OLD-FASHIONED ROMANTIC

One of my acquaintances, familiar with the loss of romance in my life, suggested I use social networking sites to advertise my availability.

He went on to recommend several options I had never heard of.
In addition to Facebook.

Facebook I've heard of.

On what planet do people use Facebook to find dates?


YEAH MAN, FACEBOOK IS MY PIMP!

While I am usually open to zany suggestions, I have to turn this idea down.
My Facebook friends, overwhelmingly, are not the kind of people I would date.
No offense, guys.
If I were a single Jewish woman with a college degree, some of them would be very tempting prospects, lovely trimmed beards and all.
Heck, quite a number of them even have smicha!

[No, that isn't a disease, it simply means that they are musmachim.]


But that tells you what the problem is right there. None of my Facebook friends are in my ballpark. And the prospect of saying "hey baby baby baby" to someone electronically is not nearly as tempting as the idea of stuttering like an idiot and blushing fiercely while shooting myself in the foot during a disastrous face to face conversation with a real person, who is actually female, in real life.

I'm fairly certain that none of those bearded gentlemen on FB is a female, in real life.
I think I would know.
Their internet honesty is commendable.
Unhelpful, but utterly commendable.

The other problem is that my Facebook persona is also..... unhelpful.
I use Facebook to jot down notes or warehouse amusing clips, as well as to comment on other people's situations.
What impression could a potential date get from a series of eccentric music clips and superficial comments?

"This man listens to funky stuff and can't hold a conversation"

"This man has ADD and really strange friends"

"This man loves frogs"


Any woman who feels herself attracted to that may need help.

I would be far more likely to consider someone who reads my blog. But given that I've gibbered here about cooking zebras, smoking a pipe, and eating noodles, plus dumping hot sauce or rivulets of ghee on everything and everyone, that, too, might be an iffy proposition.
Irrespective of their thoughts about my own (lovely) trimmed beard.
It would almost certainly have to be someone with a high tolerance for interesting foods, smelly tobacco, and ghee.
Hot sauce, and ghee.
Much ghee.


So far no one has taken the bait.
Nor is it likely that anyone will.



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