I Got a Boyfriend...or 2

First, excuse my absence. I just couldn't take anymore dates, any more disappointment, any more below par men. Seems to be a plethora out there. So far I'd grade my experience a C and frankly, I'm aiming for out of the park, A plus. Perhaps my expectations are too high. I'd love to meet a guy who is breathing, has all his limbs, and a job, and it might help if we like each other. Last night, on the way to Hot Pot City with friends I said that I want to meet a guy who is cute and before I could continue with my list I was interrupted. Apparently, cute is no longer a reasonable expectation for women my age. It has come down to:

"A feature you could find endearing." Added after a silence, "Some day."

Fair enough. I guess when the lights are out the lights are out. But really, I'd like more than a feature. I'd like an overall cuteness and if I can't have that, then I'll go with at least a cute look. How's that? Setting the bar too high yet again.

In a pinch there are some standbys. My boyfriends: Mr. Vornado (a space-heater) and Freddy (as in Freddy Meyer's). I put my face in front of Mr. Vornado all morning long while on the computer and during a winter in Portland - with nearly no insulation in my house - this thing is a godsend. Perhaps better than any boyfriend I've had, he's Italian and perfectly reliable. Next, Freddy. Always there when I need him and has everything a girl could need including free cheese samples on weekdays and yarn. Though I share him with other women, I simply feel better after a visit.

So there you have it. Zero dates. Two boyfriends. A hundred cups of coffee. A thousand dog walks. A million minutes of kvetching.

I promise to be back in January and to go on...dare I say it, two dates a week again? No, I learned my lesson. I was all dated out. But maybe one a week. If nothing more than to prove a point: this is my experience. It is not a fiction; it really is this hard out there. At least for me.

An ex, who claimed not to have read my blog, said it was tacky. Well I take his tacky and I raise him one: this is my experience, this is my life, and if it's tacky or unpleasant or disappointing or if some of the guys come off as duds, all I can say is: this is real --

Show me what you got Portland.