"Oh where, oh where have the normal men gone, oh where, oh where can they be?

I will preface this posting by stating emphatically that I am not a man hater. Rather, I love men, for their broad shoulders, adorable inability to multi-task, tactical avoidance of confrontation or any type of serious discussions with their "women", and especially for their wonderfully emotion free, pragmatic decision making abilities. And I firmly believe that there are still honest, kind, relatively tall and at least fairly handsome men left out their for us single gals to choose from. Yes, you read the verbiage correctly, "relatively tall, fairly handsome." I am not a defeatest, and I retain my faith in an exciting, compatably matched partnership for us all. However that is tempered with practicality (which I have been sorely lacking in my life) based on my own observations. The proverbial check list we all secretly harbor, (I am the biggest culprit) comprised of our perfect matches "criteria", inclusive of a six figure income, Fabio's hair, the abs of Adonis and wit of Robin Williams is unrealistic.. Create a new checklist with important, attainable criteria, back shelve the unrealistic, and sigh in acceptance of the realization that Prince Charming's horse broke a shoe, his navigation system is on the fritz, he missed the fork in the road, and the perfect man died in a fiery car crash. Or as my friends and I like to put it, "Kevin is still in a coma." The good ones are still out there; I hold steadfast to my grocery store fantasy of the frozen food aisle, where my true match, a kind, successful, attractive, funny, imperfect man will pop his head around the economy size freezer and compliment my taste in Lean Cuisine.
The philosophical out of the way, a segue into the blog title for tonight, "where have all the normal men gone?" serves as the humorous recounting of a close friend's ridiculous and semi horrifying experience of not once, not twice, not thrice, but seriously, and I repeat, in honor of our favorite medical drame, "seriously" a four time occurence of being stood up in one evening. I know the good ones are out there, but why do we keep meeting the losers?
They met that fateful night on her 28th birthday, nearly one month ago. The girls were kicking it up 80's style on the dance floor when he glimpsed her face and knew he had to have her. Ok, really, he and his buzzed friend asked the birthday girl and her friend for their numbers, and they planned a potential meet up for the following weekend. The first red flag was that the wing man of the birthday girls friend decided not to show to the first double date. Though I am sure the two girls and only him on the date were the fulfillment of his adolescent fantasy, as for the female counterpart, being the third wheel can do hell on the ego. The girls chalked it up to the unchecked randomness that is life and moved on. Then this last Friday, Heckle and Jeckle decide to contact my friend and her friend again for another attempt at the proverbial double date,. Out of boredom they agreed to meet up at a bar/restaurant near the beach, or rather the beneficence of second chances. On the drive to the restaurant, visions of the last debacle flashed through her mind, but my friend, if anything, is a random free spirit, and thought "what the heck?". . Famous last words. The girls waited for over an hour for these clowns, and then left the restaurant for another bar to try and salvage some semblance of a fun evening. Later that evening, idiot one calls my friend and makes all sorts of excuses about running late, the dog at his homework, excuse after excuse for never showing up, which nearly fell upon deaf ears. However, out of pity the girls opted to provide one last chance..Again fateful words, for the girls arrived at the second destination of the night only to be stood up again. The! guys! never! showed! up! Secretly hoping they had suffered from the fiery car crash that undoubtedly prevented their arrival at each bar, my friend received a 3 am phone call from the loser, and a repeat text the next day insinuating that it was her fault the plans got mixed up. She very succintly detailed the events of the evening, and finished with a polite but firm explanation as to why she would not be able to go out with him again. These were not 21 year old children, but rather 34 year old men with the obvious brain span of infant monkeys. Girls, repeat this daily affirmation, "there are still good men out there". And always bring a compass to assist navigating the lost souls worthy of your direction.