April 7, 2014

• Grading on a curve

  One thing should be abundantly clear by now:  I am not good at dating.

  I didn't mean to let all the kids grow up without dads, I didn't!

  Oh Frank is "around," doing the Monday eves and every other weekend non-custodial parent gig.  Yay for Norway.

  But Jesus, I just looked away for a second and now there's Stan away in college and Ollie an inch taller than I . . . both accelerating rapidly past the point of finding any relevance at all in a father figure.

  I always thought I'd meet someone.

  I also always thought Stan/Ollie dads would return -- not for a relationship with me, but just to investigate this independently walking talking part of their DNA.

  I do try.  Just last week, I asked Handsome Clever Bob to a university lecture.  (He was too busy with work.)

  And my teacher friend (who only wants sex, and is neither handsome, nor clever) is almost always available, but . . . .

  Really, what's called for here is a giant shout-out to my 20-year-old self:

  HEY.  DON'T BE SO GADDAMNED PICKY.

  OH AND, BTW, HORMONAL TYPES OF BIRTH CONTROL DON'T WORK FOR YOU.  JSYK.  (HAHA, YOU ARE THE 1%... THAT JOKE WILL BE FUNNY IN 2013)

  OH, ONE MORE THING?  GO AHEAD AND BUY THAT BERKSHIRE STOCK.

   

  • 2:48 pm
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