Day 10, 11, 12, 13 - quintessential chick lit in the flesh

I'm going to maintain my "worst blogger on the internet" status and gloss over days 10, 11, 12 and 13.

Friday i.e. Day 10: Dance Camp and Beavers baseball game outing
My co-workers, who are highly invested in the quest for me finding a boyfriend and in BF Training Wheels, had some suggestions when I told them how unsuccessful I have been at handing out my number to random strangers.  I've got to give credit where credit is due, because my co-workers had some fantastic suggestions.  The first and easiest was to pre-write down my number on a piece of paper and keep them in my pocket, so if the opportunity should present itself, I'll have no excuse to fail.  The second suggestion, which I thought was INGENIOUS, was an update from the old damsel in distress routine.  While waiting in line at the Beavers baseball game, if I should see a handsome stranger but have no way to strike up a conversation, I should order way too much food (for my "friends" of course) and ask him for help in carrying it back.  The third suggestion was great too, but at the moment, I can't remember what it was.

I saw one person about 20 feet away, however, I didn't want to get out of line, because I had been waiting in it for SO long, and I also was unsure if this prospect was of acceptable age.  I have a tendency to "pick em young," so without prior conversation, I didn't think the number dusting routine was going to be the best option. That was the extent of luck for Friday.
Unsuccessful = 10, successful = 0

Day 11 - Saturday -
Dance Camp. 20 girls, 0 boys.
nuff said

Day 12, Sunday -
Busy day today, and while I had no opportunities to number dust anybody, my friend Steven gave me a small escape from "single world" by being a great sport and attending happy hour and a dance concert with me, my friend Jill and her BF Casey.  Thanks Steven, it was nice to not be the third wheel for once.

Day 13 - Monday,

Work in the basement, lunch at Aztek Wiley's (sp?) and home.  I'm exhausted and haven't gone anywhere since I got home.  I realized I've turned into the quentssential chick lit character.  I'm sitting on my sofa, with a glass of red wine watching How Do I Look, a touching make-over story.  The worst part? I'm tearing up.  Don't worry, I held them in, but seriously, just call me Bridget Jones right now.

Please excuse the horrible writing....I'm too lazy to edit today.