Monday, January 5, 2015

Off The Record

Confession time! I totes lied about my underwear choice on NYE. I totally caved and wore red. I couldn’t help it! I have bouts of superstition and 2014 will be an incredibly hard year to top! I couldn’t risk not having a repeat of the same level of greatness in 2015. Whew, I feel so much better. I’m also ready to remain poor in 2015 as punishment for choosing love over wealth and success. I had an amazing NYE and I hope y’all did, too! I am incredibly grateful for the many new friendships and deepened “old” friendships bestowed upon me this past year!

I understand that you all come here to follow my nutritional and fitness journey but part of my choosing happiness equates to my dating life. The worst thing you can say to a reporter is, “Off the record.” Well, a lot of my writing material has to be off the record because it’s personal. I, obviously, put a ton of personal details on this blog but I can’t do the same when other parties are involved. To supplement my lack of detailing boys I meet or dates I go on, I offer you entertaining anecdotes about how my friends torture me over my perpetually-single life. My membership finally expired, thank you baby Jesus. What a waste of my life. I find it INCREDIBLY suspicious that the day my membership expires, I have 3 people interested in me, according to the e-mails. Ridiculous. My friends (cough, cough Tracey) have always wanted me to join the dating site Farmers Only. This past weekend, I finally agreed to let them use my information to see the cowboys on this site. Like all great decisions, this one was made over whiskey. Let’s just say it’s been 2 days and I’m ready to hit the delete button. Most bachelors are over the age of 40 and the one SUPA hottie we found is probably a fake photo. Who poses shirtless, abs perfectly highlighted, with a goat? Models. The answer is models. I admitted that my ideal match is a little bit country, which I define as driving a truck, having a dog with a manly name like Butch or Duke, and who listens to some country music. I would blame Gainesville but I’ve always loved pick-up trucks. It’s because I was raised in Kissimmee where we had Rodeo Day as a holiday from school. True story. My perfect-man details only fueled the Farmers Only fire. The only thing I can offer a farmer is that I look cute in cowboy boots, I’m willing to operate a tractor and I love animals. Beyond that, I’m not really into mucking stalls or roping steer. I’m assuming these are all things that farmers do. Regardless, browsing the few profiles with my friends over Crown Royal provided some entertainment. My profile doesn’t even have a photo and I’ve been “flirted” with 6 times. Guess farmers are on that whole looks don’t matter thing. Sorry, Hoss, this cowgirl is on to greener (and younger) pastures.

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