotted gifting a deer pelt to another lady. You can bet that the next village bonfire was pretty awkward for everyone.

My point being, if nothing happens this weekend, I do not think I will be the least bit surprised. In the meantime, I will continue to accept messages from other potential suitors. I like calling them suitors, as it makes the process seem fancy and dignified. One gentleman in particular keeps trying to initiate a conversation, but is about as attractive to me as a lard sandwich. He is definitely one of the computer-game-parents'-basement types. I admire his fortitude, as day after day there is a little note from him or something of the like. It makes me wish the website had a "Never In a Million Years" rejection button.

I told my father about joining the dating site, and he seemed pleased...until he learned that it's not J-Date. I am pretty sure I heard his heart sink over the phone. But really, who has 40 bucks to spend on a dating site? Let me pay you for the pleasure of feeling socially inept! Besides, I can still do this site and use the $40 to go to a bar and meet even more suitors. Logic, people, pure and simple. Anyway, Dad lectured me on the virtues of dating Jewish men, and then told me I should be getting serious about finding a husband in the next "two or so years". Apparently, once I turn 24, the other shoe will drop and I will officially turn into a tired, old hag.

Something to look forward to, I guess.