Lovelife digest, Virginia Woolfe style

It's time for the skinny on my continuing adventures with the opposite sex. Hopefully you all actually care, since I am now the odd man out. If you don't, know that my feelings are officially hurt you heartless bastards.

Where to begin? So many women, so many rejections. Not to worry though, because like sparring once you get used to taking a beating, it's not so scary anymore. It's been quite a couple of weeks for everyone's favorite verbose box turtle. I have to say this in defense of Houston - there are chicks everywhere.

So I had a surprise this morning in my email inbox. A match I closed on eHarmony actually asked that I reopen the match. This for me is a complete jaw-dropper. The only reason I closed the match is because I hadn't heard from her in a few days, which in my experience means that I'm not going to hear from her again. The girl I was all excited about a few weeks ago (the one whose answers I posted) is a good example of that. No wait, I take that back. She just closed our match. Eh, at least she was considerate enough to not leave me hanging.

However, unlike the girl I just mentioned, I opted to reopen the match I closed. So, we'll see what happens.

Thursday night as I'm getting ready to leave the office, my boss says to me, "so what are you doing tonight?" I tell him "laundry," to which he replies, "too bad, me and my buddies are going to shoot pool with a bunch of hot girls." So, I put off laundry, got my mom to go let my dog out, and headed out for the pool hall. Now, when I asked about the hotties, my boss's friends said, "You actually believed him?" And then they all had a good laugh.

Jackasses.

Anywho, I did however get a phone number from the girl they were all hitting on. The beauty is that I was about 3/4 drunk (which means two beers in the same hour) and completely off my game. Not only does she choose me over three others, when I give her my phone number, she immediately calls it to give me hers (which also lets me know that the number is legit.) I must be just too pretty - I should wear my hillbilly teeth more often to give others a chance.

Of course, I called her Saturday and have yet to hear back from her. But, who knows? People get busy.

The funny thing is, when I called her and left a message, I damn near called her Christine (the girl I met Friday night) instead of her name, Katie. Yet another potential disaster averted because I've learned to think before I speak. I must be the man my father always dreamed of being.

So anyway, Friday night I was out bar hopping with a group of folks I know. And as I've mentioned I meet Christine, the 23 year old Vietnamese girl. She claimed at one point that Asian girls have no boobs or ass, which made me wonder what was I staring at all night. I'm no genius, but I think I know cleavage when I see it.

Now, some of you may have read the last paragraph and thought, "23? Dang, isn't she a little young?" Well, considering that I fell for a girl who's not yet 21 a few weeks ago, not really. After debating it back and forth for two weeks, I finally decided to not worry about the chronological age and ask her out. Well, she dug me but she just got out of three year relationship and a bad break up, and is taking time to be by herself before dating again. Considering that I wasn't smart enough to do that at 31, it reinforced for me that she was more mature than most her age. Anyway, she has my email address.

Come to think of it, the vast majority of women I've dated have been older than me, some by several years. See what that has gotten me? Hmm, maybe this is a new paradigm for Firecracker George.

Then, I've been chatting with Heather at work, but the more I talk to her the less I think we would be compatible. Nothing earth-shattering, just not many shared interests. Don't get me wrong, no one would have to twist my arm to go out with her, I just don't put her at the top of the list of possibilities.

All these girls, and I STILL can't find a date for the Red Hot Chili Peppers concert on the seventh. Fate mocks me.