If the following post just seems scatterbrained, it's my fault.
My fault for not getting this down on paper while it was still fresh in my mind, an' my fault for not following doctor's orders to get more rest.
My body likes to work on only 4hrs. of sleep.

Magic number: 2

What exactly do I mean by magic number?
To those that have known me for awhile, it's the number of ladies I'm currently dating/talking to heavily.
Could be 4, but I can't read mixed signals.

I mention that magic number for two reasons.

One: to contradict a more recently popular sentiment about me that I'm a manwhore.
I'm not looking to, nor do I plan to ever, date 17 women at the same time again.
I don't have the energy, resources, and luck with time management to pull that off.
Besides, manwhore would imply that I'm actually having sexual relations.
I'm pretty sure I'm not.
Hurrah for self-imposed celibacy.
Seriously, try it.
You think more clearly once your body adjusts.
Running off on a tangent... my bad.

Two: because one of the ladies leads to a fun story.
Let me tell you a story...

Last week I found myself interviewing for a Marketing/Sales position for a promotions group that's based out of Downtown SD.
I bring out my standard moderately good looks & charming demeanor that land me a secondary interview w/ upper-management.
Apparently, I interview too well.
HR guy likes me so much, he introduces me to the VP of marketing for my secondary interview.
Only things I can find myself thinking sitting outside her office are "crap! where the hell did I leave my good dress shoes?!" and "why didn't I spend more time ironing my clothes?"

What seems like an eternity lost in self-conflict is actually just a matter of seconds.
The door opens to reveal a stunning 5'7-5'8 without heels brunette beauty.
I can definitely see myself working here.

Interview started off standard, same questions as before.
My laid-back, playful self throws out jokes an' anecdotes in response.
Smiles, laughing at my cheesier jokes, leaning forward, and absentmindedly playing with her hair...
Signs of interest.
In me.
Signs of flirting?
How did I get to this stage?
And am I really in it?
To answer the questions in my head she reaches over to my tie and tells me "I like penguins too."

To most people, that would be considered the 2nd or 3rd sexiest combination of words you can tell me.
Coming from her, I would agree with the masses.
The hint of cleavage noticed by my peripheral vision earlier also helped.
That an' her leaning forward to show off previously noted hint of cleavage.
If it wasn't for the desk between us, I would practically be motor-boating what I guessed were 36B.
To get the job, I would if I had to.

I want to say our entire "interview" lasted a lil' over an hr.
I'm guessing the actual interview was around 15mins.
To sum up, it was mostly flirting.
It also ended it with her telling me "I'm not going to hire you because I'd be worried about sexual harrassment."
Like she isn't already?

I got a number.
I lost out on a career-opportunity.
I found myself a beautiful, witty, girlfriend prospect.
I'm still searching for a source of steady income.
Turns out they're 36C.

Mixed feelings really.
A part of me should be bitter, but I find too much humor in this situation an' the fact that we've already been on three dates.
I'm enjoying what life sends my way.
I just need to adjust to not being able to provide/give as much as I'd like to.

The other bachelorette?
Just a Grad student/Starbucks employee.
Yea, boring.
That story only involves a butter croissant thrown at my face.