Okay, here I am - awesome as can be with very little to show for it. That is if you don't count my two children who are amazing beings and give me hope every day ... along with some premature greys.
In September my wife walked out on me and the kids. …something about “being married” getting in the way of her dating life -- or whatever. Yah, it stung and I lost lots of sleep and weight and other stuff that I realize are just luxuries and not necessary to survive. Through that nightmare I always had my kids. I survived on adrenaline and knowing that my little ones needed someone stable to push them through.
That was a hiccup but, my bad. I chose wrong.
Slap my wrist.
Life goes on.
I know I'm not any ones' ideal. I'm short and quirky and maybe a little too artsy for some to stomach. I don’t care about cars, alcohol, sports, I don’t have any tattoos and I’m not Mr. Fix-It. But, my kids love me and that's all that matters really. I just wish that there was somebody out there that I could count on, to hold, to come home to whose nose isn't running.
They say that behind every clown is a broken heart. That may explain why I destroy the room every day at work. One of the countless middle supervisors that troll my dept recently told me that he'd like my life because apparently I find the humor in everything and he was "envious." If only he knew - chuckle, chuckle, chortle...boo hoo.
I told him, in a rare unguarded moment, "I HAVE to laugh."
And I do.
Yah, I'm hilarious. I have a biting, sardonic sense of humor that some may find a bit off putting at first. Yet people scream with delight as if I were funny or something. I guess being the class clown ain't that bad. In the end they all know that I'm just kidding, and that's a good badge to wear. It's also, I found out, a safe way to blow off steam. Plus I've noticed the number one trait that most women want on Match is a man that can make ‘em laugh. I’m assuming that’s not just code for “tall, dark, handsome and rich” in which case I’m clearly out of the running.
So there's my sob story. It’s no different than the other hundred billion sob stories today. Don't hate even though, let's face it, hatas gonna hate.
So what am I looking for? I have a weakness for strong yet kind women. I have found that meeting somebody genuinely ‘nice’ is actually a challenge. I've always had a soft spot for petite Jewish women with long straight hair. Light to dark brown even reddish – surprise me. Don't ask me why, that's just how I'm wired. I'm also attracted to moms. I'm not looking for a mother, I'm still trying to unload mine. I just find soccer moms incredibly sexy. Sue me. Throw on a pair of dorky glasses some old sweats and pull your hair back in a pony tail and you can have my prized possession - my drums. It’s that serious!
I must clarify that a little black dress is a must. I do like to go out for corndogs and bumper car ride every once in a while.
I guess being married changes a man. Yesterday I was attracted to Natalie Portman or Anne Hathaway, today it's the mom in Modern Family or the mom on Diary of a Wimpy Kid.
Yeah, I know, kids dad = looking for a mom … any mom. Trust me, I didn't sign up on Match to do that. I can go to a soccer field on any given Saturday and find a dozen. I seriously want - nay, crave a companion - my equal. I want someone who’s going to stick around for the long haul. I want that someone special that makes me excited to start my day and gives me purpose because in the end that's the real reason that I plunked down the big bucks here on Match. Because it bought me hope. Hope that one day a once shy, quiet and currently single dad and his two awesome children can have a complete family, watch a sunset together, smile and be normal again … and go back home.
