My strategy for meeting available men, post-kid, has been *gasp!* an online dating site. The site I chose asks you 3,480,982 questions (stops short of asking if you pick your nose and your preferred position... or did it? It was a long process.) and costs a fair bit to join, by a single MILF's standards. Seems reasonable to believe that paying a sum of money for an introduction - an electronic pimp, I suppose - would eliminate most men without jobs... a good starting point for me.
I didn't count on my feelings of overwhelming obligation to review every match, and the guilt associated with closing them, even the ones I had no contact with. Really, it's not much different than breaking the gaze of an overly friendly man at the supermarket - aside from the fact that at the supermarket, you aren't looking away because his T-shirt says he has 8 children already - the way a profile might. So perhaps it's a tad more judgemental when it's online. Meh. I'm sure there were many men closing me - in fact, I know there were. This site has a lovely feature that shows you who checked you out... letting me know every day how many took a pass. Nice. Build me right up, website. *flips mental bird to site*
Back to the sense of obligation - seriously, I work 8 hours a day, come home, let the dog out, start supper, let the dog in, feed The Girl, do the dishes, clean some (because if I don't clean a little bit every day, I'd be on a TLC show in no time), cuddle The Girl - who is DYING for some one on one by that point, do bath, lay out clothes, get The Girl to bed, shower, laundry?, pack lunch... and then spend an hour on communication with men I may, or may not like? Ohhhh tempting. Just felt like a chore. Until I saw my first "one".
You know. If you've ever tried online dating, it's the picture of the guy that has that smile that makes you smile, has a cute line about how he's a "softie", and you read the profile like, THIRTY times to look for the reason to close him, but don't find it. Yum. I love those. Those "ones".
More on him on Monday. It's the weekend. Wheeeee.
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