Who am I? Does it MATTER?  I am single woman in a big city, and since I work in a cool restaurant, I get hit on… A LOT.  Working behind a bar allows me constant access to speed dating.  However, it doesn’t do much for filtering my suitors.

I’m the epitome of unlucky in love. But I have a choice: be heartbroken and bitter, or develop a freaking sense of humor about the whole thing so we can all laugh about it.  Granted, sometimes my caustic remarks can come across as bitter, but its all in good fun, right?

Oh, and the content? None of it is fiction. I can’t make up shit as funny as what has really happened to me. But i will strive to keep it anonymous.