Miracle dot com...

So, Dubs has been trying to convince me (along with several other coworkers - they just do it telepathically) that I am doomed in the dating scene.  

I don't think it's very far from the truth given that in the presence of an attractive guy I always run away.  Literally.  In fact, it's probably the only time I actually ever run.  That's when you KNOW it's bad...

Top that off with a healthy serving of bad singing and dancing skill-Z, an unREAL obsession with bacon, and about 80% of my mind being occupied thinking about the slug problem I've currently got in my precious plant beds, I can kind of see what they're all getting at.

So, it brings me great pain to announce to everyone that I have officially outsourced my dating life and laid its sad little existance into the trusting arms of Dubs... and she in turn has sold my self respect to match.com (with my reluctant permission of course).  I guess I finally decided it is almost time to start taking this dating thing seriously... and by having her do all of the grunt work, it allows me to pretend I'm not actually "online dating," just "outsourcing." 

Of course, outsourcing has its benefits... I will only be selecting from the upper echelon of the dating elite (after she weeds out the riff raff), but depending on what she thinks my interests are (see above) we might not be getting anywhere with an interest like BACON.

So far, my curiosity has gotten the best of me, and I visited my so-called "profile" and pretty much fell in love with one of the suggested matches in about 20 seconds... good thing I am giving Dubs complete control of this situation.  Hopefully, it's possible to date someone without ever meeting them in person... His killer good looks already have me running away from the COMPUTER SCREEN, I can't even imagine what I'd do if I had to MEET this guy.  Forget it!

My guess?  Even with Dubs lighting the way with her beacon of online dating experience, I'm going to need a lobotomy, a big old bucket of self confidence and a stunt double to pull this one off...  

If all else fails, it'll at least be worth the giggles and I'll just keep on coasting with the belief that a stork will just deliver a husband to my door. 

 (And a message for the stork, if you're reading this:  make sure he's not a picky eater, loves bacon, gardening, movies and the backstreet boys - or at least tolerates their music... hates slugs, aphids, garden pests in general, doesn't smoke, and understands there are very few circumstances in life where wearing a sleeveless tee is appropriate.  Thanks!)

P.S. The ring is from Tacori, if you could mention that too, I'd appreciate it.