Cry For (Dating) Help

As my mother or pretty much anyone who knows me well will tell you, I don't particularly like to humble myself. Humility isn't really one of my strong suits. Unless I really want something. And then it's called manipumility.

Which reminds me, I need something from you. Because you're so great and wise. And pretty on the inside and the outside.

So what is it I want?

A date. A fix-up. I really could use some Match.Mom magic right about now, but alas the distance does me no good.

So, if you happen to know of a single, non-troll-like, non-moron who is capable of sometimes making jokes (they don't even have to be that funny - I have a broad sense of humor - I will laugh) who lives in Manhattan (okay fine, I'll expand my reach to Brooklyn - if it's off the L train) then please, let me know.

Also, it would be nice if he had a job. And was under 35. And was taller than me (I'm 5'8").

And liked girls with blogs who would probably write about the date for The Internet to know all about.

Is that too many requirements? I mean, considering I haven't gone on an actual date all summer, maybe I should be less picky. Let's go with "alive" and "not the worst person you've ever met."

Why all of a sudden do I feel this pressure to start dating? Because I've officially transitioned from lazy/indifferent to quasi lame/pathetic. And I need some roster-fillers before the fall starts. Before I get antsy. And before I really start to embarrass myself.

The tipping point was last weekend when I ended up hanging out with some mutual friends, including a cute guy who I had met before. At that point I was under the assumption he had a gf, but apparently that's not the case. Anyway, allegedly we spent a lot of time talking (the night is hazy; sometimes I'm a lush).

Fast forward to the next morning when I felt that it was totally acceptable to text him (still hazy) to tell him that apparently I had his number and that the entire night was a blur.

Then instead of waiting for that out-of-the-blue-contact awkwardness to wear off, the next day I decided that I should friend him on FB. Gah, I might as well have sent him the names of our future children. FML.

While this might not sound incredibly CGS-y, it's definitely the early warning signs. And I know if someone pulled these moves out of thin air on me, I'd be all 'Woah buddy calm down, I don't know if I'm ready to commit.'

So, while I've been sharing this story that plummets my reputation to new, previously unexplored levels of awkwardness, I assume you've begun jotting down a few names of potential candidates. Gracias!

But perhaps, since we're all selfish deep down inside, you're possibly asking yourself, "What do I get out of this?"

Well, for starters, you become my new favorite reader. Sorry, mom, you're out.

And, and this is a big AND, if things really take off between us, you will have a very special role in our wedding, complete with a toast where you're honored as the official reason we're together! Well, you, and The Internet.

Who could resist that?! Potential matchmakers can find my email in my "About me" tab.

P dot S: The last time I made a public plea - that time for a new wingman - I was contacted by Elle from Do You Fancy Us. While initially both of our mothers were worried that the other person might be a crazy serial killer who agreed to an unlimited mimosa brunch at Essex House, it totes turned out perfectly!! Case in point: I will be hanging out with her and Em, who will be in town visiting, this weekend!

I expect nothing but this high level of results from this go 'round.