Funny, She Doesn’t Look Jewish?

I would like to say that I didn’t give online dating more consideration because my personal life has been far too interesting and fulfilling, but I can’t. My lack of prospects and my utter inability to meet anyone on my own has me pondering another dip into the cesspool of online matchmaking. However, I honestly can’t handle more poorly written, sexually charged emails accompanied by topless camera phone bathroom pictures. My faith in humanity is already dwindling; that might tip me over the edge and leave me lying on the floor begging for the Mayans to be right.

Having tried a plethora of other online options, I was about to give up when someone proposed JDate to me. I’m not Jewish from a religious standpoint, but my mother’s family is, so why not embrace my peoplehood. I can kvetch with the best of them (as you’ve probably noticed) and I am no stranger to hiding in a corner of a family event with a bottle of Manischewitz, wishing it didn’t taste quite so awful and drinking it anyway.

So, I checked it out to see if perhaps this site would accept a shiksa like me.

I wasn’t quite prepared for the level of propriety I found. In every profile, there was proper grammar use, all the words were spelled correctly and I did not see one topless bathroom photo.  And they all had jobs!

Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do in a relationship with a guy who had his life together or who wasn’t constantly asking to borrow money from me. One of my exes (the one who wouldn’t give me a bottle of Corona because that was the “good” beer) still owes me money. We were taking a trip together and he had complained that he couldn’t find reservations for a place to stay online, could I do it and he’d pay me back. Despite the fact that he worked in customer service for a chain of resorts, I believed him. (And thus, you can see my blind spot in relationships.) After we returned home, he told me he didn’t have the money up front, could he pay me in installments, which I agreed to. This was not the first time he had borrowed large sums of money from me. We broke up before he paid me back.

So having been continually blinded by a series of class A f*ck-ups, I think I’m ready to meet someone with a job, aspirations in life, and the ability to effectively communicate using phrases longer than “ur sexy.”

Then again, it might all be too good to be true. I’m still pondering this foray into the world of Jewish dating.

Lesson learned: When it comes to finding Mr. Right, maybe you have to take a different direction.

Slightly Inferno

You know those times in life where everything goes from bad to worse? This has been my last two months. Every day it seems like a different corner of my life is getting sucked into a Dante-esque circle of awful.

Then season two of Game of Thrones ended. Damn.

So of course this was the perfect time for my grandfather to call.

Grandpa: “How’s your private life?”

Me: “It’s fine.”

Grandpa: “Nothing new to tell me?”

Me: “No.”

Grandpa: “Well far be it from me to tell you what to do.”

Wait for it . . .

Grandpa: “You should get married. You’re running out of time you know.”

And this was the icing on my shitcake.

Note: I am by no means turning my blog into a suck-tastic drama where Katherine Heigl learns to love herself or some bullshit. But it does have me thinking about how in the past I would have wanted someone to come along to pick up the pieces. When you’re single, however, you pick up your own pieces.

I pick up said pieces of my life with my coping strategies: excessive exercising followed by excessive drinking. I like to mix my virtues with my vices. I’ve also spent time finding new ways to use profanity.

This brings me back to Dante. In The Divine Comedy, the Inferno comes first. I’m pretty sure Paradiso is only better, not because it’s great, but because it’s not hell. Still, you can’t get there without going through nine circles of badness. (I’m fairly sure the ninth circle is watching a Real Housewives of something marathon.) Throw in some purgatory and eventually, you’ll come out the other side.

Lesson learned:  Happiness can only been found after you’ve been knee-deep in crap and then find yourself to only be ankle deep in it.

No life is crap free after all.