I actually wrote this post on Friday, but my computer ate it, and now it's lost somewhere in cyberspace. So I'm going to try and recreate it. What started all this was the post that I read over at Vanessa Virtue's blog, if you haven't read it, you should check it out. Apparently, I'm not the only one having a hard time with the guys.
In the meantime, Renee Zellweger got married to country singer Kenny Chesney. WTF? The first I heard they were even seeing each other was when she showed up at one of his concerts to give him a margarita, and now they're married.
That must have been some margarita.
I wonder if I could get the recipe!
So I've been single now for four years ever since ex-sweetie pie and I called it quits. Although really it's only been three years, since emotionally he and I didn't break up until 2002, when we realized that it had been a year, and we still weren't over each other.
In the past 3 years, I've made an effort to try and date to find someone new. Although I'm a very independent Scorpio, I have enough Libra in my chart , that makes me pretty relationship oriented. However, the men of New York are not cooperating.
Despite what Sex and the City might have led you to believe, men are not on every corner. I've tried everything from Match.com (which is a full time job), to speeddating to meeting guys in bars. I've even begged my friends who are in relationships to fix me up to no avail. Apparently, they don't know any single men. In my more paranoid moments, I think that either they don't care enough to fix me up (don't all married couples want to fix their friends up?) or maybe they just want to live vicariously through me (no, really a friend of mine actually said this!). Even my impossibly handsome British friend claims that his friends aren't good enough to fix me up with. FYI, if you're friends aren't good enough for me, why are they you're friends?
I've become desperate enough that I've even asked my gay friends if they have any straight friends they can fix me up with. When my best gay friend PH told me off a new restaurant in London that was apparently wall to wall breeders, I asked him for the name of the restaurant. I figured I could go there, and drape myself across the bar as a snack.
It's gotten so bad that I've even contemplated joining JDate, in the hopes of meeting a guy, and I'm not even Jewish (although I'm willing to convert). My friend Lucia says that I'm too picky, that all I'm looking for is a British guy with a six figure salary. That's not true. At this point, I'm willing to consider the UPS guy, as long as he has stock options.
Every new temp job, I look to see if there are any cute guys. My last temp job, there were none. The previous temp job, the only cute guy was twelve years younger than me. Before that, there were two cute guys at Morgan. One of them, this guy Ben, I actually took the plunge and asked him out via email. He completely ignored me. Didn't even say thanks but no thanks. How rude was that? I should have known that any guy who's initials are BS was not worthy of me. The other guy totally knew that he was cute, despite the Easter Island forehead, and the really horrible shoes (try getting them shined occasionally!).
At least I can console myself with the knowledge that the exterminator thinks I'm beautiful, as does the crazy guy with the cart near the subway station. So all is not totally lost.
It shouldn't have to be this hard. I mean, if I had known that I needed to chose my life partner in college, I wouldn't have majored in drama. I would have gone to Ithaca, at least then I would have the pick of both the Ithaca guys and Cornell guys to choose from.
I'm telling ya, it's hard not to get bitter in this city, to end up more Miranda than Charlotte, but even Miranda finally found her Steve. On the outside, I may wear the protective coating of cynicism, but inside beats the melting heart of a hopeless romantic.