I don’t mean I’M a triathlete for heavens sake. If I were my events would be tripping, drinking and laughing. And the only awards that come from those three are when I make it home safely without injuring (or offending) myself or those around me. However, one of the men I met last night at the singles event that I went to *gag* was a triathlete. And hasn’t been to a bar in 3 years. And is an engineer. And is very competitive. And used to weigh 315 lbs. And now weighs 195. And has 5% body fat. And is all about training for whatever race is being held that week anywhere in the world. And shares the same name as TD. Yes, I know all of this from the short conversation I had with him. Want to know what he knows about me? That would be nothing because all he did was talk about himself. He never even asked my name. What a tool.
So yes, I went to a singles event with my ever optimistic and awesome friend (you know, the one I picked up speed dating last year?). We challenged each other to talk to strangers and mingle. Not all that easy for wallflowerish types. I did okay. I talked to the tall, conceited triathlete. I talked to the very nice (and very short) man next to me. I talked to a darling guy who was much too young for me. I talked to a matchmaker that sponsored the event and works in town (more on her later). When it was J’s turn to talk to strangers we took a trip around the bar and we ended up next to 2 guys sitting outside. And then decided not to talk to them. When we went back inside she bee-lined for 2 very cute guys. 2 very cute guys who couldn’t have been older than 25. Who knew she was a cougar? ;-p
We had several short and/or inappropriate men come up and talk to us and all in all it was a fun time, but neither of us met anyone good. For us. And isn’t that the point?
So about this matchmaker……she works with single successful men in town and keeps a database of all sorts of women. So I filled out an online application/profile/whore-me-out form and submitted it the previous night. It took forever to fill out, but if it lands me a date with a great guy, then it’s all worth it, right? So I go up to her and introduce myself and tell her that I filled out one of her applications the night before and she says she didn’t get it. Boo. And gave me her card and told me to call her today so she could double check. And asked how old I was. And what age range I was looking in. And then told me that I was wrong. What? ‘Guys don’t date older’ is what she said. Uhm, okay 😦 When I said 52 as my ‘cap’ on geriatricness (yes, a Grey Goose original word) she told me I need to go up to 55. WHAT? That’s 9 years older than me! And while I don’t kid myself that I look 25 anymore, I really don’t want to end up with some old wrinkled fuddy duddy. She said that online, I’m probably not attracted to the 55 year olds because they all lie and are even older than that. Huh.
Anyway, the best part of the night was hanging out with J. And the yummy lemon drop martinis. 🙂