SO, I almost had a Bridget Jones moment this week.
I told you a little bit about the training meeting I went on Tuesday - the meeting where I learned about networking?
Well, at one point the facilitator was doing an exercise to teach us about how resourceful people are. She asked volunteers to stand up and address the room with a problem in the hopes someone else there would be able to come up with a quick solution.
One of the first volunteers stood up and said she was having a difficult time with a new little dog she got, one of those ankle biter types, and was looking for some kind of help with discipline. Immediately another lady raised her hand and suggested a place called Puppy Kindergarten as a place for getting the little rat dog some instruction.
Another woman said she was in need of an inexpensive, second-hand piano so her kids had something to bang around on. A gal quickly said her mother-in-law was looking to get rid of an old piano and volunteered to exchange numbers at the end of the meeting.
And this was when I was about to have my BJ moment.
How ballsy would it be to stand up in front of a group of 70 women and say something to the effect of "Hi. I'm looking for a husband. Somebody nice and professional. Around the age of 30 or so. Preferably someone who doesn't already have any kids. Someone who's not into wife beating or carousing. I'm a great cook and have an exceptional touch with all things domestic. I am crafty and yet can change my own spare tire. I'm really family oriented but don't intend on giving up my career. Does anybody have a great brother/friend/co-worker who fits the bill?"
I mean, part of me thinks it would be hilarious to actually have stood up and done that. No doubt, I would have been saying what so many other women in that meeting were thinking. But how desperate would I have looked? How pathetic? How needy?
And so that was my almost-Bridget Jones moment. The kind of situation where everyone would be laughing - you just don't know whether they're laughing with you or at you.
That doesn't mean I can't do a little legwork to find my own Prince Charming.
No matter how silly it sounds - for about two years now I've been offering a Finders Fee of sorts for anyone who introduces me to my future husband. Cold hard cash handed over after the vows are exchanged. I've told my co-workers, I've told friends. I have a whole group of friends in Lexington vying for the chance to cash in on my crazy offer, and I've got one friend here in Cincinnati (Big Blue Blood) who is bummed one of her prospects didn't pan out.
The offer still stands for any of you blog readers.
Another new development: I have recently revived my interest in a dating website. As they say, all the kids are doing it, so I've decided I might as well do it, too. Who knows whether it will work. I've pretty much reached the I don't care anymore point, and everyone says that's a good thing because that's supposedly when the magic will happen.
Hey. It's a 44 dollar investment that covers three months. That's cheaper than a gym membership (which, by the way, never turned up a date for me - studly or otherwise).
I'll keep y'all posted.