Very Bad Ideas

Last weekend (before the plague kept me on the couch), my Aunt Theresa told me that I should have a baby because my mom deserves a grandchild.  Out of the blue.  My response was "I probably need a husband first" to which she replied "nah, that can come later"  WHAT?!  I said that wasn't happening until I could be a stay at home mom (a recent shift in my thinking... but I HATE going to the office) and then proceeded to chug the remainder of my beer (something I couldn't do if knocked up) Seriously, the last thing I thought I be having a conversation about.

I am not arguing my mom's grandparenting credentials, she (and dad) would be great.  Hell, she would probably move into my 2nd bedroom for shits and giggles.  However, I am well aware of my biological clock and the realities of being past "peak gestational age" by the time all this crap comes around but I would be a horrible single mom... Plus, there is the issue of who the F would knock me up... I mean, one night stands are not great father material but it can't be someone I know, I don't want all that drama!  Also, if we get over that hurdle, I am pretty sure finding a husband "later" will be exponentially harder.  I mean, guys who are willing to raise someone else's kid are hard to find, especially when you explain that you don't know the father's last name because you were on an anonymous sex mission to give your mom a bastard grandchild.  Plus, I know I will not be a cute pregnant person who looks the same except for a basketball in front.  No, I will be gianter (a new word!) all over... and likely never fully recover which will make my husband prospects even slimmer.

So... moral of the story is that I am well aware of hurdling toward 30 with no signs of being an actual adult and I am working on it.  

I'm ready to drown my singleness in stuffing and gravy!

Happy Thanksgiving Eve! One thing I am thankful for this year is a new job with people, casual Fridays and an office with a window. Moving on up!

Now, for the "really important matters" ie. my dating (or lack thereof) life:

My friend Becky facilitated a meeting with a friend of theirs. Sometimes it's a match, sometimes it's a drunken hookup. I chose door number 2. oops.

In non-slutty news, I had been emailing back and forth with this guy on Match.com for a few weeks. He seemed pretty normal (even if his replies were one GIANT paragraph, I was trying to not be petty). We exchanged numbers, texted during the day, talked on the phone a few times, good and good. I mean, he seemed a bit flaky and a little conceited (I don't need to know your salary range... but maybe some girls do) We had plans to meet in Royal Oak last Wednesday. He called that afternoon to say a work meeting came up and was super apologetic and asked to reschedule to Sunday. Fine, works for me. We continue to text and all that jazz - "see you Sunday" blahblahblah.

So Sunday rolls around and he was supposed to be done with whatever brought him to my side of town by 2. I haven't heard anything so I text him around 1:30 with "Are we still on for today?" I proceed to take a shower, find something cutish to wear, straighten my hair and put on makeup. I NEVER GET A F'ING RESPONSE. Really?! Did you die?! I don't get it. And people wonder why I am pessimistic! This dating shit royally blows.

And finally, my dear friend told me that she gave my number to a coworker. Uh... seems like something you may want to run by me first but... I guess I have nothing to lose. Upsides that I have gathered: he doesn't live at home, he lives close to me, he likes beer and sports.

Ok, over and out.