Truth in advertising.

So, I got yet another text from Second Chance Guy. This one was all, Did I remember to say 'fuck!' last night? Because if I didn't, then 'fuck!' :)

Umm? It's called bowing out gracefully. You might look into it.

Tonight I am exhausted and lounging about at home. Two dates down this week ... two more to go before the weekend is up. Yikes.

Alice and Jake were very interested to hear about last night's adventures in dating. I ended up on their speakerphone, getting dating guidance and laughing my ass off.

We determined that really, I have three big requirements for a beau:

1. He must think I hung the moon.


2. He must be gainfully employed and relatively content in his life.


3. He must have car seats that adjust. Because I am short.

Then there was talk about my drunken doctor friend, which led to a discussion about the pros and cons of requiring a man be able to hold is liquor. Or at least not get thrown out of events due to inebriation.

This, of course, led us to the real, down-and-dirty, dealbreaker questions.

• Would you date someone just because they were hot?


• Are you willing to date someone with a disability? If so, what types of disabilities are ok? Dyslexia? Missing a limb?


• Can you deal with someone who doesn't wear deodorant?

These are the judgments people have but don't speak of openly, or even admit. But they are there.

Then we really got into it. Why isn't there a Cut the Crap dating site? People are brutal on hotornot.com - so why not push it beyond looks and get down to the real stuff? Why isn't there a dating site that asks these questions?

• Would you date someone who is gay just to have a child?


• Would you marry someone so they could get a green card? Would the person have to be physically attractive?


• If you had a prescription for Vicodin, would you share with your partner?


• If your partner had a prescription for Vicodin, how upset would you be if he or she wouldn't share?

Ok, those last two had us rolling on the floor. We are upstanding citizens and don't abuse prescription drugs. But let's move past the tired "boxers or briefs" and "her mother is a witch" stereotypes and get down to business. Let's have a dating service that requires recent photos of parents so that you know what you'd be in for in 30 years. Let's ask all the politically incorrect and socially uncomfortable questions. Can you handle someone who clips their nails in bed but couldn't possibly live with a mate who drinks out of the milk carton? Have we got a match for you!

It makes me want to create a new dating profile, or maybe even my own site - datechacha.com.

High-maintenance SWF seeks SWM with dental insurance

I'm 33. Never married, although I lived with a man for five years, so that might make me a harlot. No kids. Two dogs. The dogs are the kids. I don't really have a biological clock.

I have dry skin and need someone to put lotion on my back. This is my real reason for looking for a mate.

I drink out of the milk carton. My dogs shed. I keep a cluttery house, am a good singer, and give preferential treatment to beaus with lakefront property. When I get angry, I stick out my chin, but if you ever call me on it, I will hate you forever. I fart. I'm a good cook. I cuss too much and get annoyed with biblical and/or Jesusy references.

My mate can leave the toilet seat up but absolutely cannot under any circumstances use all the hot water. Smoking and drugs are dealbreakers, as is being rude to retail clerks and waitstaff. Bad fashion sense is ok if you let me help you. Wearing a Bluetooth all the time is not ok - it's just assholey.

Oh, and I like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. You know the drill.

Ok to contact about marrying for a green card: No
Ok to contact about dating gay to have a baby: No
Ok to contact about sharing prescription drugs: No

What sort of dealbreaker info am I missing?

Brutal.

Yesterday, the lovely Andi commented on my near-miss with the beagle: I promise to stay at two dogs if YOU promise to stay at two dogs. Anymore than that and we're on that slippery slope to Old Maid-ville.

Mmm ... Old Maid-ville. I don't know if I mind that cozy little town. The food is good, the pantyhose are nonexistent and I just might be living there anyway.

But Cha Cha - why?

Sigh.

Tonight I went out for a second date with the guy who begged me via text message to give him another chance.

He started out dinner by announcing that he had three very important questions for me. The first was about whether I thought love developed or if it was something you just knew right away. The second concerned my thoughts on whether or not my run of heartbreak was causing me to build up walls around my heart. And the third? I think it had to do with whether or not I was in love with Mr. Interwebnets. I don't remember.

Oh, Second Chance Guy. No, no, no. Keep it light! Keep it gay!

Then he told me about the three (yes, really, THREE) match dates he had last week - in detail. I think the point was to be all, "And none of them compared to you." But really? Really, it was more like The Love Connection if Chuck Woolery had been an actuary.

Dinner took more than two hours. We talked about movies. I tried, people. Really, I did.

He walked me to my car, and then asked if he could just ask me a favor: what did I think?

Sadly, the parking garage did not collapse right then. So I said, "I think you're great. But I think we're friends."

Which then led to a 10-minute conversation (one-sided) about how bummed he was, and how glad he was that I was honest, but really? Really, we weren't going to be friends. Because that's not the way it works. And he was just really bummed.

And I felt like a total evil wench.

We shook hands. He wished me luck. I drove off.

And when I got home, he'd sent me a text asking if I got home ok. I replied that I did, and thanked him for spending time with me.

Then, he responded with this text: I asked god last Saturday at about 5:15 to open ur heart 2 me and to lay his hands on our hearts if we are 2 be together. Minutes later u texted.

Dude. I can't kindly tell you that we aren't a love connection without you getting all biblical on me? Seriously?

I'm tempted to text back: God told me I can do better.

But I won't. Because I feel guilty that Second Chance Guy bought me dinner, only to get dissed. And really? Really, I am a nice person. I swear.

The people have spoken.

And they have demanded beagle pics. Who am I to deny them?

Behold the cuteness!

Yes, Foxie Doxie and Lil' Frankfurter are really, really glad that this guy found his family. I guess I am, too. I would have needed a bigger a bed.

Not my problem.

My theme for 2009 has been faith. Today was evidently Two-fer Tuesday in the Hey, God's Got It Under Control Department.

Best Proof God Doesn't Give You More Than You Can Handle
I had a near-miss today.

See, Alice found a dog. A beagle puppy. With no collar and no microchip.

Alice and Jake are remodeling. They can't take in a new dog.

I begrudgingly told her to call me if the puppy's parents didn't turn up. Then, I found myself rationalizing it during various meetings today. Foxie Doxie goes with the flow. And Lil' Frankfurter? He weighs seven whole pounds - he's really more of an overgrown gerbil than a dog. It would be the morally responsible thing to do to take in this dog. And having three dogs isn't like having 27 cats. I could, in theory, still date.

And then? Then, Alice found the puppy's parents.

Whew.

Best Proof God Has a Wicked Sense of Humor
So, sometimes I pray for patience, right?

At the end of a long day, I spent my evening at the meeting of a philanthropy. I listened politely to the woman who gave a meandering report during which she corrected herself, backtracked and finally admitted she didn't know what she was talking about. I just wanted to go home and put on my pajamas. But instead, I listened attentively. And I managed not to roll my eyes later when a woman proudly exclaimed that she is taking a computer class. She had just one question for the group: What's a blog? And does it have anything to do with "The Internet?"

The ensuing explanation took a mere 13 minutes and included directions on how to connect to this mythical "The Internet."

Oh, God. You are soooooo funnnnnnneeeeeeee.

I like Monday - canine edition.

The Geriatric Poodle had a long love affair with Camelia, the fleece camel. He carried her around everywhere and would often sit contentedly, gumming her grey, matted fleece and sighing with delight.

For Foxie Doxie, it's Atomic Bunny.
She's in his kennel all the time, although he's not psychotic about it or anything. Far be it from Foxie to get all wrapped up in a woman like that.
They have an understanding.

And Lil' Frankfurter? Well, in the three months he's ruled our household, he's destroyed many, many toys. Searching for The One? It ain't easy.
But, Lil' Frank has finally found love.
No, that's not a pregnancy test. It's a toothbrush. Or, rather, The Toothbrush.

Lil' Frank confiscated it when I was cleaning the bathroom. Now? They are inseparable.
The Toothbrush can withstand Lil' Frank's abuse. And Lil' Frank feels virtuous carrying The Toothbrush around the house like a prize.

I draw the line at allowing The Toothbrush in the bed. But other than that?

Whatever, dude. Whatever makes you happy. Just don't eat it, ok?

I wear a 6.5B.

So, after receiving more text messages from the guy from match, including one where he said his niece really wanted me to go out with him again, I agreed. I told him I'd do it for the children.

I neglected to mention that you all voted and I heeded your call. That seems like more of a third date conversation. "Uh, yeah. I don't make any major life decisions without input from my blog readers."

It'll just be our little secret, m'kay? Thank you for your kind words!

So, I went on a sixth date with Mr. Interwebnets last night. During that date, I received two text messages and one voicemail - from three different guys from match. Now, don't worry - I only checked my phone after the date. I'm not totally uncouth. But I'm a bit befuddled - Mr. Interwebnets told me that after our first date (yes, a month ago), he'd had a first date scheduled with another woman from match. And he'd cancelled it, based on our great first date.

Meanwhile, my jaw was on the ground and my phone was vibrating away in my purse.

I am not this coordinated. And I'm not a hussy. I'm terrified.

I truly like Mr. Interwebnets. I am totally the dude in this relationship, though - he's all "I am so happy!" and I'm all "I like you, but don't ask too much about what I'm doing Wednesday night."

I feel bad. But at no point has there been any conversation about exclusivity. And this is the first time in my life (with the exception of those six days in college) when I've truly played the field. It's pretty fun.

But mostly? Mostly, I'm terrified that the more Mr. Interwebnets gets to know me, the closer we get to That Thing That Will Make Him Realize He Doesn't Like Me - whatever that is. And I'm terrified that that's my focus, not, oh, say, figuring out how I feel about him. I'm terrified that as he was saying all these nice things to me last night, my gut reaction was "Ok, how am I supposed to act now?" Like I'm a show dog or something.

Or maybe one of those monkeys who play the cymbals. You know, the ones who wear fezzes?

Anyway. I think I'm looking at this all sorts of wrong. I shouldn't be looking at it as what's expected of me, and how everybody else feels. I need to be looking at it as me, shopping. Which, really, I'm rather skilled at, especially if we're talking shoes. I need to be drawing from my natural talents and apply them to this situation.

So, basically, I'm trying on shoes.

Vote early and vote often!

So. Text messaging totally changes dating.

The guy I went out with once last week? And then told he was awesome, but more awesome for someone else?

He texted me yesterday: RU sure we're not a match? Bc I just sat thru like my third uncomfortable match date since what i thought was a very comfortable time with U

Hmm.

I responded today: 3 dates in a week? Damn, playa! I do think we are friends ... otherwise we'd kill each other. As your friend, I will suggest you change your match pic - youre much cuter than that :)

Really?

Yup.

Hmm. Well, thank U 4 the suggestion ... I'll see what I can do. But yeah these bad dates are killing me. I've only had one that I've actually enjoyed!

But 3 dates in a week? You must be doing something right. Look at it as practice.

I must be - and that's with my current pic. Practice schmatice ... I've already met the coolest funniest and attractive chick

And then? I didn't respond. I've been in meetings allllll damn day. He kept texting, though.

Text 5: Could I get a second chance if I agreed to babysit your dogs while u go out on a date? Wait ... scratch that ... bad idea. What if I offered to take them to the dog park?

Text 6: U could even come along!

Text 7: Ok, how about a Smithwick's at a local bar? Or dinner at your fav restaurant? I could bust out my A game. And I could pay U to go. Wait ... scratch that.

Ok, kids. Worth a second chance? Or just getting scary? It's the end of a long week and my decisionmaking skillz are worn thin.