sigh

Dear God,

Please deliver me from dating. I've walked away for now. I only had one man left still emailing after abandoning all searches. Now he, my last hope, started writing in detail about his therapy sessions. Therapy sessions, God! I haven't even met this man and he is telling me about emotional turmoil that doesn't have to do with sports!

God, if you are a woman (which I think you are), please give me the strength to be happy alone. You know how wonderful men are. You also know how many bad, bad, bad, bad, badbadbad matches I've met this year. Okay, two years. Three years.

I wanted to go on a date with this last guy, God. The emails before this week were so funny and thoughtful! He is a professional poker player! What a great story that would make! "Yes, once I actually dated a professional poker player."

I now know that you are punishing me for objectifying someone based on their strange profession. I should know better after talking to so many men with dirty nun fantasies.

Yes, God. I hear your rebuke. It was clear to me when this man began detailing his tears and emotional state during therapy. He has been crying for 2 days now because someone lied to him. And he told me about it. I have to walk away from the crazy man. Goodbye, poker player. All doors to possible dates are now closed.

God, give me strength. Please let me be happy and healthy until you bring a liberal Christian man who is not too good looking but has a stable job to my door. May he also be funny and have a respectable penis.

Love, your lonely and tired child,
Jenny