Fool's Gold

My CL ad was up for all of 12 hours (9pm to 9am) and I got 30 replies.  Frickin a.  There are more desperate, screwed up men out there than I ever imagined--which means I have struck gold people!!!  Fool's gold is still gold right??

My ad:  I have issues and baggage....for starters I am a divorced mom of two kids...so if you can't imagine dating a woman with kids go ahead and stop reading. Believe me, I have tried to leave them at Walmart and the grocery store and even stopped picking them up from school at one point but they always manage to find their way home....so basically I am stuck with them and unless you are okay with that then this isn't going to work. Second of all I am emotionally stunted and if I didn't have a $40 copay I would probably be in therapy. I'm a little nutty but I'm definitely not what I have seen referred to as "bat shit crazy." I am well within the normal range of crazy (and I would like to point out that I stay within this range without medication). Moving on.

You are cruising CL for a lady so in all likelihood you have your own issues and baggage (I'm not judging--just pointing out the obvious)...so I am willing to assume you have low expectations as to what sort of person you might come across on CL. This is a great thing! By keeping your expectations low you have a better chance of being pleasantly surprised. I like your thinking. So where do we go from here? Well....you send me an email (and I beg of you--please use spell check)...we share some witty banter being careful not to share too much or else we will have nothing to talk about when we meet for drinks/coffee/slurpees/whatever. Is anyone still reading this?

Time to weed through all my replies...

Old Yeller

I have a question for the cosmos...what the fuck has happened to my life? Someone should seriously take me out back and shoot me. I am basically nothing short of the human equivalent of Old Yeller. How did I go from having so much promise (if you can consider being divorced with 2 kids as having promise) to foaming at the mouth wearing fat pants?  (the fat pants will be explained below) This is not good. Not good at all. I would love to blame my lack of blogging on writer's block...but in all honesty I can only blame it on my pathetic existence. Let me elaborate.

Halloween was a bust. It was a fun night out and I enjoyed myself...but I seriously saw no one I would have been willing to make lip on lip contact with (besides a guy that my friend has slept with who was all sorts of adorable--but apparently has a miniature manhood that requires a search and rescue team to locate...which is a God awful shame given his level of cuteness). So anyway, I was hit on by a greasy older dude who's wife recently drank herself to death (after his opening line of "Are you from Tennessee?......because you're the only ten I see"--I really did not have high hopes for him anyway) and a couple barely legal Marines. The night ended with me hiding in the bathroom. Enough said.

Since Halloween didn't do quite enough to damage my self-worth I decided to go out and buy fat pants just to make my "loser" status official. And by "fat pants" I mean pants with an elastic waistband. Also commonly known as sweat pants--which I believe were invented to hide unsightly fat under multiple yards of fabric thus allowing oneself to get fatter and fatter without realizing it. I have never before owned a pair of fat pants. I have pj bottoms and workout pants...but the fat pants I bought are neither for sleeping nor working out--so by having no actual intended use they are, without a doubt, my fat pants. Putting on my fat pants is basically like being awarded the gold star of a shitty social life...the blue ribbon of dating failure. They are a constant reminder that I have no plans to leave the house and I have no expected company coming over for whom I would want to look presentable for. I am a mere single step away from becoming a creepy cat lady.

Can you see why I have not blogged in 10 days? Do I really want to broadcast the fact that even when I am dressed up all dead sexy like (and by dead sexy I mean scantily clad and showing as much cleavage as humanly possible) I can't get a decent guy to hit on me? But fear not loyal blog readers and random strangers...craigslist is my ace in the hole (and by ace in the hole I mean my last possible act of desperation to find a man) and I am pulling out all the stops baby! So sit tight...because Old Yeller aint getting put down just yet!