April 14, 2004 - 11:14 a.m.

I've been pretty fed up with Dave lately. He has had no desire to see me in the past month nor does he act pleased to hear me when I call. So, I had mentioned this to my best friend and she offers to set me up with a man her new boyfriend works with.

So, last night we went on our double date. This guy is 35 years old with three kids, and looks at least 40. He is about two inches shorter than me, almost rail thin, and has thinning hair he so obviously tried to cover up with lots of styling product. And he has crooked teeth.

He is also either very shy or very unsociable. He only said two sentences directly too me and that is including "goodnight". Fortunately, he had no problem picking up the check.

The worst part was his "whip" as he so affectionately refers to it. I call it a car. He drives a Dodge Neon that he has "pimped out". His description, not mine.

Who the fuck pimps out a $9000 car with 4 cylinders. We're talking rims, 2 ten inch subwoofers for a stock CD player, and rubber floor mats.

At the restuarant, I did what every red blooded American unmarried woman does when someone else has to pick up the tab. I got drunk. Plastered. Call it what you like, that was my survival technique.

I have just one way to describe the entire incident, and then I would like to forget it forever. The word is "eeww" and only came out after my friend's boyfriend asked me how I like the Neon guy. Even more creepily, it was revealed to me Neon guy had a bottle of wine for me had I managed to make it past 10pm. Too bad, so sad. No bonding for us.

Woke up this morning newly in love with my present boyfriend Dave. I guess all I needed what a kick in the pants to scare me back into not being in the dating scene.

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