Paris Hilton ain't got nuthin' on me

and I do mean, NUTHIN'. She has a pretty high profile social life--mine's just a bit lower profile--and maybe a smite more middle class.

But I got one to rival hers all of a sudden and I'll be damned if I can keep up.

So I told ya about the date site, right?

WTF was I thinking?

Heavens to mergatroid.

I know I complained no one would want to date me. I know I whined and moaned I'd never have sex again. Hell, I couldn't even get a kiss.

However, I think a brighter horizon on my bleak desert is available and on it, many, many mirages :)

I've been getting oodles of e-mail. I'm booked for weeks now. Cancellation must occur 24 hours prior to date day or you will be charged. LMAO

I genuinely can't keep up--or fend guys off and make them wait until I can catch up. They're like petulant little children if you mention you might not be available until the moon rises in the house of freakin' Jupiter and the stars are aligned with Mars and Venus. "But, Dakota," they whine. "Whhyyyyyy can't you just squeeze in a caramel mocha latte while you write books, clean the house, pay the bills, mow the yard, acknowledge your mother, grocery shop, address the two devil spawn you birthed, do the laundry, cook dinner (gasping for breath) AND breathe?"

In essence--they're killin' this broad.

I have sticky notes pasted to my office desk with names of my prey--if they have the same names (do you know how many Bob's want to date me? LMAO) I have identifiers like-- Bob 1 likes to ski and Bob 2 hates shell fish. Hair color--profile remarks that highlight WHY I liked them in the first damn place.

Crimeny!

Honestly, you'd think I was Tyra Banks for all of the e-mail I get, which is just plain silly. I'm okay looking--I get by. I ain't no hard body--I ain't even a semi-hard body and yet, they come in droves.

Which brings me to Paris.

She has oodles of dates, yet she doesn't seem to look too harried by it. I, on the other hand, am bedraggled--haggard--whooped.

Yet, this hasn't stopped me.

Why, you ask?

Cuz, hells bells, who knew?

I mean, honestly--who knew that the variety of men was so vast? I had no clue. It's like being in the chocolate store and having your pick of five hundred flavors. I want to taste all of them--even if it's just a nibble.

I can't afford much more than that because my thighs would just get ugly. tee hee :)

So, here I am. Going out on two or three dates a week and having a shitload of fun :)

I am officially date slut--a 'ho for some Starbucks coffee and conversation. Hell, I've been to Starbucks so many times that I know all of the employees AND their family members. We're planning a Secret Santa for the coming holidays. There's talk of naming a coffee after me. LOLLOL

So what's a girl to do?

What does Paris do?

I need to borrow her public relations rep. Maybe she could get me one of those palm thingys and I could make spread sheets. A power point presentation even...

If I could find the almost right guy, I'd wipe out my profile altogether on that site. No such luck, Chuck. Not even close. Because for all the dates I've been on, very little spark occurs.

Shoot, if I could get just a glimmer of a spark, I'd be on the ground blowin' on that baby for all she's worth so I could have a flicker of a flame and a hand to hold at the movies.

Maybe it's me? Maybe because I didn't do this when I was in my 20's, I'm makin' up for lost time?

I dunno...

I do know--if I don't come close sometime soon, I'm never having sex again. That would SO suck, don't you agree?

Then my only date really will be with a BOB-- of the purple and pink variety.

Could someone pass the triple A's, please?

LOLLOL

Dakota :)