Searing heat

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.  Then why the F am I still single (apart from the fact that I’m quite discerning)?!





I once offered to make dinner for a date I was only lukewarm about.  I was pretty hung over from a crazy night out the night before, and offered to cook for him rather than go out. He wanted me to come to his place for dinner, but well, I didn’t like him enough to do that.  So, instead I suggested I make him dinner.  That was my first mistake.

What did I have in the house (you see, going out to the grocery store when, the night before,  one  was introduced to Bubble shots is not appealing. Just sayin’.)?  

I had potatoes. Ok, that’s easy. 

I had fresh green beans.  Butter. Balsamic.  Red wine.

And, here’s the kicker:  filet mignon.  True story.  That’s all I had. That was my second mistake.




I didn’t realize these were “mistakes” until a friend of mine pointed out that making steak – filet!! – for a guy is telling him I am interested and, perhaps, wanting to get naked, having seduced him with my seared beef and fluffy mashed potatoes. 


In hindsight I should have made pasta.

 Oh, the steaks were awesome and he was nice enough, but he was more than an hour late, and brought four bottles of wine with him.  He drank two of them, by himself, and was angry when I wouldn’t sleep with him.

A gem.

A gem from the lovely world of online dating.




At first glance, the shiny world of online dating is really attractive.  It’s a virtual menu of men. 

Think of online dating like a menu from an overpriced French restaurant: the items look like they’ll be bad for you, and you'[ll pay a hefty sum only to spend an uncomfortable night dealing with the effects of too much wine and too much fattening fare.

I’ve been on and off a few sites for far too long.  At first they were entertaining – the world was my oyster and, then, in a different city from my current one, the choices were endless , fatty caloric indulgences that I was all too eager to try. Until the date I described above.  None of them were a satisfying meal. They left me with indigestion, heartburn, or bloating.  Not how I like to remember my meals.

In my current city, there seem to be significantly less menu items that I want to spend my time or money on, much less ingest.

Most of the men who want to order me off of the menu either can’t read, blatantly ignore my profile, or are closer to my parents’ age than to mine. Ew.





You wonder why I cook so much (apart from really , really enjoying it)? Well, I’d rather have a meal that I know won’t hurt.

My food always agrees with me. Food doesn’t judge or criticize. Doesn’t care what I look like, whether I gained a few LBs or have no makeup on.   I have control. I am awesome.





Ok, apart from the fact that I actually am awesome, and I can sear a mean filet, this online dating thing does suck mightily.  But, where else should a girl meet men?  Bars? I don’t think so. Clubs? Sure 15 years ago.  Wine tastings? Don’t seem to be many straight men at those (but I’ll keep trying).  So, while I hope to meet Mr. Right doing what I enjoy (dining, shopping, wine tasting, hiking, cooking, learning), in the meantime, I intend to try new recipes, literally and metaphorically, until I find the literal and metaphorical meal that really lights my fire.That means entertaining the idea of possibly going out with another yahoo in the hopes that I’ll be surprised and that they’ll not only be decent , literate human beings with all of their teeth, but that one of these guys might actually be someone I want to spend time with.

I can be saucy and hot, but I don’t cause indigestion, unlike so many recent dates. I don’t think Misters Right Now would mind a little heat, but I will not be searing any filet or making a balsamic reduction for any of *them*. And if you’re one of those guys trying to order me off the menu, at least check the ingredients and the price before you try to order.

I always retain the right to refuse service.





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