I haven’t been blogging because my laptop broke.

The frenchie decided to go after Garth and they had a big dog fight right on top of my head which caused me to spill water on the laptop.

Okay, it was gin.

But gin ruins your computer same as water. Thanks rescue dogs.

Now I wouldn’t be pecking out this post on my cell phone if I didn’t have a story to tell you.

First you should know that I put back my J Lo extensions and basically long hair makes me feel pretty and when I feel pretty I’m unstoppable.

So, feeling pretty and unstoppable, I reactivated my OK Cupid profile.

Doesn’t matter how sure I am that I’ll never date again. When my mojo flares I decide that I can handle the dating app jungle and I dive back in.

With my cute bob I was stuck in the fugly algorithm, but with the Rapunzel locks I started getting some decent matches again.

I’m not being paranoid. The founder of OkC confirmed that the more people who like your photos, the more attractive matches they send you.

So my prior strategy of looking a little reserved and librarian-ish so that loser guys would quit hitting on me for sayex, well it was a bad strategy. Now I just delete anyone who says, “Hi.”

This time around with the hair, I found myself entertaining several really good matches.

Date 1 during the week was just ok. He was a semi-retired bank executive, nice enough, no spark though. He looked like a greek John Goodman, minus a few pounds. Like John Goodman and Michael Dukakis had a baby. He’s still texting me links to videos and I’m not really responding because he isn’t the guy for me. Tough love. Easy come, easy go.

Date 2 was tonight.

I swear to G-d there were no red flags. Unlike the Goodman-Dukakis guy, I was attracted to this fellow’s pictures. His writing was funny, he’s an electrician and also kind of arty. And he had a little edge. Just my type.

Did I mention I’m a blue collar gal? Well, I am.

Try as I might to fall for office men, they usually just aren’t for me. I like a little grit. I like guys who can fix things. I get along well with tinkerers. Outdoorsy works too.

But I also need brains.

This guy had it all. Plus he seemed very interested in meeting me. And he had a nice voice on the phone.

I’m telling you, no red flags.

I got off work and the plan was for me to wash and do my hair. I only wash my hair once a week now because it takes forever to dry. And also because I don’t need to wash it more than that.

The extensions are a pain to wash, but every day they are pretty cinchy to style. You just wake up looking like a Disney princess and go. Ok, a rasta Disney princess, but good enough.

I barely had enough time to wash, blow dry and curling iron myself, so I texted Date 2 and asked if we could move our meet up time back fifteen minutes.

We had planned to meet at Penrose because it’s my fave restaurant up the street and I mentioned that if he had reservations I’d be happy to call the restaurant and move them a little.

First 🚩 red flag: he said he had already had dinner and was just going to have a drink.

Mmmmkay.

Nothing wrong with meeting for a quick drink. Only maybe don’t plan to meet at a restaurant at 7:30PM if you are gonna do the one hour-one drink meet up. Or at least tell the person ahead of time.

Already I’m thinking the guy’s communication skills are a little underdeveloped.

My excitement dropped from an eight to about a four, just like that.

Even when he texted back to say he made reservations at 7:45 for us, after I said I was planning to have their flatbread, even after that.

Even then, I was down to 4/10 excitement.

One thing I’ve learned is if anything, even the tiniest thing, gives you pause before you meet a stranger for a date – run.

If you think something is a little off before you meet, chances are they are gonna be way off IRL.

So I walked to the restaurant and I sat at my favorite spot which is the long community table and it was a bit of an ordeal because even though I always sit side by side instead of across from at this table at this restaurant, tonight they decided it was a forbidden seating arrangement.

Then I got sad and they relented.

I sat down and took a deep breath. Then another one. Then I ordered a drink. Then I sipped the drink.

I told the waiter who looked like the dude from groove is in the heart only black that I was waiting for an OkC date. He was gay so he high-fived me.

Then I got a text that my date was parking.

I said – I’m drinking a yummy drink, hurry!

And he said: Hurry?

Yeah, hurry, I was being cute but guess what, don’t hurry.

I didn’t say that. Instead I said, “yeah, you’re already twelve minutes into your allotted one hour.” You know, sense of humor.

I didn’t want to be overly snarky, so I added the laughing so hard you’re spraying tears emoji and then I just said I was sorry that parking was such an ordeal.

When he arrived he sat across from me even though I gestured to the seat next to me. Even though that place wasn’t set and the place next to me was ready to go, with flat water, he held his distance.

Twas a little awkward.

His response to my how are you was to tell me he thought he had an ear infection.

Oh no!

Even though I had a long day seeing patients I jumped into doctor mode…have you been swimming? Do you have a cold?

And then the waiter asked him if he’d like a drink.

No, he was gonna stick to water.

And he didn’t want to try my drink because he was having stomach cramps.

In fact he had been having stomach problems lately. Only this was worse.

I ordered some food that he wasn’t going to share because he’d been laid up on the couch only an hour before…about the time I was getting in the shower.

I think he may have said he liked to go to the movies and watch dancing but he didn’t like to dance himself. I ask every guy if they would consider square dancing at the marxist library in Berkeley – as a kind of litmus test of how go with the flow they actually are.

Some guys who profess to be very chill become quite negative and adamant when you mention square dancing. I find it amusing because it’s so fun and it’s a great screening tool. Would it kill ya?

Anyway after his big fail with that question and a little more banter about how awful he was feeling, I decided to cut him loose.

I said that I thought he was too sick to be out and he agreed and said “rain check?” and I said – like hell.

No, I said “ok” but yeah, right. It’s not gonna happen.

Here’s my food:

I ate some, went to the bookstore across the street that my ex-BF Robert manages, grabbed a few books then texted Jeff to cleanse my palate.

I wanted to be back at A Cote with Jeff and my kid. That’s where I was last friday – doing something that made some sense.

Then I showed my kind-of friend Andrew a picture of me and my food at Penrose and he said he would’ve sucked it up and stayed if he were my date.

I love Andrew. He likes to look at me, sometimes. We met on Tinder and never got off the ground. I sublet his house and a whole lotta shit got stirred up because I found out he charged me a lot more than his actual rent and when I balked he called me a swarm of bees. Also, he’s where I found Gucci the neglected pittie living next door. Very complicated background but somehow it is acceptable for me to text him, and he likes to tell me that I’m either brave or beautiful, depending on which I’m being.

Tonight I was both brave and beautiful.

I had a very promising date scheduled and a few hours later found myself dining solo, then walking home with a couple of books under my arm, laughing a little to myself.

Because, can you effin believe it?

I mean, last round of dating I ended up with the guy who’d had his head run over by a bart train (and much more that I can’t say but if you try to imagine how his head got run over, you might have an inkling into the rest of the story)

It was almost like being stood up, only weirder. The weirder is that he didn’t really say he was sorry not to have told me that he wasn’t feeling well.

He just slinked away when I dismissed him.

Andrew asked if I thought he was really sick. Well, it doesn’t really matter. Maybe he was on overdraft and couldn’t afford a drink. Maybe he has social anxiety. Maybe he was actually sick but even so, a normal sick person wouldn’t let you wash your hair and show up – they’d put on their adulting hat and reschedule.

I asked him why he didn’t just reschedule and he said he thought it would be rude.

Yeah, this was so much better.

A decent person would have offered to pay for my meal, or something.

So it looks like I can pretty much do away with the idea that it’s possible to screen anyone before a date.

Each time, it’s gonna be a thorough crap shoot.

Tonight I have another dinner but from here on out I’m going to only do the thirty minute coffee interview.

That was my therapist Cynthia’s suggestion, and why she gets paid the big bucks.

I’ve also rewired myself to only let these guys register on my radar after maybe three or four dates, if things go well. Until then I’m about as invested as I am in going to the dentist. I’ll sit there with my mouth open, but I’m not going to pretend to like it.

I’ll bring my own laughing gas because you need that if you’re going to the dentist.

My kid is coming home tonight so that after my date we can have a drink and watch SNL. He’s having bad luck with a girl he’s trying to date. I told him with our loser luck SNL was probably going to be a rerun.

We sent each other those laughing emojis where there’s tears spraying everywhere.

Pretty much sums things up.

Onward!