In keeping with my recent focus on my terrible dating history (I’m in the process of writing a new chunk of material on it) my friend Dana messaged me on Twitter about an online contest Marie Claire Magazine was holding. They’re looking for readers to submit their worst date stories, and then they’re going to select the best [worst] ones and feature them on their website.
She thought it was perfect for me. And I think maybe she was right. I’ve written about my worst date ever on this blog already, back in 2007. If you haven’t read my “The Worst Date Ever. Ever.” posts or if you need a refresher, you can read Pt. I here. And if you haven’t had enough, here is the conclusion. I submitted it to their site yesterday afternoon, and last nite they postedÂ this on their Twitter page:
YAY! They liked it!!! Glad they could see the humor in my pain. Hopefully, I’ll be one of the top entries and my story will be published on their site… Although that would mean I had one of the worst dates ever in the COUNTRY. Is that an honor?
Maybe not, but it’s par for my life. Exhale…
I suck at dating.
I do. I’ve never really been big on trying to sell myself to another person. I guess I’ve always thought, hey I’m pretty cool. If you agree, lets go bowling. That’s a good date in my book. I’m not picky I promise.
I’ve been on some really bad dates… And I’ve been on some decent ones, but overall I think I’m just over it. I’m tired and I don’t really have the energy to sift thru all the men out there to find the right one for me.
When I was in college, there was a local club promoter who used to pay me and a couple of my friends $20 a nite to pass out party flyers to promote his events. We wore matching t-shirts and would stand outside clubs and give out flyers to people that were leaving. We’d hand them out by the doors, put them on car windshields (yeah that was me ;) And for every person who came to his party and showed a pass with my code on it (they were marked) I would get $2. Great incentive for the ladies on the street team. It saved him time and advertising dollars, and even if 20 people showed up with my flyers he was only out like $60 total which was like a gold mine to me at the time.
I’ve been thinking recently that what I need is a street team for my personal life. Just pay a bunch of good-looking guys to do the work for me — wear Erin Jackson t-shirts, pass out flyers and tell other guys what a catch I am. On the front of the flyers there would be a (very flattering) photo of me in a (very) low-cut top, and on the back there would be a list of some of my best qualities, such as:
- makes a mean lasagna and bakes cakes from scratch (this shows I’m domestic)
- owns her own home (this shows I’m responsible)
- drives a beat-up Corolla with only 3 hubcaps (this shows I’m not materialistic)
- loves sports and Jack Daniel’s (this shows I’m cool)
- has a huge music collection and will allow you to download from her iTunes (this shows I’m not selfish)
And I’d tell my boys… You see a nice car? Put a flyer on the windshield. Maybe it’s a man’s car, maybe it’s not. At this point, who can afford to be picky? I’m not sure what the incentive would be for street team members whose flyers return a successful date, but I’d make it worth their while. Maybe I’d go on a date with them. Who knows?
All I know is that I can’t do this alone.
Will you join my street team? I’m having an interest meeting next Friday.