...but the energy is out there. I must be sending out some signals because a lot more attractive men have approached me lately. Male attention, I have found, has little to do with age or beauty. It's not even perfume, tight-fitting clothing, or pheromones. I think it's invisible sound waves that only men can hear, kind of like a dog whistle.

Yesterday, I met a guy at the deli who works as a investment banker graduated from Stanford. Very cute. And very young. Unfortunately, we quickly hit the twenty-something wall of inexperience that renders the hottest guys into little babies. Yes, your job title sounds really important, and I know Santa Claus isn't real. I only want to be a mommy to people who come out of my vagina. (Also, why I don't have cats).

Then there was Farmer's Market Guy. Very hot. Not too young. And polite. A little too polite in a shifty-eyed Eddie Haskell way. All I need is one "You look beautiful," and maybe one "I like your outfit," and I'm set. Anymore, and he's a mack truck in line with David Duchovny at the rehab center, and I'm officially creeped out.

A few weeks, there was Coffee Shop Guy, who I realized I liked inside the coffee shop, but not when he walked me to my car. (That probably won't work for a relationship.) There was also Swimming Pool Guy, (Please Note: I don't know where I have been because...THE SWIMMING POOL IS THE BEST PLACE TO MEET GUYS), but he only wants to swim in the fast lane.

Ok, so maybe I'm a little like a bed of nails. More like tacks turned upside down. There's gotta be somebody out there who likes porcupines.

Seriously, though, I'm talking to strange men and not assuming that they are serial killers. At least not right away. This is progress.

Just for today, I'm open to meeting guys.