Because life necessitates humor, I was having a good laugh recounting my various dating excursions with my mum. They have titles, though for the sake of privacy, I shan’t reveal them all:

“That Guy”

“Thou Who Shall Not Be Named”

The Fishbone Series

“The Terrorist”

“The FP” and


I don’t date much, but I hear that’s what 20-somethings do when they have spare time, so I try to allow myself the opportunity here and there, though it’s hard to do that when you spend so much time dedicated to something. (One or two of those were meaningful, long term relationships, and I’m very lucky to call one from a while back a very dear friend now. Very lucky.

That said, I have to clarify. The Fishbone Series isn’t what it sounds like. So what happened was…. I was single. Quite single. This was after the traumatic breakup with Thou Who Shall Not Be Named. Apparently, after such an event, there’s a neon sign floating above one’s aura with an arrow that says “S.I.N.G.L.E.”. So, of course, out of the woodwork come these various men:

“You know what’s funny is that I’ll be in the area next weekend…” **SNORT** Sure you will, son, sure you will.

“Well if you’re available I’d love to grab some food and….” **Never available, but I’ll make time**

“You’re story is incredible I’d love to hear more….” **I’m not a zoo animal my friend, but I’ll let it slide**

“Let’s hang out!” [This one was a text] ** Uhhhh okay, why the heck not. Do things even count in digital-land?**

So first one was immensely charming. A lovely dinner at a sushi place, a night on the town, chatted the night away. Wonderful company. But I fear that was the extent of it for me. Can’t force what isn’t there, right?

Round two happened to be another Friday night: Steakhouse? No thank you, I don’t eat meat, but I do enjoy fish. How about Sushi? Sure! Love sushi. Good for replenishment after training. Fishbones at 8p? Ha, funny, I was just there last week and loved it. I’ll see you there! But over dinner, I had to listen to how awesome this guy is, how good he is at everything, and how much he can bench press for, and I’m not kidding here, a good 95 minutes.


Round three. Lemme guess. No wait, hold on…Fishbones? **SIGH**.

K. See you there…

This was the POL-AR opposite. I’m a firm believer in that only boring people get bored. That is to say that one can find something of value in every situation.

NAY NAY! Not this one! At one point I excused myself to the restroom, entirely sure I had taken a cat nap with my eyes open. To keep myself awake, I started to wonder what I was going to tell the wait staff here. Surely, they recognized me by now. I SWEAR TO YOU, dear waitstaff, I SWEAR, that this is pure coincidence, and is not at all what you think it is. Oy Vay.

I’m sure you can guess where I had dinner yet again the following Friday night. No really, go on. And you would indeed be correct. The only thing that made this one horrendous was running into a dear friend, who was in what appeared to be a nasty tift with their significant other. I didn’t realize this, so as I tried to make friendly conversation, I had sets of daggers glaring at me from across the table.

So a freaking month of Fishbones. Hence, “The Fishbone Series”. Can’t complain. Good food at least. Soulful connections? Probably not. And I can only assume that these things happen for a reason… QUEUE BEYONCE: ALLLLL THE SINGLE LADIES!!


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