A Totally Random Blog Post

Many times I'm asked why I don't have any good crazy dating stories to share on my blog anymore. After all, it was The Hickey Girl Date and The Parking Lot Date that made so many of you become addicted to my blog. Hmmm. Not sure what that says about me. Or you. But I do have an answer for you, faithful reader.

The answer for the last year is simple...first I did deliver with two gem dates from last spring - Eighties Girl, and The Midget Date - both in the same night. You can read about them over at TheSpleen, where eventually, when I'm willing to give up this site I've been dedicated to for almost four years, my blog will migrate to completely. Second, I've definitely prioritized my life in the following manner for the last year, in this order: 
1) My sons, 
2) My job, 
3) My extended family, 
4) My friends, and 
5) My dating life.

And also, truthfully, I'm not willing to sacrifice my happiness in life anymore at the expense of an epic blog post. For the most part, my disaster dates have happened by pure accident, with a dose of naivety. I'll fully admit there were a few dates I've written about that I knew going in would be complete disasters, thus great material for this blog. But I'm not doing that anymore. Deal with it.

The main reason is that I've learned something valuable this past few years. Avoid dating anyone who has:
a) a hickey
b) an addiction to Janey Lane
c) the belief that they are on a master list of midgets
d) holds the same definition of "sex" as Bill Clinton.

I guess I must be getting older. I'd say older and wiser, but I think that's just a psychological rationalization of sorts. The only reason I'm wiser is because I've had more disaster dates than most of you, so I know how to spot them before they start.

Anyway, I just wanted you all to know that in all likelihood, the crazy date stories are a thing of the past. I promise that if I happen to run across a crazy date, and if I haven't already made a verbal agreement with said crazy date that I won't write about her in a blog post, well, I'll share.

But frankly, you can't win if you don't play. And lately, I guess I don't feel like playing. Games are for children. So I'm sitting here on a Saturday night, my kids ignoring me, alone. And I'm content with that. Because it beats the hell out of a whole lot of crazy. 

So consider yourself warned. The next time you read about a date on here, in all likelihood it will be about my future (ex?-) wife.

If not...she's going to be a midget, addicted to Janey Lane, who has a hickey, a tongue ring, and likes to perform acts that rhyme with palatial (and for the record my mother KNOWS what word rhymes with that).