Remember that almost crazy blind date that didn’t love America?

I couldn’t bring myself to actually go on a physical date with him because during the middle of our phone conversation I realized I was clenching my teeth and my knuckles had turned white — I was agitated. A higher power intervened and disconnected our cell phones with some heavy static. When he called back to continue our conversation I opted not to pickup. Instead, I sent a polite text message the next day:

I’m going to respectfully decline our upcoming date because all I’d do is argue with you. And that’s not a good place for me to be. Hope you find what you’re looking for.

It was short, simple, to the point and exactly the type of message I’d want to get if roles were reversed. Because I can respect a person who deals with life head-on, instead of the non-confrontational Houdini method of choice boys like subscribing to. However, I was utterly unprepared for the onslaught of words that followed:

1. Sorry you thought we were arguing last night. It was definitely not my intent to “argue” with you. So, I apologize if it came across as arguing.
2. But, I do like to discuss with people what the situation is and get their opinion. So, I thought we were discussing fashion, art, and design market dynamics.
3. That way I sometimes learn a new perspective…or other people learn a new perspective. I thought we were just dicussing the dynamics of fashion, art & design.
4. But, I must have conveyed the discussion poorly because you thought we were arguing. So, my apologies about that. I feel bad for making you feel that way.
5. I love to meet new people and learn new perspective, and we were discussing perspectives last night.
6. But discussing perspectives, I generally find that you’ll have a range of perspectives that differ. Then, you’ll find a range of perspectives which are similar.
7. So, somewhere there are also similar perspectives. So…if you prefer not to meet, I understand. But, I think it’s always fun to meet new people.
8. Who knows, maybe I can set you up with somebody you might life. I’ve set up about approximately 50 dates for friends in the last 2 years. Anyways…let me know.
9. Have a great day!

NINE text messages. In a row. I had to shut off my phone because I was in a meeting. Besides my own practical safety of not wanting to meet a crazy, I’m not sure I’d want to be setup on a date by a crazy. Because crazy people befriend more crazies and I’m crazy enough as is.

On a scale of 1-10, how hot would you rate…

Yea, I’ll admit it…I was recently rated a 3 — I didn’t argue. Maybe that’s why I have deep-seeded dating issues because I’m aiming for a 6, 7, 8…the bread that’s wayyy out of my league. I should go dumpster diving and slum it. Do you think I can find good bread while digging through the trash? Because the saying goes: One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. And I am a diamond in the rough, like a piece of coal.

There’s a quirky theory that runs rampant through the streets of San Francisco — that at best, only 6’s & 7’s exist here. The belief is if you transplant a San Francisco “10″ to any other place (Las Vegas, Los Angeles, etc.) they’re only really a 7. Gee…that grass sure looks greener on the other side…Good thing I’m a 3, so I don’t even have to deal with those calculations! I just find it disturbing that people even rate others, like some review on yelp. Stop complicating your life because you’ll get stuck in the decimals. Honestly, there are more important things to spend my time on — how to increase my net worth.

However, even though I’m a 3, I’m actually “hands down the best kisser EVER” …urbandictionary said so.

Dear Mr. Right (or Mr. Right Now),

We haven’t been properly introduced but I’ve dreamed about you ever since I was a little girl and old enough to wish on stars. You’re my star — knight in shining armor coming to rescue me, your damsel in distress. When we meet, I’ll know it’s you because I’ll be overcome with emotion equivalent to an asthma attack and you’ll sweep me off my feet, tossing me over your shoulder like a fireman…or pirate. I’ll exclaim to my girlfriends that, I’m gonna lasso that man, and marry him! because you give me goosebumps, heart palpitations and even come with joint healthcare!

You won’t need lines, or gimmicks, or routines, because you’ll have me at “HELLO” — actually words won’t be necessary at all. You’ll look deep into my eyes and fall head over heels where you’ll promptly whisk me away to our own private island / chateau in France / winery in Napa. Not only will you be rolling in dough from saving the lives of starving children in Africa, you’ll have made it big during the dotcom boom but have the sensibility to pullout before the Great Recession.

You’ll understand that when I say, “Do you want dessert?” what I really mean is “I want dessert, but I’m too much of a pig to eat it on my own.” But even if I gain 5, 10, 50lbs, you’ll still think I’m sexy and F*able. But please, never when I’m not in the mood…

You’ll throw rocks at my window in the middle of the night to capture my attention and hold a boombox over your head, professing your undying love in the middle of a thunderstorm. You will not be gay. You’ll burst in the chapel and save me from marrying the douchebag standing to my left, because you have the sixth sense to help me even when I don’t know it myself.

And I’ll wait for you because I’m a princess — my daddy told me so! From the moment I could comprehend, I’ve been force-feed feeble tales of Cinderella, Snow White & Pocahontas. The Little Mermaid ain’t got nothin’ on me because I already have both my feet. No flipper babies for us!

So, what do you say, Mr. Right? Let’s go get hitched and ride off into the sunset together…

Yours Forever,
A douchette baguette