Yes That's All There Is, by Doris

Back in November, Rock approached me about embarking on a dating odyssey and blogging about it. Little did I know this was a trick to get me to, you know, date.

And it worked. Rock, you are a coy bastard.

I'm not ending the six months with a boyfriend, or even a boy toy. But I am ending with a new freedom.

I haven't forgotten Excalibur. I still miss him sometimes. Maybe that will never fully go away.

I still don't know what will happen with Jim Berger. I'm attracted and he's fun, but he's also hot-and-cold and I'm not sure if it's worth the drama. As of now, it's still very much will-they-or-won't-they? And I'm okay with that.

I've been stood up. I've dated guys I shouldn't be dating. I've lusted after coworkers, had ex run-ins, drunk texts and awkward phone calls, and I still don't know whether finding The One will ever be a priority for me.

I've also found the freedom to openly write about my past, which had been an issue for me. And I've found my writing (both on this blog and in other outlets under my real name) has an honesty it's previously lacked.

So thank you. For reading, for commenting, for being in the dating trenches with Rock and me.

This morning on my Facebook feed, there was a quote from The L Word: "And as they say, men come and go, but your friends are forever."

With friends like Rock, I'll never be alone.

Be well, in love and in life.

Au revoir,

Doris

Welp, this is it..., by Rock

Here we are. Six months have flown by, and our experiment is over. I'm a little bummed that the "narrative flow" of our journals haven't ended up in giant revelations or last-act surprises reserved for fiction, but I look at everything that the two of us have learned and I'm satisfied nonetheless.

For the first time in my adult life, having a man is not a priority. Gone are weeks of having three first dates in the span of seven days, with the fear that if I wasn't out there, I would miss my Mr. Right. Gone are not-so-great connections where I'm afraid to end it because I need to be nice. I'm really at a point in my life where I'm focused on me, and it feels good.

Noah Wyle and I are still seeing each other. We're both extremely busy, we both need a small escape from our schedules which we find in each other, and because of our circumstances (I don't know where I'll be going to school, he doesn't know where he'll be doing his residency), there's a small detachment that I believe is on both of our parts and it feels safe. We don't have a label, I don't want a label, we haven't talked about a label, and that feels good.

But thanks for coming along for the ride and checking out our narcissistic self-analyzing. I wish you the best, I wish us the best. Peace out.

Oh Happy Day, by Doris

After four months on OKCupid, I have to say, I'm discouraged by what I see.

I mean, really. Married dudes who pull disappearing acts! Rent-star look-alikes with funny voices and awkward demeanors! Hipsters upon hipsters upon hipsters, some of whom wear purple pants!

That's not to say my offline life's any better. I mean, I've got ex run-ins in the supermarket parking lot, good on paper platonic pals, and crushes on friends' former lovers!

Between walled-up preppies, dudes who text mid-date, and faux Spaniards, Rock's fed up too.

So we made it official.

Last night, Rock and Doris flew to Vegas and got married.

To each other.

We will enjoy a long sexless life of brunches, showtunes, white wine and well-decorated apartments.

Cue the Mendelsohn!

Ron and Tammy, by Doris

If only I'd remembered my hat.

If only I hadn't realized it minutes before our bus was scheduled to arrive.

If only Rock weren't such a good friend that he trekked back to the theatre with me.

If only the hat wasn't in the first floor office and we would have had to go upstairs to find it, making us miss the bus we ended up taking.

If only I hadn't expressed an urge for hard liquor at the end of a long week.

If only we'd taken a different street to the grocery store and arrived a few minutes earlier or later.

If only I'd decided to go home rather than to Rock's.

If only any of these had happened, I wouldn't have had the Excalibur Encounter.

Oh yeah, and one more:

If only my Excalibur intuition weren't so goddamn strong.

I don't know if I believe in psychics, but I do believe in intuition/wavelength. Sometimes when I spend a lot of time around a person, I develop it. I've got countless examples of this where Rock is concerned.

With Excalibur, I always knew when he was going to say something big, or something I wasn't going to like. The air changed, buzzed so only I could hear.

And in the milliseconds before, when Rock and I were crossing the parking lot, I thought his name.

Only to look up from underneath my hat and see him.

(My hands-down favorite episode of the wildly underrated Parks and Recreation is last season's episode "Ron and Tammy." Not only are Nick Offerman and his real-life wife Megan Mullally brilliant, it has a great message that exes are exes for a reason. Anyway, there's a moment when Ron is going on about his own Evil Ex and suddenly, unprompted, he stands up, looks around and goes, "She's here, isn't she?" Well, this was my Ron and Tammy moment.)

I saw his eyes. I recognized the coat. I know it was him.

We didn't make eye contact, didn't say a word, didn't even physically run into each other.

I was with Rock, whom he knows and would recognize, but there was no acknowledgment of Rock either.

Oh, and he was with a girl who I assume is the girlfriend. I didn't get a good look at her. It felt like an invasion somehow, and anyway I was hustling for the entrance.

As we wandered down the produce aisle, Rock asked, "Do you want to leave?"

My eyes were shifting back and forth, my head swiveling almost 360 degrees.

"I don't want to, because what if they're still out there at the Redbox? Let's do a lap."

As we selected what we came for--frozen hangover food for Rock, chips and whiskey which I now REALLY needed for me--Rock was my rock. He checked down every aisle to make sure they weren't there. He reassured me that Excalibur hadn't actually seen me, and that he could have said hi if he did.

We never saw them again.

Back at Rock's apartment, I proceeded to drive my best friend crazy when all he wanted to do was fix potato skins and turn on the TV.

"Do you think he saw me?"

"No? Are you sure?"

"Well, at least I look good. Right?"

"I just couldn't do it, Rock. It's been too long of a week, and I didn't want to have an awkward conversation while you and the girlfriend were just standing there or whatever. And not two weeks ago I emailed the guy saying I didn't want to talk to him for a while. Oh yeah, and . . ."

"Doris. Chug your drink and stop rationalizing." Again, my voice of reason, now calmly popping potato skins in the oven.

"I know, I know, I'm being neurotic. I'll shut up in three minutes, I swear." I went into his bathroom, sat on the toilet and cracked the door just enough that we could keep talking. I didn't want any silence at that moment.

"You can talk about it, but you don't need to justify. I would have told you if I thought he had seen you. I would have told you if I thought saying hi was necessary. I really, really don't think he saw you. If he did, he could have said hi too, you know. I get you're weirded out. Just don't feel like you had to force an interaction you didn't want to have."

Friends, the boy has been talking like this since he was in high school. I think it was all the O.C. he watched.

So I did one last thing before we settled in to watch Australian comedy and pig out: I checked my phone. No text. No email.

Either he was abiding by my "no contact, please" edict, or he really didn't see me.

Thank God.

Oh, and here's the song I listened to this morning to wash the ex encounter taste out of my mouth. Nothing like rapping along with Nicki Minaj to make everything better.

It's All Good, by Doris

Image via Zeitgeist World

Recently, a reader complained to me about our blog's tagline: "a girl, her gay, and six months of online dating."

The complaint addressed the fact that no human being owns anyone else, so I most definitely do not own Rock, and therefore he is not "my gay."

Valid logic.

I will say that I've always hated the whole "gay boyfriend" trend, because I feel it's genuine friendships relegated to some kind of fashion accessory for a neurotic woman who can't get any. For this reason, I was never a fan of Will and Grace. Also, that new show Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys just looks insulting to me. Especially when the chick whines in the preview, "you're marrying another guy? It should be meeeeee!"

No.

Were I ever to get married, qualification #1 for my husband is WANTING TO HAVE SEX WITH ME.

For the record, Rock is my best friend. He's been my best friend since two years before he came out of the closet. He's my best friend because we share many passions and values, we have a similar worldview, and most importantly, we have a hell of a lot of fun together.

This is why all my friends are, in fact, my friends. Gay, straight, bi, whatever. I don't regard anyone as my accessory, and while I may be neurotic, that's neither here nor there.

(Plus, I can and do get some.)

Most of all, lovely readers--and we appreciate all of you, we just wish you'd comment more!--I want to assure you that our apparently controversial tagline?

Was the brainchild of none other than the "gay" in question.

Yup, it was Rock's idea.

More Fun With Messages!, by Doris

While Rock's been in woo woo loveland with 2.0, I have been messaged by various jackasses on the ol' OKC. Why is it that every dude who deigns to message me first is so repugnant?

He said:

hows my future wifey doing besides gorgeous? :-) [sic]

I said:

Trying to decide which is more horrifying: your lack of apostrophes or your use of the word "wifey."

He said:

why did i want . . . to scream "hooray for boobies" when i viewed your profile . . . oh yeah that's right ;)

I said:

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

Good luck finding someone that actually works on.

NOTE TO MEN ON OKCUPID: Cutesy-pie emoticons do not excuse bad punctuation/grammar, sexual harassment, or the word "wifey." Come ON.

Well, New Year's Eve is upon us: hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday. Come tomorrow, I'll be the gal at yoga class with a genuine grin on my face, because I have this to come home to:

OK, on the Inception DVD. Still counts!

Speaking of cuties on film, this video goes out to a very special gay who just got laid. Rock-N-Rolla (see what I did there?), this is for you.

Sooner or Later It Comes Down to Fate, by Doris

So I have a date on Thursday.

Rivers-a-like of the suburban address and the occasional affinity for top 40 music (which we initially bonded over, I HATE the hipsters that blindly denigrate good pop songs, ditto for hipsters that declare Saturday Night Live hasn't been funny since the Carvey years) is going to be in my neighborhood to see a concert. As I wanted to have some sort of date before the year ended - and I'm not touching New Year's Eve with a ten-foot pole, WORST time for a first date ever - we have decided to have drinks before the show.

I think this is good for several reasons. Rock usually advises against drinks on the first date (a rule that he admittedly has broken many times), but in my case there's a timeline. Only so much alcohol you can pound in an hour/90 minutes or so. Plus, we're going to a really lovely cafe/bar type place, aaaaand I have a cool new outfit which includes a gorgeous lace skirt I got on the Target clearance rack for $8.50!

So even if the date sucks, I will look very pretty.

It's funny, I think my family (while home at Christmas, I tried to just tell my sister, but my mom overheard) and friends (my two closest work pals, who helped me pick out the cafe/bar) are more excited about this than I am. Quite frankly, my expectations aren't that high.

As I've said before, I'm not terribly keen to date someone who doesn't live in the city. Should this work out, I'm keeping my OKCupid profile and pursuing other dudes. Rock and 2.0 are emotionally involved now, and good for them. I'm interested to see this relationship unfold, and I really hope it works out as I like 2.0.

However, I was emotionally involved with Excalibur for fourteen years, up until just a couple of months ago. My family still hates him--I can tell by the way they very deliberately did NOT say his name this weekend. I don't hate Excalibur. He didn't do anything wrong.

But I don't want to jump into another big thing right away. My heart needs a little rest. My mind needs a little fun.

And my body could use a little something else. Don't know if we'll get to that on Thursday. After all, Rivers-a-like has a concert to go to.

Little Boxes, by Doris

So last night I took Rock's advice and tried to score a date. As in, meeting face to face, seeing if the energy I'm feeling online is there in person. One of my OKCupid cuties is mired in final exams this week (as he told me in a very sweet "I haven't forgotten you" note last Sunday), so I a) don't want to bother him during a stressful time, and b) do want to wait until he responds to me as promised. See what an awesome non-stalker I'm being?

In the meantime, there's another dude. Brown hair, glasses--fair warning to all guys with brown hair and glasses in my city, I WILL most likely message you at some point. This one's sort of Rivers Cuomo-esque (and I've always had a thing for Rivers, despite the many accounts that he's a total douche). Rivers-a-like and I have a good rapport online, so last night I bit the bullet and asked him to coffee, during one of the random times I have free this weekend (thank you, holidays).

Then it got complicated.

It's not that Rivers-a-like isn't up for coffee. He is.

However . . .

He doesn't live in the city. Due to various personal reasons, he's currently in a suburb about an hour west.

Now, he didn't exactly lie about this. Plus, I believe OKCupid pulls up every possible match in a 25-mile range. I never explicitly asked him, "do you live in the city?" I assumed it because his handle denotes a city address, but we all know that to assume is to make an ass out of u and me (cliche, yes, but it's proven true too many times to count).

And he was very sweet and apologetic, saying that if this is a dealbreaker for me, he understands. He is in the city most weekends and often a few times a week. He just wanted it out there before we actually met.

I remembered a similar thing happening to Rock. Only in Rock's case, the guy waited until after their first date to drop the S bomb, which I always thought was kind of a red flag.

So I told Rivers-a-like that it wasn't a dealbreaker, as long as he was in the city regularly. I also told him that due to a major car accident a few years ago, I don't own a car, so I hoped THAT was not a dealbreaker. Meaning if this goes anywhere, the burden will be on him to come to me.

I had a few minutes before work, so I checked OKCupid and he hadn't responded. However, this was at 8:45 a.m. and we usually message about 10 p.m.-ish. And if I don't hear back from him, it wasn't meant to be anyway.

Waiting, again. This time for a boy at a distance.

Gimme a Break, by Doris

Cher Rock,

I'm ecstatic that you and 2.0 are currently floating on a first-base cloud. Truly. I wish you all the smoochies and Strangers With Candy marathons in the world.

However, regarding your challenge to me in your last post:

• Our readers may not be aware of the fact that your job allows for far more flexibility than mine.


• For me, the next two days consist of this: work, appointment, work, office Christmas party, hopefully yoga so I don't get fat from all the food I will inevitably ingest and therefore become unattractive to the dudes on OKCupid.
  
• As this is the holiday season, everyone's partying and traveling (plus one of the boys I've been messaging with has finals this week). Including me. The only times I have free are as follows: Friday evening, Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon after the home pick-up of the charity I'm donating my old clothes to.

I know you are making a face right now and yelling, "Excuses, excuses, Doris, get on it dammit!"

So I'll make you a deal. I'll ask out one or more of the cuties I'm messaging with. If my limited time frame matches up with theirs, we will grab a coffee on Friday at the earliest.

Otherwise, my friend, I hope you don't have plans with 2.0 on Friday, 'cause we're heading to a straight bar!

Eye-rollingly yours,

Doris

Can You Hold On For One More Day?, by Doris

Now that Rock has encouraged me to be picky, I'm worried I'm getting TOO picky.

There's this semi-cute, very articulate guy who I've been messaging with. Notice I said semi-cute. Now, I'm not holding out for Jon Hamm (though that would be amazing). Ex-calibur certainly was no Adonis. But when I was in my early twenties, my very Catholic mother shocked the almighty hell out of me by saying, "You need to ask yourself: do I want to wake up with him in the morning?" Unexpected words of wisdom from a woman who married her high school boyfriend.

I'm not sure I'd want to wake up with Semi-Cute in the morning.

I'm torn. I mean, I wasn't attracted to Ex-calibur at first. Granted, I was in high school at the time, and I'd like to think my taste has gotten more varied than, say, Leonardo DiCaprio (who's still pretty hot, in my opinion).

But I'm getting a friend vibe from Semi-Cute. And this may sound bitchy, but I have enough friends.

In the meantime . . . there's another guy. I don't want to say too much, except I thought we really hit it off in messages, but I haven't heard from him in a couple of days. And this is bothering me more than I'd like to admit. Now, I know it's the weekend. And the holidays, where everyone is traveling and partying like crazy. AND not everyone checks their online dating accounts all the time. Not everyone is blogging about it like me and Rock.

I hate this. I hate being the whiny girl who waits.

I guess I'll poke around the site a little more.

But I'm afraid "semi" just isn't enough for me.

Do I Do(uche), by Doris

Observations from my first few days on OKCupid:

1. There are a LOT of people looking for love.

2. Some of them are really pretentious.

3. One of them deigned to IM me.

I now give you the story of Dr. Douchebag.

He liked my pics, called me hot. Haven't heard that since the days of Ex-calibur, so I went with it. Even after he gave me crap for not knowing the capital of Qatar. Yes, he's that guy.

Shoulda been my first clue.

What shoulda been my second clue is when he asked for my number AFTER I suggested we meet. Now, I engaged in a discussion (re: friendly argument over beers at our neighborhood dive bar) with Rock and his new friend 2.0 last night about this. I don't want to talk online for weeks and weeks with some dude and get my hopes up, only to meet him and find out the energy's just not there in person. I'd rather figure it out after a few emails.

In short, I wanted to meet this guy and he wanted to talk on the phone with me first.

I said fine, just give me your number and a good time to reach you. He said no, insisted we exchange numbers.

Shoulda been my third clue. You can probably see where this is going.

So it's the next day, 11 a.m. and I'm talking to my coworker. I happen to have my phone with me and it starts vibrating with the sounds of Dr. Douchebag. I could practically hear "capital of Qatar" in the brrr brrr brrr.

This would have been whatever, HAD I NOT TOLD HIM I HAVE A 9-5 JOB.

And the kicker? He didn't even leave a gotdamn message.

Done.

Except not quite.

I'm at a bar last night, gearing up to perform in a dance show, when I get another call, a voice mail, and a text message asking if I had received said voice mail.

Egged on by my fellow dancers, I responded in kind:

"Got your call and voice mail. Thanks, but I think you'd be better off with someone who knows the capital of Qatar. Because I don't, and I am totally cool with that. :)"

Instead of taking my smartass response as a hint, Dr. (Clueless) Douchebag thinks my feelings are hurt by his Big Manly Intellect and sends a looooong text message about how he thinks it's just so awesome I work where I do, and since Qatar was all over the news with the World Cup, he thought my poor little feminine brain would know the capital, and can he buy me a drink to make up for it.

Then he called again and left a voice mail AGAIN. To make sure my texts were still working, I guess.

Rock and 2.0 suggested I ignore it. My very smart roommate said that was only going to encourage Dr. Douchebag. So I sent him this:

"Got your second call and voice mail. Thanks, but this is not going to work. Please do not contact me again." Implied: or I will call the cops on your pretentious stalker ass.

Dr. Douchebag's response, not ten seconds later:

"Our loss."

UGH.

So what has formerly naive, now slightly more savvy Doris learned, boys and girls?

1. It's okay to be picky! Listening to your instincts does not make you a bitch, it makes you smart.

2. Don't give someone your number right away. Especially if they're pushing you into it.

3. There are guys out there who will NOT make fun of your lack of obscure geographical knowledge and your 9-5 office job. Some of whom, in fact, have been messaging you!

Three days in and this online thing is fun, but kind of overwhelming.

No more Dr. Douchebags, though. That skeevy ship has sailed.

Texts From Last Night: OKCupid Setup, by Doris

The following texts were taken from Rock and Doris' cell phones as they set up OKCupid accounts in their respective apartments.

NOTE: Doris had just come home from burlesque rehearsal, was sore as hell and just wanted to watch The Sing-Off, when she received a text from Rock.

Rock: I'm two beers in with nothing else to do tonight if you wanna make okcupid profiles.

Doris: I'm wearing flannel pajama bottoms and eating mashed potatoes. Sexiest thing EVER.

Rock: Work it girl.

Doris: Christ, I am low on pics. Oh well. Will use an okay one for now.

Rock: I can't even settle on a username.

Doris: You? Come on! You're so creative! And you're tipsy to boot! Just do "Ilikecock" and call it a day.

Rock: Haha I'm sure it's taken.

Doris: I just sent my mom an email asking for cute pics of me. I am blaming you. If she asks, you said I should have more pictures on Facebook.

Rock: I picked a name.

Doris: What was the first thing you noticed about me? (NOTE: this was a reference to one of OkCupid's 5,000,360 questions.)

Rock: That you could give me a ride. (NOTE: Rock was not of driving age when he met Doris.)

Rock: Am I skinny, average, fit or athletic?

Doris: You are fit . . . I think I'm going overboard on the "favorites."

Doris: Six things I could never do without? WTF does that mean?

Rock: That's such a weird question. I think these are all purposely vague.

Doris: If I put I'm looking for casual sex, I'm gonna get a lot of creeps. Damn you, double standards.

Rock: It's true.

Doris: I have no idea if I'm doing this right.

Doris: Am I fit, average, athletic or curvy?

Rock: You have a curvy body type but curvy makes you sound fat which you're not. I could make arguments for fit or average or curvy to be honest. Probably not curvy.

Doris: I have the same reservations about curvy. Athletic? I dunno. I have muscles and big shoulders.

Rock: Athletic makes me think no boobs and six pack.

(NOTE: Doris has boobs and no six pack.)

Doris: Dammit, I wish curvy meant what it is supposed to mean!

Rock: Fit.

Rock: Haha I don't know if anyone is going to be attracted to this profile. I kind of sound like an ass.

Doris: I was just thinking that about mine!!!

Do Rock and Doris, indeed, sound like asses? Will attractive men see through their false bravado and ask them out? Stay tuned . . .

FUN FACT: Rock was once in a commercial about texting while driving.

Oh I Don't Think Straight With Nothing to Prove, by Doris

So here's the part where (The) Rock and me set goals for each other.

*yoga breath*

Here goes:

Let me say first that I adore Rock.  He is my tall handsome gay.  And more than anything, from the second he told me he liked boys on the way to play rehearsal (because we are all about the cliches), I've just wanted him to be happy.

With that in mind:

I think Rock's standards are at once too low and too high.

He alluded to it in his last post, but let me tell you how I see it.

The way Rock approaches life is full speed ahead.  He wants something, by God he'll work his ass off to get it.  He was valedictorian.  He moved thousands of miles away to pursue a dream, then moved back not because he gave up, but because he wanted a different life. 

This dogged balls-to-the-wall approach (and a healthy dose of oldest-child-overachiever syndrome) is something we share, and a large part of why we've been friends so long.

I just wish he wouldn't apply it to relationships.

Rock wants to settle down.  In pursuit of this goal, he's done an awful lot of settling.  Not that it's always a bad thing: his relationships have made him who he is, and he's met some cool people.  But from what I've seen, he either settles for someone far less than he's happy with, or he settles for an unequal relationship with someone he loves with all his heart and thinks is "the one."  He's determined to make it work, dammit.

To Rock, I say this:

RELAX.

As he's admitted himself, the boy is A-OK with dating.  He's a great boyfriend.  He has no problem meeting people.  However, I want him to go with the flow at least once in the next six months.  To just have fun with a boy without trying to slap a label and/or permanence on it.  To maybe, just maybe, have a fling: something not intense and without an ultimatum or expiration date.  Not a one-night stand, but an ongoing deal where the goal is just to enjoy.

Because I have no doubt he WILL find the mythical One.

He just doesn't need to find him in the next thirty minutes.

NEW IN TOWN, by Doris

"How was your Thanksgiving?"  What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

I'm sure I sound defensive right now.  But when you get a random text from the guy you've been seeing on and off for fourteen years, who recently DIDN'T contact you for two months until you found out via your parents and his that he has a "serious girlfriend" and your mom's more broken up about it than you are . . . well, it's kind of a gut reaction.

Me and the dude, let's call him Ex-calibur, we've never exactly been friends.  We met when we were just seventeen (him) and two days shy of sixteen (me).  At that time I was convinced no boy in the world would ever like me, and I was soooo old not to be dating.

Now I see us for the embryos we were.

Did we stay together that long (six years mostly on, eight years mostly off) because it was right, or because it was easy?  I guess I'll never know.  At any rate, I don't know if I've seen the last of Ex-calibur.  He's had serious girlfriends before, has been known to call me--drunk and sober--whenever they have a fight, and then again after the breakup.

And for a long time, that worked for me.

I'll own it.  It was friends-with-benefits in every sense of the word.  He was amazing in bed.  But he was also fun to talk to and snuggle with while watching MST3K (he'd put on the Mike eps for me even though he was strictly a Joel man).  When I lost my job four years ago, he was the first person I got ahold of.  I was there when we were younger and his parents' divorce was incredibly nasty.  We've used each other, fought tooth and nail, disagreed more often than agreed, loved, hated, you name it. 

I'm not a victim.  I was a willing participant.

In the meantime, however, I didn't really date.

While Ex-calibur was getting serially monogamous (sort of), I had various crushes that went nowhere.  Once I slept with one of Rock's friends--this is when Rock and I were living together, which made for an awkward Sunday morning.  I've dallied, made out a little bit, even tried Craigslist (nothin' too dirty).

But dating?  I've always thought it wasn't my thing.

I'm still not convinced.  Six years of being in a serious relationship, when I was very young to boot, has me thinking that I rather like flying solo.  That said, I'd like to get laid again before my thirty-fifth birthday.  And as Rock points out, it's not just the sex.  Sometimes you just want someone to watch MST3K with.

So when Rock, my best buddy of ten years--since I told him Survivor was shit, he accused me of not having a TV, and we just sort of went from there--proposed Our Grand Six Month Dating and Blogging Experiment, I was sorta game.

The very next day, I found out about Ex-calibur's dating situation.  

Now I'm really game.

It's not a revenge thing.  I wish Ex-calibur well.  Though I hope he stops texting me.

Because I want to meet some dudes (surely there are some in this big beautiful city who won't find me totally repulsive).

And for the record?  My Thanksgiving was great.