Sexless in the City

Sometimes reading romance novels doesn’t quite prepare you for a love life...

For this 30-year-old urbanite, love is always a misadventure: The Harvard Lickwit, Hippie the Groper, the 5% Man, and the Ad Weasel. These and many other men wander in and out of her life — but never her bed.

Sunday, January 09, 2005

Coming soon to this space ...

Updated 9-something p.m.

How Anna met that middle-aged West Coast man as predicted! (And yes, his name was even Tom.)

Right now, off to bed in my newly reassembled singleton. Still no purity ring, and the dime seems to also be in hiding. Fill in application or punch-line as you see fit; I’m too tired to be witty.

Check back later Monday, though! More tidbits from my blog-slash-blond consultant (if I can only remember our banter) and reports of a Christian dating scene actually worse than the one I’m in.

Plus, Anna ponders a new career/educational offering: a Crush-Recovery Therapy Course (CouRTe-C, for short), and life as not a matchmaker but a matchbreaker (this would actually be a good thing).

Stalling, stalling, stalling. Um, yeah. Follow-up interview in the morning, plus still catching up on sleep so there will be no blog love tonight. Sorry. I sorta blew my wad, anyway, rattling off an update on my other blog. But don’t miss the most-entertaining comment banter below! Frasier was in rare form indeed ...