Date Antidote For Chocolate Addicted Personality Disorder ("CAPD")

Wow, thanks for all the support and great ideas about my apartment! I can see that the black mold really freaked y'all out. Me too! You guys truly are the best. I love and appreciate all of your comments so much. Thank you!! Candyminx, I'm totally buying a mini-pedicure tub. Awesome idea.

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This past weekend was so-so. It limped by on Saturday, owing in part to the fact that I completely and catastrophically BINGED Friday night and was still in a food coma and too ill to rouse myself into action on Saturday. OK, so it wasn't "catastrophic." I mean that's being a little dramatic. It was however 12 fudgsicles, some cottage cheese, blueberries, and a pile of cherries. Twelve Fudgsicles! And you thought eight was bad!!

Actually, after just re-reading that post, I, err, don't think I even told you I had eaten 8 in an earlier binge. Dang it. Well, the truth is out now. As I said, fudgsicles should come with a warning label. A huge one, similar to the skull and cross bones that the Senator in "Thank You For Smoking" wanted to put on the front of cigarette packages. Except the skull and cross bones should be an obese person who is at least 800 pounds, like a "Feedie," who has sacks of flesh hanging down their legs pooling around their ankles. Or better yet, that naked guy from the Borat movie who rolled around the bed with Borat and gave me an image of what some men look like that I'm still trying in vain to forget.

So... I binged and I don't know why. I had had a great week, a good day, and had just come from seeing the Bourne Ultimatum with Em (it was AWESOME by the way). Life was good, I was craving something sweet, and after foregoing my usual junior mints at the movies I felt like I deserved something sweet. I was feeling so good and strong that I conned myself into thinking that I could handle buying a box of fudgsicles and eating just one.

Hah! I showed Me! To Me's horror, I ate the whole box. That'll show Me next time she thinks about tempting us like that. Humph.

... But, that's not the whole truth. It's the truth, but it's not the whole truth. The whole truth is that in addition to feeling happy and good about myself, I was also feeling just the slightest bit ... discouraged about other things in my life. I was feeling a tad blue. It was Friday night, I was home by 12:30 am, had no one to snuggle with, my friends were all going out of town for the weekend, and me with no date for Saturday night. Need I say more? It's funny how your feelings can ping-pong around so rapidly from one day to the next, or maybe that's just me?

Anyway, why did I not leave town with my friends, you ask? Why did I not have a date for Saturday night? In response to the first question, I could have left the city and gone to the Hamptons or out to Long Island but I didn't want to. Instead, I wanted to stay in the city, get some good rest, and go running in Central Park both days. I was really tired from last week and needed to chill. I also didn't want to eat a lot of junk, and I didn't want to get trashed. My intentions were pure, productive, and positive. It's in the actions that everything fell apart.

Now, on to the second question, the date-less issue. I suppose there are many reasons why a relatively good-looking and fairly spectacular human being like myself would not have a date on a Saturday night. I mean, I'm only in this boat with thousands of fantastic women all over New York (and the rest of the country). A lot of the reasons have to do with the fact that this 32-year old has standards, isn't into meaningless hook-ups, divides men into the kissable and non-kissable category and in the past has only gone out with the former, refrains from dating cocky male-chauvinist pigs, and would rather be alone then spend her time with someone she wasn't interested in.

Putting those reasons aside, the two other main reasons I didn't have a date last Saturday night were that (1) I had been putting my dating energy into texting with a dashing though unavailable 42-year old who's currently living in California, and (2) I had refrained from seriously considering going out with anyone from Match.com, mainly because all of the internet prospects were dull, old, totally incompatible, or not cute at all (and I was crushing on IP - the dashing 42-year old).

Now that I've dragged you through this tortured post about binging and boys, allow me to leave you with something positive. This week, I decided things were going to be different. I am not going to be a slave to my ping-ponging emotions, and I am not going to drown my sorrows in fudgsicles, at least not for another month. Instead, I resolved this afternoon that this was the week that I was going to go on a date with some lucky gentleman from Match.com. Yep, this week's the week.

As of two hours ago, I had 2 dates set up, one for tomorrow night, and the second one for Friday, and I'm angling for a third. The best part of all of this is that all three guys, at least from their pictures, emails, and profiles seem cute, interesting, and relatively cool. Maybe they do exist in cyberspace?

Take that fudgsicles! Take that Me! We're going on 2 dates, maybe 3. You're sneaky, but even you couldn't find the time to binge on that schedule.