You'll meet a tall, dark stranger

Gabrielle the Psychic just won't let go. In her latest e-mail she has news. The power of the card of cups (brimming with vodka, perhaps?) has revealed to her that someone out there (I do love the way she doesn't feel the need to narrow it down to a gender, age group or even a continent) secretly loves me. Well, I'll be damned. I wonder if this particular person is aware of these feelings or if they are a secret to him/her too?

According to her I should have felt this in the past few days too. Not so sure myself. I'm sure that Le Frenchie's sudden interest is only passing and a purely professional one. I'm sure there's no  better aphrodisiac than the smugness induced by ogling exes resumés and the subsequent gloating at the realization of how far they themselves have come. I should know. I do it too.

Though the best friend of the fiancé of one of my best friends ( I know, it's all very Gossip Girl) has taken an active interest in me on Facebook. We've met once. I was drunk and called him "a drunken penis" (possibly in Yiddish) And that encounter, along with my changed relationship status (I'm not going to change it again until I can do it in the middle of the night, with nothing but the sparkle of my massive engagement ring to provide me the light required )has prompted him to pursue me in a more deep and meaningful manner. 

He says he's impressed with me and has been waiting for someone like me to come along for 10 years. He's even brought up the subject of taking me out on a date. So far I've been able to politely guide the conversation to less touchy subjects. Though he has offered to keep kosher and Shabbat for me. Awwww, I can hear you say. I, too, would probably find that endearing. If only he didn't look like a Serbian war criminal.

But I think the scenario I'd prefer is that my secret admirer is my not so secretly admired one. Though I wouldn't mind finally seeing some action instead of words. Actions and carats.