I feel like a Cole Porter song.
Singing, shimmying, swaying, smiling.
The Man parade this weekend was bizarre at best, but also good. We had Friday night which included Mr. Phone Man, who I cancelled out on Thursday. He didn’t text and didn’t call except one time in 3 days and it wasn’t a complete sentence. “Band Practice now”. Huh?! Is it an order, a warning, or a statement? Who knows, who knew, who cares? I texted him and told him to keep on practicing.
Dr Dolittle (aka Dr. Sporty) flaked out, so I blocked him. And we had a strange contender for flake of the week: A guy we will call Braggy, asked me out. I told him all I had available was lunch Saturday. On Staurday he asked if we could meet at noon, then texted asking to meet at 3, then texted asking to meet at 7 PM. I replied that I was much too exhausted with all the planning, that I was afraid I was too tired for an actual date. (With him!)
Dr. Dolittle flaked that same night, so I accepted a date with Chief Wounded Ego. This man is very nice, really considerate, but very Vanilla. I mean, no sprinkles, no hot fudge sauce…nothing spicy. He talked about how his ex-wife ditched him without warning. It is a sad story, but it’s terrible to be on the receiving end of the ego-destruction. I need a man. Like a man-man. Not a half-hearted, broken man. If you have been reading my blog, you know that I am taking it as my mission to help rebuild his ego. However, I am not very single-focused and he will be my side-project. I like him and he is nice.
The final date of the weekend marathon was the flaming chocolate fondue. Kaboom. Dy-no-mite! Delish. Mr.Bubby Wubby is the quintessential tempting temptation for Miss Maribel Maeve: He is stocky and muscular (Yum), Gorgeous eyes, Smiles a lot and is smart and sexy. Also, he is (self-admittedly) cheap, drives an old beater and has no aspirations in life except to save money and at the same time become old. This type of a man baffles me because I don’t know why men think a woman would want to build her life on mediocrity. I don’t need the best of everything, but I would like to know that the man I am with has some kind of motivation. Women find men with ambition to be sexy. It’s genetics, I think. Hunt and gather. Not hunt and Nap. Gather, my man, GATHER.
Anyway, I am sure I will be utterly distracted from any possible meaningful future man because I will be drooling on Mr. Bubby Wubby or rescuing Chief Wounded Ego.