Those of you who know me, probably know that I’m a serial dater. I’m 5 feet of hella picky with a dash of easily bored. I’d been on a dating website for years, when I’d get bored or wanted to meet someone new I’d skulk on over and scroll through men. I’d message fifteen or so, because then the odds are greater someone will message back. This is where I find my ex boyfriends. I really should just put up a sign, now seeking the latest ex in my life. The last ex was smart though, he had me take down my dating profile and declare my Facebook for all the world to see. Did I say smart? I meant paranoid and a little psychotic thrown in.
So on to today, I put a new profile back on that dating website. This time I had a picture up that has a fair amount of cleavage. It’s not like I can really hide it, my boobs are as big as my head. My phone has been blowing up with chats, and ‘Wants to meet you’ notifications. I literally am dumbfounded. There are other pictures up that have the same me in them as before, but suddenly because you see two balls of flesh with a line through them, I’m a hot commodity.
I would love to meet that special one someday who understands me and connects with me on levels that others don’t. Im pretty sure it will be pink with pearls and come in a discreetly covered brown box from Adam and Eve. For now i’ll continue my quest with dating. When I do actually meet someone I like, whether its through a friend, a website, or out and about, my inner social geek comes out to play. Its great for first dates, but usually not second date inclusive.
As my son told me, I’m about to be half of 70.
In nine days I will be half of 70.
Ugh, there goes my phone again. Apparently another person likes my boobs. I’m both personally flattered and irritated over this reaction. How unfair is life that I seem to only have one good asset.