Maturity. Finally.

I am the victim of constant matchmaking. I'm friends with lots of married women, who look at a single woman as a project. I go with it, as I find the results endlessly entertaining. (Despite not being particularly useful.) I found myself in such a situation on Friday, quite unexpectedly. 
Before my would-be suitor appeared on my radar, though, he had a bit of stiff competition. 


One man stared at me from his table of shot-consuming buddies before approaching us. He said he was pretty sure he knew me, which was not true to the best of my knowledge. However, he had a nice smile so I told him he might be correct. For the record, I find this approach totally acceptable--however, it does help if one gives some sort of clue about how he might know you. 
Later, a gentleman far too old for me walked by and stopped in his tracks. I had my chin in my hand and he mimicked my gesture and called me The Thinker. "Whatcha thinking about?" he smirked at me, a misguided attempt to flirt, I suppose. 
"Gin," was my flat answer before returning to my conversation. He spent the rest of the evening flitting around the bar, flirting with many blondes who were much, much too young for him. (And far more attractive.)
Returning from the restroom, a middle aged man in dress pants, nice shoes, and a baseball jersey (yup.) stopped me and said, "I'm sorry, what was your name again?" When I told him I hadn't given it to him once, he offered his hand and introduced himself. When I went for the handshake, he switched it up and kissed my hand instead. Thanks. I excused myself mid-compliment. But it's ok, because he was clearly drunk and surely wasn't that offended. Also I didn't care.


Fortunately, I had spotted a tall attractive guy near our table. As if by magic, he appeared at my table later. In this instance, magic is actually my fabulous friend T. She is an energetic force to be reckoned with. T knows him and pulled him over, calling my name. We were introduced and he was bossy enough to tell me I should get out of my seat...but he said it with a great smile on his face so I let that slide. T very subtly said, "This is M. M, this is Amanda. I have to pee," before disappearing. We chatted for a few, nothing of consequence. He told me he had noticed me and thought I was lovely but he had a girlfriend. And you know what? That was totally awesome. I mean it. It should have been a bummer but it was fantastic. He was HONEST ABOUT IT and I have had a string of men withholding this particular bit of information. I HATE THAT.
 So even though it was kind of sad that a cute, cool guy thinks I'm beautiful but already has a lady in his life...actually...that's really sad. Right, I was making a point! Even though he's unavailable, we had an interaction that didn't leave me feeling all slimy and gross. 


PROGRESS, guys. PROGRESS. 

Reverse Stalking.

Get ready, readers, for an unpopular opinion. (Please hold your surprise that I might say something you aren't in love with.) 


Technology is messing a lot of things up.


I'm not even talking on the user level--that's a blog for another day. The pain in the ass I'm referring to is the impact technology has on the trash heap of our social lives. As we walk through life, there are people who stay--they're kept handy, within reaching distance. You don't even bother putting them away. There are people stored away on shelves, behind glass--preserved and shown off when the mood strikes. Some people we inherit from loved ones. We have a history with them and could never part with those people. There are people who come to us in the wrong form--great people, just not suited for you personally. We give them a try...and then recycle them, compost them. Send them off and hope they become something great--for someone else. 
And then. Then there are people who come into your life and just cannot stay. We throw them away and hope we never see them again. This is the toxic friend. The boyfriend you don't want any of your girls to date, and not out of weird jealousy. And then they are gone, hauled away. 


This is not the case anymore. Before I got a Facebook account, I never had to face my exes unless I sought them out. I could rest easy that anything I threw away stayed away. With the myriad social networks in our faces, you actually cannot stop running into people from your past. People you may know? Yeah, I might know that guy. I might have had Christmas dinner with his family. I might have had his tongue in my mouth before. Do I want to friend him? No, I do not. Thanks for asking. You can try telling Facebook you don't know him, but when you have 47 mutual friends even Facebook starts to think you're lying. TAKE A HINT, INTERNET. And now I can tell when these guys are going to a party with some of those 47 mutual friends or when one of them marries some poor unsuspecting girl and everyone tags a million pictures of them. I know way too much.


I'm not even ranting about privacy right now. (ANOTHER BLOG FOR ANOTHER DAY.) What I'm saying is I JUST WANT MY EXES TO STAY IN THE PAST, INTERNET. It's bad enough that I was half a second from hiding at work last week when I thought the sub next door was a guy I dated. Just because our email exchanges are somewhere in the recesses of my account, I do not want his address popping up when I import contacts to Skype. I don't want to follow him on Twitter, nor do I want him in my circles on Google+. WE BROKE UP, OK? My social media needs to catch up on that news.