Here's something you don't know about me: Although I can't keep a relationship going for more time than it takes a dairy product to expire in a poorly sealed fridge, all of my formers come back eventually. Before you accuse me of vanity, let me assure you that I don't think that this reflects well on me. I mean, I'd like to think it's cuz I'm so hot that all the color goes right out of life when I'm not around. But I suspect that the real situation is that I'm a big, big sucker, and boys can smell it.
One of the problems we face in this mockery that we call dating life in the early 21st century is that boys have so many technologies at their disposal when they want to drop in on you once again. They can Google you, and find out where you're living or working or at the very least, how to contact you via e-mail. They can dig up your blog or your livejournal or your company Web site and figure out your IM and start sending you cowardly electronic pleas for forgiveness and renewed friendship.
It's been a busy year for me and the Boy-Go-Round, but I've developed a good attitude toward it now. Instead of moaning and groaning about why the boys keep going away and popping back up again, I'm starting to look forward to seeing which one of them will appear next. I'm thinking of starting a betting pool. Who wants in?
* (tm) Isaac Canney, one of the good ones. You can tell he's a good one, because I've never dated him. Ha! Ha ha ha! Sob. But seriously. He came up with Wheel of Dicks and it was so funny that I stole it from him. But now I'm telling you that I stole it, which makes this not stealing, but collaboration.
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Try googling "Bob Smith", press the "I'm feeling lucky" button and see how far you get in finding me, tee hee (but definitely check out the site that pops up -- it belongs to one of the other Bob Smiths who shares the screen with me in the forthcoming documentary "I AM BOB SMITH"). . . maybe you should ask him to be your date to the ten year -- when people ask, you can tell them Bob Smith is your date, not the former fascist drunkard we all remember, mind you, but the "Normal" Bob Smith. . .
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