Nothing new to report on the dating front. I'm still waiting for that one woman to jump out of the pack and make an impression on me, or for any I've contacted to write back, or...well, something. I go through this every six months or so, and it becomes the same game each time. I lose more and more of my nerve to date when I got through this. It's disappointing in some ways, and it does affect my own confidence in myself, to some degree, to the point that I become too intimidated to contact some of these women who really seem to know what they want, to the exclusion of anyone else. I understand that they probably get flooded with unwanted attention from guys who absolutely do not meet their criteria, but sometimes they scare away guys who may come close, but due to the way the write their profile, I'm not sure I'd even want to try.
I went on a date a few years ago with a girl on a dating site where the young lady went on a rant about how every guy she went out with ended up not being her type. I looked over her profile and she had set no criteria for the type of guy she wanted to date. It was, pretty much, if you've got a pulse and hair, you're good to go. But that wasn't good enough for her once she got you out on a date. She never told me that I didn't fit her criteria, but I didn't go on a second date with her.
It's true that you need to really specify what kind of person you're looking for on these sites. It makes finding someone a bit easier. But there are still those people who truly believe they fit that criteria when they don't, and test the water anyway. So I guess it's okay to be picky in your profile write ups. And then, if you get past the "bouncer" at the door, maybe you'll really make a connection.
And maybe I'll win the next PowerBall lottery without buying a ticket.
Faithful Pup Scout returned home this morning after almost a week with my parents. I really missed her. I don't like to admit that to loudly. Scout is a cute little 10-pound white ball of fur of Maltese pup, and she is hardly the epitome of a manly dog. I always tell people she's my wife's dog, which is true. Teresa wanted a Maltese after meeting my Aunt's two Maltese pups before we got married, and after we bought our first home, we brought Scout home. Teresa died a little over two years later, and Scout became MY dog. And she loves me, just as much as I love her. She's a comfort to me. She's getting up there in age, and she's having her issues. She doesn't get around very well, and she sleeps most of the time. But she has her routines and she definitely is happier here at home than when she's elsewhere. Though she is content to be at my parent's, she tends to mope and act sad when she's with them. Then she goes nuts when she sees me after we've been apart for awhile. She was noticeably happy to be home today. And I was happy to have her.
I used to enjoy my Fridays at work, but tomorrow is just another in a string of stressful week ending days at the office. I don't like to go into details about my job here on the blog, but I will say that my level of responsibility has greatly increased in recent days, and some of the issues I'm dealing with have taken me way out of my comfort zone. That said, tomorrow I have to lead a large group of employees through a planning session that I have very little knowledge about, and I will be put on the spot. That's never easy, and being the introvert that I am, I'm not looking forward to it. So I've spent the afternoon worrying, which is stupid, I know, since there's nothing I can do about it right now. I keep trying to come up with ways I can get out of it that don't involve bodily harm to myself, or require me to lie, which I refuse to do ("My dog ate my homework" just won't cut it). So it looks like I'm on the hook. I hope the weekend provides relief.
With that, I hope you all have a wonderful evening. Good night!
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