Online dating #3

Folks, meet Mitchell. Mitch is 27, works in a vaguely police related role, and has a gorgeous 6 year old daughter we shall call Valentina. He’s been single 4 or 5 months after a long engagement, he left his partner because she was cheating on him and he finally grew a spine. There’s hours and hours of chatting on mutual night shifts, instant cyber chemistry, and finally, finally LJ seems to have found a suitable manfellow in the jungle that is online dating.


Due to work schedules and the respective offspring, its nearly 2 weeks before Mitch and LJ are able to meet for lunch. In the meanwhile, there’s facebook friending and flirting, cheeky sms sending, and daily chatting. Then, the night before the lunch that has taken forever to arrive, LJ and Mitchell are having a quick chat. She makes a comment about whether there are going to be any major surprises tomorrow – a wheelchair, a missing eyeball, a burgundy facial fungus. He goes silent. He starts typing, then stops. Then starts. She gets that sinking feeling. Finally the message pops up. He’s sorry he didn’t tell me earlier, but he didn’t want to scare her off. He’s got a funky mouth infection condition requiring regular removal of teeth and eventually an upper denture. He completely understands if she wants to cancel tomorrow’s date, but he has that please-don’t-break-my-heart air about him. She I immediately start to say that no, its fine, date is on, I’m sure its not that bad. But then I stop. I need, want and deserve an entire, normal, no major issues type man. Surely, if I learned anything from (ex)Boyfriend, it is that its not my job to fix men. To go on sympathy dates and see if I can make do with what’s available. So I took a deep breath, put on my superhero knickers and agreed that yes, I probably would have to cancel the date. Oh man, I am a terrible person.


Anyone who knows me well, knows my aversion to anything related to the mouth. Saliva has me curling my toes, sputum has me gagging and when patients ask me to clean their dentures, I’m not ashamed to say I double glove and run them under water. With my eyes shut. Those who know me really really well know that I love a good pash. A man with an infection type disease of the mouth? I’d really really struggle.


In other news, I put on 1kg this week, and sat for the afternoon with my unwell Grandma in the hospital. This particular blogger needs to put herself to bed where Lovechild is curled up and waiting for snuggles.


ETA: I feel like I should do a separate blog on the weight gain, but I’ll stick it in here instead. Didn’t track at all, realised how badly I was doing by about the third day of the WW week (I’ll start tomorrow, honest) and then gave up. I did heaps of exercise – both incidental and …whatever the opposite of incidental is. Purposeful? The type where you front up at the gym and do whatever the sweaty person at the front of the room tells you to do, anyway. No luck, gained a kg, I’ll be more awesome this week, promise. There’s a wager on it with my favourite fatmamma. (I still can’t cope with calling you that.)


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Selina
    Dec 01, 2011 @ 09:08:35

    Call me by name. I’m not anon.

    You are awesome. x


  2. Karen
    Dec 09, 2011 @ 15:06:37

    You are not a terrible person. You deserve a Prince Charming all of your own 🙂


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