Because it’s Spring and the weather is fantastic and I want to be outside doing stuff, oh, and because I’m lonely too, I signed up for online personals again.

I don’t know why I put myself through this torment every year, really. It must be the tiny little eternal optimist in me that eventually gets heard over my loud internal pessimist. Every year though, or more often, I sign myself up for a series of bad dates, strange people, and uncomfortable rejections. Only once did it work out well for me, but he’s long gone too.

The longer I do this, the harder my heart gets, until I wonder why I’m even bothering. It’s exhausting, really, and so hard on the self-esteem, but being alone all the time is too, in a different direction. It might sound stupid to actually pay good money to be ignored online, but it is easier than being ignored in a bar. I don’t really get out to the bars even these days, because who am I going to go with? Going by myself just smacks of pathetic, and who will drive me home if I want to drink? Sitting at a bar and not drinking, man, that’s a fate worse than death.

It’s too easy to just keep to myself on the weekends when I don’t have the kids, saying that I have this or that to do (generally trailer repair) but the weeks slip away too easily for me and I’ll look up one day and be fifty, and still alone. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be single for the rest of my life, although I do recognize that I will survive just fine if that turns out to be the case. I’m happier in a relationship though, and a better person in general, I think. Even if the thought of an actual relationship scares the pants off of me right now; let’s just stick to a date, shall we?

I can tweak those profiles until they’re as fine-tuned as I can possibly get them; make them so they really sort of do represent who I am in 200 words or less, but who I am is sort of a specific taste, and the men who like a woman like me aren’t easy to find, especially online. Maybe I’d get more results if I went with more generic things, but what’s the point of hiding who I am only to have a good date with someone who turns out to be morally opposed to hunting? What would I want with a man like that? No, I prefer to show who and what I am right out in front for all to see, even if that does run off a certain number of men. No false advertising with this woman, not even in the weight check box (which fortunately is down to an honest average these days.) If the men are used to woman lying and fudging and assume that I am too, well, that’s too bad. I’m not, and shame on those women who are (even though a bunch of men do it too; shame on them too.)

So I suppose if I want to have any success at this, I need to do again what I did last time, and that was to make first contacts, meet as many men as possible, and see what the cat drags in. I’m going to have to keep the rule of ten in mind: for every ten emails, you get one response; for every ten responses, you might get one date; and for every ten dates, you might get one interesting enough to keep around a little while. What does that add up to, one in a thousand? Damn, I better get busy!

p.s. the duck is still alive, and seems to be getting stronger. None of the others have hatched yet.

I came home from work yesterday afternoon, and there was a tiny hole in one of the eggs, with a little beak sticking out. This surprised the hell out of me, as I thought it would be more like Saturday before they were ready to hatch.

So I watched, and I waited. Four hours went by, and the little guy hadn’t made any progress, and his peeps were getting quieter and quieter.

So you know I helped. Carefully, and only a little, but by bedtime, I had a feeble little ducky on my hands.

I set up the trough with some bedding and the light and the food and water. I moved the incubator into a room that I can shut the door on, in case any more decided to make their appearances in the night and get eaten by the very interested cat.

I really expected to see either a little fluff ball or a cold dead duck in the morning. What I got instead was something in between. He’s too weak to stand on his own, but if I pick him up and hold his head over the water, he’ll drink. I may have got a little bit of food down his beak, but I’m not sure. He sure did put up a fuss when I cleaned the crusty poo off his backside though, and that’s a good sign that he’s getting stronger.

I decided against taking them to school. They don’t like to be jostled too much at this stage, and if this guy is any indication, they’re not going to be too hardy. Seamus understands.

So, we’ll see. I’ll give the rest of them a few more days, but really, I expect all of this to have been for nothing. This guy probably isn’t going to make it, and who knows about the rest. But it’s been fun and educational, and if another one hatches, maybe the kids will be home to watch.