Bachelor #36

Sometimes I amaze myself. My ability to attract some of the freakiest men on earth is truly remarkable. Read on at your own peril.

I met Bachelor #36 online, which is, in many cases, cause for concern from the get-go. But he seemed like lots of the good things I'm looking for: fit, smart, nice enough looking, interesting, funny, and even Jewish, which is always a nice bonus for my mother.

We were talking on the phone, actually having quite a good conversation, when Mr. Spontaneous Pants decided he just HAD to meet me RIGHT NOW. A little anxious, maybe, and it was almost midnight, but hell, I'm game for just about anything.

Well, just about.

On the phone, he was a little eccentric maybe, but generally light and funny. In person, in addition to being a little short (why, I ask you, why are they all so short?) and more grey-haired than his photos, he was suddenly all serious. It's not that easy to make this seasoned dater uncomfortable, but I've got to hand it to Bachelor #36. He sat across the table and stared. Wide eyed, silent, and staring. Until finally he said very slowly, and I quote: "YOU ARE THE FACE I'VE ALWAYS DREAMED OF."

Now, I'm confident enough to say that I am a reasonably attractive human being. And I know how to take a compliment (and how to spell one, which is a lot more than I can say about most men on the online dating sites, but I digress...) However, this time, every fibre of my being was screaming "FREAK!"

In a desperate attempt to break his gaze, I got up and went to the bathroom. When I returned, he told me that as he watched me walking away, he couldn't help noticing how beautiful my butt is, and that he would like very much to spend a few hours just rubbing it.

Sometimes my fibres are really perceptive.

NEXT!

Bachelor #7

Yes, I've invested several hundred dollars of Visa's hard earned money on an outrageously expensive dating service, but the savvy dater does not put all her eggs in one over-priced basket. So I decide to give the Jewish dating site one last shot.

Bachelor #7 is 39 and divorced, but with no kids. He's quit his successful career as a stock broker to enjoy life to its fullest as a struggling freelance writer living off his savings in the feint hope that he'll get published before the cash flow runs dry. He's travelled the world and is completely enamoured with himself.

But he had dark hair and he was kind of cute, so I went out with him. Very much against my better judgement.

Dating Rule #3: Do not date children.

I am someone's mother. No, I do not enjoy responsibility nor do I actually want to work for a living, but these are the unfortunate circumstances I have to live with. Bachelor #7 lives in a loft downtown, doesn't have a car because he prefers when someone else drives, and would ideally like to find someone who can sleep til noon and play with him all day.

Next.

Bachelor #4

So I tried a Jewish dating site. I'm not what my friend D would call "a big Jew". I eat lobster every chance I get and only set foot in a synagogue when I visit my mother, but if it gives me entry into a Mecca of single men, I'm in.

OK, maybe not Mecca. There are precisely 12 men and 12 women on this site, and they're all dating each other. Or have dated each other. I'm sure of it. But the Big Horrible Birthday is fast approaching, so we will try anything.

I agree to meet Bachelor #4 for drinks. He thinks his facial hair is a toy.

Next.