Why didn’t *I* think of that?

If you’ve been a reader on my site for any amount of time, you know that I’ve had a sundry of dates, many of which should really be blogged about repeatedly lest you forget that in a one week’s time I dated a gay anorexic (who had a list on his fridge with his weight two times a day and only kept water at home), a cat abuser and a guy who told me I could be a plus-sized model.

IN. ONE. WEEK.

There’s, of course, a multitude of others that are seriously so atrocious that I didn’t think that they deserved my time nor energy to even relate them here, but take my word for it: I’d win an award for a handful of them.

(Ok, Ok…just one here to humor you…there once was the blind date that leaned in for the kiss, opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue STICK STRAIGHT, shoved it in my mouth and then turned his head side to side in an effort to french kiss me. He had rigor mortis of the tongue and Tourettes of the head, I swear. ICK – get the shivers just thinking about that. Moving on.)

So suffice it to say that the girl who has been dumped via both email and IM (still waiting on that post-it) would have a few dating stories in the bag should she be prompted to spill the beans. I’ve long thought about starting an anonymous blog posting about the ridiculousity of my life but really, I don’t think anyone would believe me. Still, it’s been a temptation for quite some time, even if just to recount the tales of dating gone bad — WAY bad. Novel idea, right?

So I thought. Looks like I’m too late – A friend of a friend has already blogged about it on his site  "The Sport of Dating" (52dates.blogspot.com). I can’t wait to meet this guy in person this
weekend to swap a few stories because really, the very existence of the site has made this a ‘been there, shoulda done that’ sort of post.

Shame, actually. I know you would have loved the one about the identical twin…

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