The last time I treated you to tales of my dating woe was The DejaDate back in March. I know how much you love hearing about my OKCupid dates, so I opened my good ol’ datebook and looked back to see what I’ve been up to since then. Now we can all laugh (or cry) together over how sad it is to be 35 and single in Baltimore***.
Let’s start with the Italian doctor. Smart. Accomplished. I’m sure he had a nice retirement fund. He was a real grown-up with a house in the County (and the kid to go with it. Blarg. But whatever). The doctor was really good on paper. Just like Dr. Bradley Meego (does anyone else get this reference?)
Potential, potential, potential. I wanted to like him, but it just wasn’t there. I wish that I was one of those girls who can fake it (and I don’t mean orgasms, I mean interest, attraction and affection). But I just can’t. Hence, I’ll never be a trophy wife.
Well, and I don’t have the tits for it.
Moving forward, there was a guy who is noteworthy only for the fact he has the exact same Vonnegut tattoo as Cleve (for you new friends: that’s ex-boyfriend from over 2 years ago Cleve). Seriously, that’s the only thing I remember about this dude.
Real talk: is it mandatory for all men under-35 to get Vonnegut tattoos? This was at least the 4th guy I’ve met with one. I don’t want to say it’s cliched, but…
It was the end of May.
On a hot day.
What was lurking under that cap? Was he bald? Did he have a Gorbechev birthmark? I will never know. Plus, he was wearing puka shells.