Confused Woman!

Well, I’ve just about given up on match.com.  It’s a joke.  If you’re a whore, it’s a great place to meet a guy.  I, however, am looking for relationship with a little more substance than, “Drop ’em”.

Last Friday, my co-workers and I were joking about dating sites when one of them mentioned sugardaddie.com.  He told me it’s a legitimate site that’s been featured on Dr. Phil (like he’s some authority on websites).  Men that are well-off financially use the site to find women to date and hopefully marry.

This was too tempting for me not to investigate.  Curiosity (and a few beers) got the best of me that night and I checked out the site.  There were men from a range of ages (upper 30’s to late 70’s) from all over the country (and even the United Kingdom) who were looking for the woman of their dreams.

I thought, why not create a profile and see what happens?  So, I did just that and waited.  The next day I was surprised (and a little scared) to see a half-dozen responses.  Of course, to read their emails, I’d have to pay for at least one month of membership.

Stupidity ruled over the wallet and I decided to go for it.  So, here I am, a member of sugardaddie.com.  Seriously.

A few of the responses were to place me on their “hotlist”.  Okay, whatever.  Another couple of guys had profiles but no pictures so I immediately deleted them, figuring they’re either cheating husbands or drug dealers.

The two I did read were actually not too bad.  One man was from the Twin Cities, in his late 40’s, single, and well off.  He was looking for someone to have cocktails and dinner with.  So far so good!  If he’s paying, I’m there.  Besides, if he takes me to some swanky place, it will more than pay for the cost of the membership fee.  I responded…haven’t heard back, of course.

The next man was in his late 50’s and lives in Texas.  Two strikes off the bat…old and distance.  However, he seemed very nice, again financially stable, and didn’t look half-bad for an old guy.  I decided to respond and see what he had to say.

He told me how wonderful he is and how he’d show me the world, buy me presents, and treat me like a princess.  Wow, sounds good?  He sent some photos, including one of him in Paris…I’m hooked.

The man said all the right things and sounded nice so I thought, why not, give him a chance.  I responded and sent a couple additional photos of myself.  I’ve heard nothing since.  I’m guessing he probably copy/pasted the letter to ten other women and when my photos didn’t meet his expectations, he moved on.  The dude’s an old fart on sugardaddie.com and you’re judging me?!

So, the site hasn’t quite panned out like I was hoping it would…but it’s been very interesting thus far. Next time, I’ll send some photos from my spring break trip in college and see if I get a response or give them a heart attack.

Well, it’s the first day of spring and it’s frigid.  The weatherman said it’s the coldest first day of spring since 1965.  Great.  Puxatawny Phil can suck it.  I’ve had enough of winter already.

Over the weekend, the weather people kept reminding us last St. Patrick’s Day it was 80 degrees.  It was like they were getting some twisted pleasure out of torturing viewers, reminding us repeatedly how warm it was.  Thanks.  I’m glad you’re getting paid to not only be consistently wrong in your job, but to drive people crazy as well.

We keep hearing over and over about global warming and how the icebergs are melting and polar bears are dying off.  You wouldn’t know that by living in Minnesota!

Since the start of the new year, I’ve tried to eat healthier.  More fruits and veggies and less of the stuff I love (pizza, cheese, bread, beer).  It has not been easy to say the least.  I feel even more pressure now that I’ve signed up for a triathlon.  The exercising has been fairly easy, the food not so much.

I decided I’d try to start eating veggies for some of my meals and trying to avoid lots of carbs.  So, I thought I had a great idea…boil cauliflower and mash it with Laughing Cow wedges and some bacon bits.  It will look just like mashed potatoes and therefore, kill my desire for carbs while fulfilling my vegetable quota.

I then proceeded to boil two heads of cauliflower to make my nice little concoction.  I ate it for dinner Monday night and for lunch and dinner on Tuesday.  Then the pain began.  I didn’t know what was going on but my right side was killing me.

At first I started panicking thinking it’s a gall bladder attack or maybe my appendix is about to burst.  But after a little while, the pain subsided and I just thought it was indigestion.  On Wednesday, after lunch, the pain started again and was worse.  This is it…a gall bladder attack for sure!  I’ll be in the hospital for the weekend….and I have a first date with a really cute guy on Saturday!  Damn it!

I went to Urgent Care and the first thing the doctor asked was what I had to eat the last two days.  When I mention the two heads of cauliflower, she busts out laughing.  Well, I’m thinking, it can’t be my gall bladder and appendix if she’s having this reaction.

She tells me that cauliflower is one of the worst offenders in the food world when it comes to gas.  Yes, my friends, I didn’t have an appointment with a surgeon.  I had extreme gas.  Very comforting and yet disturbing to know.  Nothing a good dose of Milk of Magnesia and some Gas-X can’t cure.

Needless to say…I will not be eating cauliflower anytime soon or be sharing this with my date.

I decided that since I’ve done a mini-triathlon indoors, I am more than ready to take one on outside.  However, I forgot that this did include swimming in a lake.  Now, I’m frightened.

I’ve never been a great swimmer…I can doggie-paddle with the best of them.  That’s why I don’t mind swimming indoors.  The pool has sides and a shallow end if I need to grab on or get out.  It’s kind of like a big (wet) security blanket.

The lake, on the other hand, is a big hole of “who-knows-what” and water.  There are no sides and only a shallow end if I never venture away from shore, which doesn’t work so well in a competitive race.  It’s not clear and (relatively) clean from chlorine.  Lord knows what’s swimming or floating in there or growing on the bottom.  For all I know there’s some mutant gold-fish little Jimmy dumped in there back in 1987 that will take a nip at me and make me its lunch.

Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating just a little bit.  It can’t be that bad, right?  As long as I don’t take in any water I’ll be fine.  It’s not Mexico where the water will give me the runs for a week but who knows?  Perhaps there could be some amoeba that will go up my nose and take over and consume my brain?  As long as the amoeba makes me smarter, it can consume all it wants.

In the end, it probably won’t be the best experience ever but certainly not the worst.  As long as I picture a pool while I’m swimming I’ll be okay.  Well, that and some water wings, a nose plug, and a hazmat suit…

I’ve always been fascinated with cops.  I don’t know if it’s the uniform, the power, or the fact they’re pretty much all hot, I can’t get enough.  I participated in a citizens academy this past winter (my fourth) and I loved it.  In fact, I liked it so much I decided to interview for their police reserves.

It sounded like a lot of fun.  I can help out the hot cops and perform some community service (and maybe get a date or two out of the deal).  I interviewed a couple of weeks ago and it was horrible.  The interview couldn’t have gone any worse.

I walk in to the room and it’s four men in uniform (all not cute…I was robbed) and an employee of the city.  They didn’t seem too unfriendly at first until I was asked to give them my life story in three minutes.  I thought, “This is it, my moment to shine.  I’ll make them laugh.”

The three minutes began with “Once upon a time, I was born on this date at this hospital in Minnesota.  But, you probably already knew that.”  Crickets and stone faces.  You could hear a pin drop.  It was bad.  I’m so used to people laughing or at least smiling that it unnerved me and I became self-conscious and uncomfortable.

Next, the interrogation began.  I was asked why I hadn’t filled out the section of the application where they asked about police interactions.  I mentioned I really hadn’t had any.  I’ve never been arrested and only have had a jaywalking ticket and a few speeding and parking tickets.  I said they are probably off my record, they didn’t agree.

The old crabby uniform told me I’d be surprised what was on my record and they would find out everything.  I told him all of those tickets were back in the 1990’s and I hadn’t had any since.  He questioned me further but at the end mentioned, “Just to let you know, those tickets won’t count against you.”  What?!  Well, then why the hell were you asking me about them if they don’t matter!  Grrr!!

The more they asked me questions and how I would handle situations, the more obvious it was that I didn’t belong there.  The uniforms had zero sense of humor and thought they were the cat’s meow.  Really?  You are reserves….you’re not real cops!  Get over yourselves already!!

Needless to say, I didn’t get a reserve position, which is fine with me.  I’ll stick to drooling over men in uniform versus working with them.  Besides, those navy polyester pants are definitely not slimming nor in style this season.