Not in the dating arena, rather in the blog reporting arena.

No doubt at some point this blog will cause me to lose dates.  Good.  Dear God I am already wondering why the hell women are more insane than I could have ever imagined.  If this blog prevents me from having to endure time with specific ones, great.

A bit of background, I was born in 1961, do the math.  I have grey hair and a short trimmed grey beard.  My hair is not as thick as it once in the way back and I could stand to loose a few pounds.  I am a father, a gamer, a writer, a fighter, and actor and a geek.  My kids are grown, I love playing board and video games, I write poetry and fiction and  other things, I teach and train in TKD as well as doing SCA heavy fighting, and I act in plays and improv groups and as part of the Street Circus at the PA Ren Faire.  I am active physically and run circles around most men 15 years younger than me.  I am not a horrid looking man, I cook, clean, know how to change a diaper and build a bed from raw timber as well as make it.  I hate yard work but I love a clean kitchen.  I make a great living and have a decent head for money management.

I'm a busy guy with a full life and in August of 2008 my wife of 18 years told me she was not happy.  This was no surprise as she'd been angry at me for the better part of 15 years and refused to tell me why.  My physic skills were no match for her psychotic skills.  So she left and we split legal custody while I remained the custodial parent.  This was my second marriage and, truth be told, I knew it was doomed and would have ended it myself when my youngest, then 16, graduated High School.  My first marriage lasted 4 years and left me the custodial parent of a 10 month old son, he is now 23.

Obviously I suck at picking mates.

So in August of 2008 I decided I needed to take a year off before I thought about dating.  And while the first few months were tough, it was a good decision that gave me perspective and so when I began dating in September of 2009, I did so without any hint of desperation.

What follows is an occasional recount of my experiences.