First off, let me extend a warm welcome to my mom and my brother. Today for the first time they are finding out about the blog. I’ll let you all know how it goes…
One year ago today I clicked the “PUBLISH” button on WordPress for the first time. I had no clue what I was doing and prayed that I didn’t screw it up somehow. I still really don’t know what I’m doing, but I had less of a clue then.
My first day in business I had 46 hits and I would conservatively guess that 25 of them were mine. Now I get 46 non-me hits in the first hour of a new post being up. Things are heading in the right direction.
I’ve made lots of friends through the blog and a few of you I would even take a bullet for. I would only take one in the arm or leg, but a bullet is a bullet, ya know? Some of these friends I met right away after starting the blog and others I’ve only recently become friendly with. Either way, there are some great bloggers out there who I’ve laughed with and cried with (Man tears. I cried man tears).
These blogging friends have taught me a lot about how to do things the right way and they’ve been there with tips and ideas. I appreciate them all and I dig that you care about me and my little dog and pony show.
There have been a few highlights this past year, one of which comes courtesy of my friend Aaron. He’s a vile Celtics fan (is there any other kind?) and made a bet with me before the NBA Finals started.
We agreed that the loser would paint themselves in the other teams colors and do some sort of a humiliating video announcing the greatness of the other team. The Lakers, of course, won and THE VIDEO was very entertaining.
My Drama Queen became a TEENAGER this summer and in the spring I had to go buy BRAS for the first time. She SLAPPED a girl in the face a couple of weeks ago and is spending Christmas with her mom for the first time in eight years.
In the past year this blog has been all over the map with dating stories and funny stories of parenting, sitting alongside sad stories of my messed up life and the occasional rant. I appreciate your muddling through it all and that you come back the next day for another dose.
The blog has gotten a little recognition this year and I’m very proud of that. I’m honored to have made it onto Alltop’s list of Top Dad Blogs. I was voted Mr. March for the 2011 Hot Blogger Calendar (the project has since been scrapped) and I was asked to join the team at Man of the House last month as a Featured Writer.
I often come off as tough and uncaring but I care. I really do. Sometimes I care a bit too much what people think. That may sound weird, but it’s true. I think that’s a lot of the reason I’ve not said anything about the blog to my family until now.
My life has been a bit, uh, colorful, at times and I’m not ashamed of most of it, but it’s the type of thing I feel like my family wouldn’t always be on board with. Know what I mean? I’m pretty sure I’m going to hear from them in a little while.
In a year’s time I’ve had 169 posts, nearly 1,700 comments, over 20,000 visitors and more than 81,000 page views. Yesterday I had just 691 page views! I went into this not knowing what to expect, but I can guarantee you it wasn’t this.
This is where the blog is now and I leave you with my very first post. This is how the whole thing began on December 14, 2009 and it’s called Once Upon a Time.
Consider this to be Sex and the City on The Juice….
For years my friends, both male and female, have been advising me to write about some of my dating exploits. Word on the street is that I have some good stories as well as an interesting perspective on the dating world, as I have had full custody of a 12-year-old Drama Queen for 7 years now.
Actually, that’s not entirely accurate. I started out with a sweet 5-year-old who has slowly grown into the Queen. Am I to blame for that? Possibly. Mom’s not around, so it’s not cool to blame her. Some well-respected people tell me that drama queen mode is typical for a girl her age. I don’t know. You will find out as time goes on that I don’t always have a clue when it comes to chicks.
That brings me to my next point. My language. I’m not a sailor by any means, but I’m also not the quiet nerdy boy next door that uses proper language and terminology all the time. I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone, because I have the utmost respect for the female gender as a whole—though there are several exceptions to that rule.
So. If I occasionally use the term “chick”, “girl” or “hottie” I mean nothing bad. To me they are simply interchangeable words, much like “dude”, “bro” or “loser”. I occasionally call people “douche” or “tool” on the radio. The recipients pretty much always deserve it, but I have been known to be a little out of line once or twice. All part of my mystique, I guess.
Over the years I’ve done quite a bit of online dating with only one pretty decent success story. My daughter recently picked up a woman for me at Barnes and Nobel (another story for another day) and I’ve had a “fix-up” date or three along the way. I don’t generally pick up women in bars or in other social settings because, well, I’m not entirely smooth. It’s not to say that I couldn’t if I really wanted to, I just generally don’t feel like it. If I’m gonna have a woman look me over, roll her eyes and say “whatever”, I think I would rather that she do it in cyber-space where I can at least pretend that she deleted the e-mail by accident!
As I tell the stories to my friends I make up names for the ladies in a very Seinfeldian way. Eventually I had to start making the names a little more specific, since after a few “The Crazy Chick” stories I kept getting asked, “is this the same crazy chick as before or is this a new one?” So now I have stories about “The-chick-who-invited-me-out-for-my-birthday-then stuck-me-with-a-really-huge-dinner-check”, The Yankee Fan” and one of my personal favorites, “The Period One”.
Not all stories are bad. Some are good. Some are very good. So good that they’re almost fairy tale-esque. But then the fairy starts smoking crack and soon enough, it’s back to dating reality.
And finally, some notes on me. I like to think I’m a good catch. I have several female friends that have known me since “back in the day”. They tell me that any woman would be lucky to have me. Of course, now that I think about it, these are the same ones that never dated me in high school, so maybe they just say it out of guilt.
I cook and I cook well. I bake a little but generally with the help of Betty Crocker or Duncan Hines. I’m not a clean freak but I know how to use my vacuum and a bottle of Windex is pretty self-explanatory. I dress well. Maybe not all the time, but my clothes are almost always clean. I hate to iron, but I’ve done a few shirts in my day. Pants too! I’m occasionally funny, partially charming and even been called adorable a few times.
I’m not great looking. Some women have told me that I’m handsome. A few probably even meant it. I mean, I’m not fugly or anything. I’m just not George Clooney.
So that’s my dealio. I’m a single, full-time dad who just wants to find love. Is that so wrong? I have some stories to tell you, but I will leave them for next time…