Serial Date Killer

In the spirit of having a more balanced life, I decided that I'm gonna be a serial dater. At least until I find the right guy. I never really thought it'd be more like a serial date killer.

Let's just say I've had more Carrie Bradshaw moments than I'd like. The south african jewish forty-something that said he didn't care that I was a shiksa because he was "spiritual." He didn't celebrate Passover. Until he slipped and told me about how he had the best Seder ever this year. And that he loved baseball but couldn't understand why a Yankee fan wouldn't find Fenway exciting. I explained that going to Fenway for me would be like fucking another woman's husband. Yet another date wrapped up with smiles.

Or the Canadian gentleman who is the inventor of a hat made of socks (no I'm not making this up. He even gifted me with one.) He is a mad texter, which is a fun distraction. Until he started s'exting me about encounters that he really enjoyed. Just not with me. Although he was really sure that it was me. Just own up to mistake, eh? Another one bites the dust.

Well, that's just the last 3 weeks. It's pretty representative of the past few years. So, if you have any fine gentlemen to set me up with, let me know! I swear I'll be on my best behavior, as long as he a) doesn't lie, b) understands that Yankee fans hate the BoSox and c) remembers who I am. Too much to ask?