Sometimes it appears that I’m not a very nice person. To me, I mean. Like I’ll listen to what’s going through my head and I’ll experience this thing where I’ll chastise myself as though I were one of my kids.

Take today’s date, for example. I paid a fortune for this matchmaking service. To anyone who might be considering this: DON’T do it! I have no idea what the fuck those people are thinking, but they are NOT working diligently on helping me find the man of my dreams.

I’m supposed to meet this guy at the cafe in the art museum. I’m trying to have a good attitude, but I’ve had a lot of train wreck dates. I get to the restaurant a few minutes early. I sit outside because it’s a beautiful day. Neither of us have ever seen a picture of the other (I know, I’m an idiot, but I already paid for it). So I text:

I’m outside in front. Blue/green dress

He returns text:

Pls come in. I’m sitting by window.

Two entire sides of the restaurant are completely window, but I’ll let it slide. I walk inside and quickly scan the tables by the windows. I see a man stand up and wave. This is where my inner language starts up:

Evil me: “Oh, fuck! Shit! What the fuck, how can his stomach hang down that far? And why the fuck would you tuck in your shirt and wear a BELT if this were your body?”

Decent me: “Jesus! Don’t be so mean! He’s probably a nice guy.”

Evil me: “Well, what the fuck? This is NOT fair! I TOLD them after the last guy I want someone who at least fucking takes minimal care of himself!”

Decent me: “You’re right. Just eat and get out.”

Whatever. Maybe I’m just not very nice. But seriously, during the 90 minutes of lunch, I learned that this guy must have a fortune somewhere because he doesn’t work and actually spends “almost every waking hour” with attorneys who work with him on legal action against his ex wife. He’s done this for four years. At this time they’re fighting a protection order she seems to have filed against him. Oh, and here’s the best part – she is a nurse who works with Alzheimer’s patients. This man appears to be the fucking Antichrist. A real live Asshole. I no longer feel bad about my horrified reaction to his ugly-ass body.

Oh, and his four adult kids have moved out of state because they apparently “can’t handle” all the legal crap. Go figure.

I never should have pissed off the Matchmaker girl. She’s obviously out to get me now.

But, seriously, she’s an idiot. The first guy she set me up with started CRYING at Outback Steakhouse because his 18 year old daughter RAN AWAY because he required her to be home by 8:00 p.m. on weeknights.

Where do these people COME FROM?

And, more importantly, what about ME made the idiot matchmaker girl think this would be OK?

Single life is looking better and better every day.

One of my big things I decided to do this year is to write something each and every week. You know, so I can be like David Sedaris. Except that I still have to work full time and clean my own house. And I’m not a guy. And I’m single. And some other stuff, but you get the picture.

The first two weeks of the year I posted my stuff on my notes page on Facebook. This weekend, I decided I needed a blog if I wanted to do this thing right. I’d never once read a blog or really knew exactly what one was or what it involved, but it seemed to be the next step. Besides, I have this bizarre personality flaw that keeps me from doing anything on a small scale. It’s helpful sometimes, but most of the time it’s just exhausting.

Like now with this blog stuff. I mean, seriously? Dashboards and widgets and domain names? WTF? I didn’t know I’d have to pick THEMES and shit. And read a bunch of crap to figure out how to actually post stuff.

But it’s all good. I’ll figure it out. I always do. Seriously. I’m not kidding.