Keeping up with the Bridget Joneses

26Jun06

Look out Bridget. I’m hot on your heels.

A seasoned dater, I have 15 plus years of experience, beginning with my first kiss in 1986. If you count a second grade crush, I’m at 25 years and counting. Enter my Bridget Jones life.

I’d be rich if I had a nickel for the number of times I’ve heard “I can’t believe you’re still single.” I’ve gone out with friends of friends, family friends and on blind dates. I’ve tried Match.com and dating services.

Great Expectations—an organization that pairs up sexy singles—has been spamming me for four years. Even they know I’m a spinster. I’m considering their man shopping services because I haven’t yet found an outlet mall that offers brand-name men at discount prices.

Among my Adam’s Family cast of characters are:

• Pig in a blanket, a handsome guy that wandered around the house naked, wrapped in a pink quilt
• The rock star was on my flight to Vancouver. An unlikely pair, I was a typical sorority girl with blonde highlights, a hip haircut neatly shaped brows, and wearing overpriced jeans. He was alternative, had greasy hair and wore cords and a dirty t-shirt
• Pro athletes—the first was a soft-spoken, thoughtful, football player. The second was a mere crush on an up and coming soccer star ten years my junior

I’ve barked up the wrong tree at times and I’ve had lots of dirty dogs bark up mine. But for every Mr. Dead Wrong I’ve dated, I have a mama’s boy, nice guy, nerd and boy-next-door to match.

My frog-to-prince ratio is lopsided on the frog side, so my number should be up soon.

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