"I guess I'm calling to break up with you."

Well, I have been so busy NOT dating lately that I haven't even had time to post an update. Between date night with Blondie McSmartyPants, a ridiculously busy social life and Super Bowl Sunday, my life has been INsane! Not insane enough for me to forget about match.com, though. Don't you worry about that. I am still an active little dating bee.

But, I know you're all dying to know what is up with VBall McBulgarian, so here's an update. The last time I saw him was Wednesday night last week. It was our third date. He came over for a homecooked meal (mama always told me that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Actually, mama never told me that, but I imagine that is something a mama might say) and for a game of scrabble. I am embarassed to report that he beat me at Scrabble. Yes, he is an English language learner (moved to the US in 1993) and he beat me, an English language learner teacher at Scrabble. It was terribly sad and embarassing, but it was completely not my fault! I swear to you, I picked the worst letters (all vowels) to have ever been picked in a Scrabble game. AND, despite the fact that he had all the high-scoring letters - Z, X, J, V, K - he still only beat me by 10 points, so I like to think that I redeemed myself.

But that is beside the point. At some point during the date, he breezily mentioned that he was interviewing for a new job... in Baltimore. "WHAT!?" I believe I did actually shout it just like that with both an exclamation point and a question mark. I thought it was odd that he would bring this up on our third date and then try to nonchalantly pass it off as something that "probably won't happen, but..." Ummm ok, buddy. Just cut to the chase. But still things continued on as normal. He asked when he would see me again, we snuggled on the couch and watched TV, he kissed me good night. All seemed great.

But then, on the day of our next scheduled date (two days later, AKA last Friday night), he texted me to cancel, claiming he would call me the next day (yeah, right). Bummer. Big time. I was really, really, really, really starting to like this guy. SO, of course, I immediately tell Blondie about my devastating news and she decides that the only way to make things better is to go out and get drunk. I agreed.

We went to our favorite neighborhood bar, Blue Max, in Sunnyvale. Doesn't the name just sound fun and intriguing? It is... If you like old people who are REALLY into karaoke. I was feeling so pumped about karaoking and boozing it up that I must have been oozing positive energy as I got two calls three minutes apart from two new match.com boyfriends. (And, as it turns out, I wasn't really that sad about McBulgarian because I tried to cry about it on my way home from work that afternoon, but only managed to squeeze out about three tears!) It is true, ladies, life does go on.

Meanwhile, at the Blue Max, Blondie and I enjoyed a plethora of Miller Lights (at $3 a pop) and I indulged in singing an exorbitant amount of karaoke songs (some good - a "Need You Now" duet with my good friend, Texy McAmericanIdol; some OK - my go-to crowd pleaser "Take it on the Run" by REO Speedwagon; and some bad - Blondie and I attempting to belt out Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again" as a symbolic gesture of our singledom). That, combined with a heavenly French dip sandwich from Adamson's made it a truly excellent night.

Next afternoon, I get a phone call from McBulgarian. Believe it or not, he is in that rare class of dudes who actually calls when he says he will. WOW! After a minute or two of "catching up," he breaks the news: "Looks like I'm moving to Baltimore." "WHAT!?" Only this time I don't shout that out. I am the breezy one now. "Oh wow, you got the job?" I am so breezy, it gives him chills. And the best part? He then says, "So I guess I'm calling to break up with you." HA! "You can't break up with me," I say. "We're not even boyfriend and girlfriend." He chuckles. We talk a little bit about how much it is going to suck to move from California to Baltimore (isn't that place the armpit of the U.S.?) and then we say our final goodbyes. It was sad. I hung up the phone and shed one final tear. Then, I went into my itunes, found my WhiteSnake album and pressed play. Story of my freaking' life.

Sing along, everybody: "Here I go again on my own. Going down the only road I've ever known. Like a drifter I was born to walk alone. But I've made up my mind. I ain't wasting no more time. Here I go again..."

Final vote: bud.