Sun & Moon over the Hudson

So while I keep you all in suspense of the aforementioned blind date(s) that was to occur in my not so distant future (and did, indeedy occur... wink), here are a few pics of my company's summer outing. We set sail from Chelsea Piers last Thursday and although the forecast left a bit to be desired, we at least left dry land (actually not so dry at the time) to brave the wild winds and rolling waves of the Hudson River. Our crew ate and drank our way from Governor's Island to the GW Bridge... A grand feat we so greatly accomplished!

To Blind Date or Not to Blind Date

So I've always been the type of person who counts fate as a valuable reason for the comings and goings of different people in our lives. I've always trusted the universe to bring the right (or wrong) people my way and allow everything to happen in a natural order of occurance... Nothing faked or planned or forced or staged. Completely El Naturale for me, thank you. It's like John Mayer says "Thats the way this wheel keeps turning..." And I fully believe it.

As I was explaining to D-Roomie today on our walk home from work, I'm the type of gal who's destined to be walking down a New York City sidewalk, and just as I've taken a glance down at my pretty, shiny, high-heeled shoe (though sadly no Manolo), I've bumpbed into the most perfectly suitable stranger right before me. I've outright vowed never to type in the cheezy web address of say, match.com (this doesn't count), or post a tacky singles ad in the Village Voice. No way! Ick, not me.

So the problem these days there in lies in the fact that everyone and their damned mother thinks that I NEED to be set up on a blind date. I'm talking friends, co-workers, parents, neighbors, and (wince), even my doorman. It's like someone has stamped a big sign on my head that shouts "SINGLE!", not to mention that they honestly believe I can't find the right man on my own.

One of my friends actually came up to me the other day with the notion that he had the "most perfect guy" for me. "Why do you say that?" I asked. "Because, well... I was just thinking... He's a single guy in his late twenties in Manhattan... and your a single girl right? You've never spoken of having a boyfriend right now or anything. So I was just thinking... You two would be PERFECT!"

Riiiight. Great. So judging on the notion that I don't have a damned ring on my finger yet I'm perfect for any single dude in a 10 mile radius of Manhattan that isn't boning another chick on a regular basis. Yup, sounds about right to me.

So here I am, receiving all sorts of unsolicited text messages, vm's and emails from all eligable bachelors rounded up by my network of "Loved Ones" and I feel like some sort of bait being dangled before swarming sharks. Okay, okay, maybe that is a little harsh of a statement... But I do feel like my single life has somehow been offered up on a platter, being coaxed against all cosmic odds to fight the El Naturale and conform to a tragic set up.

But what if that's just not me?