Friday, September 24, 2010

Where are all the good guys?

Pardon my pique, but I'm about to indulge in a bit of personal ranting, something I'm sure you've noticed I'm not prone to -- at least on this blog.

As a single woman smack dab in the center of the Baby Boom generation, I've been dating with the intention of finding a man to settle into a rewarding, long-term relationship with. My preference is someone close to my age -- give or take a few years on either side -- because I just find it easier to relate to someone who grew up at or around the same time I did.

Now, I realize I'm not perfect; but, at the risk of sounding conceited, I believe I have a lot to offer: I'm smart, funny, well-rounded, independent, trim and fit, and reasonably attractive. So why has it been so hard to find an equally deserving guy?

You might suspect that I'm too picky. Or afraid of commitment. Or some other such thing that amounts to a personal failing.

And, maybe so. But, frankly, I think the problem lies with the pool of men that I'm "fishing" in. They just don't seem to be out there in any significant numbers. When I go out socially or participate in recreational activities, invariably the women in my age group outnumber the men by at least two to one. I realize that the odds where I live -- South Florida -- DO favor the men quite a bit. But you'd think that they would still be out and about in visible numbers.

So, while I'm out bike riding, or attending a barbecue/picnic, or snorkeling, or shooting pool, or doing dinner and a movie, where are all the good guys my age? Are they hanging out in bars? Staying home immersed in solitary hobbies? Watching back-to-back sporting events? Watching porn? Yeah, guys -- that's gonna be good for your social life!

Even worse, it seems like the eligible men in my age bracket aren't looking for long-term. Some are fresh off a divorce and want to sow some wild oats; fair enough. But too many others, who've been single at least several years, seem to relish their bachelorhood far too much to want to "settle" for one woman. They want to be free to "enjoy" their 40s and 50s -- which, apparently, means going through as many women as humanly possible.

It will be interesting to see how these same "free spirits" feel about being tied to a relationship in another decade or so. I'd be willing to bet that they'll suddenly be quite open to settling down with someone -- someone who will be there to go with them to the doctor, make sure they take their meds, comfort them in their old age.

And guess what, guys? I'm not so sure that we gals are going to willing to go along with that plan. If you don't want to be with us in these relatively healthy and prosperous years, when we could actually enjoy life as a couple, why the hell should you deserve us when you need a nursemaid?

Thursday, September 2, 2010

And they call it puppy love!

I'm in love, and I'm not ashamed to shout it to the skies. The object(s) of my affection are three wriggly, snuggly brothers with big dark eyes, fluffy and floppy ears, wagging tails, and that wonderful puppy smell.

Meet Bromley, Chester, and Townshend. These long-haired dachshund pups are almost 10 weeks old, and they came home in a box yesterday with my sister, Mimi, and me. We had found them 10 days earlier on our way up to vacation in Vermont. The sign on the side of the road said "mini dachshunds for sale." And, being a doxie-loving family from way back, we HAD to stop.
Big mistake. Or, wonderful decision -- depending on how you want to look at it. I already have a doxie, Jake (whom I blogged about here), but Mimi has been wanting a dog of her own for a while now. The breeder had four long-haired litter mates available -- three boys and a girl. One look was all it took for Mimi to decide to get one. At first, she chose the female, but changed her mind and went with the little red male. We bandied about possible names, and she came up with "Bromley," which is where we stay in Vermont. I also thought up "Chester," short for Manchester (a nearby town), but we decided that was a more fitting name for the biggest pup, a chestnut-colored dog.

We left Bromley at the breeder's for the duration of our trip, and stopped on the way back home yesterday, always intending just to leave with the Bromster. Well, our dad, who joined us on the vacation, suggested yesterday morning that if the other males hadn't been sold, we think about trying to cut a deal with the breeder for them, too. The idea was to maybe keep one as a companion for Jake, and sell the third.

Great idea ... for about a nano-second. For, the minute we put those dogs in the car and headed back to Mimi's place, we were smitten. Now it looks like we're probably keeping all three, though in which combinations is still to be determined. I'm quite partial to Chester -- the intrepid explorer and ringleader; though Townshend (which is a village, and lake, and park in Vermont -- not to mention a family name!), or "Townie," is quite adorable too, being the most people-oriented of the siblings.

For now, we are keeping all three at Mimi's (I fly home in a few days, and Dad will be driving back to Florida in a couple of weeks with one or two of them) and getting to know them. Also, the housetraining has begun (Oh joy! Up at 3:30 and 7 a.m. each morning for a pee break outside!) .

Frankly, we're in pup heaven!!!

 
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