Monday, June 2, 2014

Sex and the City vs Reality

Me and Bennie lookin' cool.  And just about ready to hit the gym and watch some Sex and the City, though I might have to start watching something else even though that show rocks.

The other day JJ noted,
"You're obsessing over men again.  What gives?"

And I have to admit, this pissed me off, what with all the self-help I've done over the past three years.  So I wondered why am I doing this.  The reason?  It's so simple you'll laugh.  It's because the Food Network keeps showing Ree's Drummond's stupid show The Pioneer Idiot, and that dumb show about restaurant owners putting up hidden cameras to bust their minimum wage employees for doing horrible things like texting or laughing on the job.  So, I flipped around and found a channel that runs marathons of Sex and the City.  While this does wonders for my figure, making me stay longer and doing more cardio I found out that watching this show is bad for my mental health.


The show is well written.  The acting is great.  And so much of what they say about dating and men is spot on.

So why is it bad for us?

JJ is right.  It makes women obsess and feel like losers if they're not in a relationship.  And considering over 60% of American women are single, this isn't a good message.

I don't need to be feeling desperate again.  As if being single for TEN YEARS with only a handful of dates isn't enough pressure.

So what's going on in my big, fat, dating world?

The Pentecostal
The Pentecostal I went out with last week was just so-so.  Of course, he didn't have a beer with me when we met--only a root beer.  I tried my best to not let loose any F-bombs or bring up such begging questions as "So do you guys do that speaking in tongues crap?  How do you keep from laughing?"  We shared a pizza, and he went out and bought a new tent due to my pressuring him about how cool camping is.  But he was also giving me that icky "face-rape" look you get from guys.  So that lost points.  We'll see how that pans out.

Micheal Jackson
Memorial Day, I went hiking with a different dude, a nice enough guy who's also sort of a religious type.  We'll call him Micheal Jackson.  It was fun.  He's sort of cute, too.  And he wants to give me an extra clothes dryer that he no longer needs, so that's a real bonus.  But when he talks, he sounds exactly like Micheal Jackson, soooooo. . .  I had gas really bad when we were hiking so I had to do many "Cammo Coughs" to cover up some butt-trumpeting.  Hopefully, he never heard any of them.

High School Principal
Then there's the "Assistant Principal" guy.  He's cute, and he's only less than one hour away, but his texts to me are so sparse of words, that I wonder if he has some texting plan where they charge him per word or something.  And we have yet to have a phone conversation.  "If you want to go hiking, I'm booked up until mid July," he texted me.  OK.  He's got school for another two weeks and custody of his kids until then.  I get it, so why you even trying to date then?

Southern Gentleman
And don't forget, the Southern Gentleman is still texting me.  He had back surgery last week, but is recovering well.  If he could only lose about 75 pounds, he'd be dreamy.  But after his last frightening "selfie" last month I grew scared.  For starters, it was shirtless in a hot tub.  Four double chins, a tiny, tiny tuft of hair on top his head reminding me of a bean sprout and a gold chain.  But he's nice, soooooooo.  How far "nice" gets a gal, I'm not sure.

The BEST of them All, Shawn-from-the-gym
And finally there's Shawn-at-the-gym guy, the one I really want to date.  We talked last Friday at the gym for about an hour before we both went our separate ways.  As usual, the conversation was stellar, and we both did a lot of laughing.

"Sooooooo, I guess I'll hit Paddy's for a beer," I said hopefully throwing out some bait.
"I'll probably go home and help my dad mow," Shawn said.

OK, at least he didn't say, "I have to go home and organize my sock drawer."  Still, bummer.   I just can't seem to get outta the batter's box with this guy.

And I haven't even brought up Deadwood Dick.  He's still wanting to take me out, maybe next week, but I haven't told him I'm not an E.R. doctor yet.  (see "Deadwood Dick" many posts back this winter)

Stay tuned, and happy summer!

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