Get THEE to a Nunnery

Back in high school a group of us decided to give ourselves holy names. My good friend Mike became Jesus Christ (aka JC), Dean was God, I was Mary Magdalene. Anyhow, I used to joke with JC that I was going to join a convent. He’d quickly point out I’d have to give a vow of silence…and well, we all know how well that’d turn out.

JC used to say to me on a regular basis, “Get Thee to a nunnery.” We’d be leaving study hall and he’d hug me and say, “Get thee to a nunnery.” We’d be sitting in class and he’d pass me a note after I got an answer wrong that would say, ”Get thee to a nunnery.” We’d be at dinner in the dining hall and he’d yell across the crowed hall, “WRASPIR – GET THEE TO A NUNNERY!” It was very endearing.

Years have passed since I used to hear that on a regular basis. I gave up my plans, albeit joking plans, to join a convent. I knew I couldn’t give the vow of silence, chastity and poverty. Whom am I kidding? And let’s not forget, I’m not Catholic.

There’s a point to that story, I promise.

You all know that I’ve been playing the gambling game on eHarmony. And I’ve not had a good experience yet. In fact, I was getting so few that I thought maybe I should just cancel the subscription - which I planned to do. Then got side tracked and didn’t. ONE day late in cancelling and they charged my credit card and won’t refund me.
I figured, “Fine! I’ll just stick it out for another 3 long months.”
The DAY after I renewed I got 67 matches.

67 matches! Wow. The odds are pretty good that in those 67 I could find a date. You’d think?

So I responded to about half of those 67 matches. Removing anyone who couldn’t be bothered to even write what they were looking for in a relationship or a woman. I mean really, if you’re going to join at least put something in those boxes indicating that you may not know yet, but are thinking about it. Putting, something like, “breathing” isn’t exactly attractive. Amusing, maybe, but not something that makes me want to send a note. Although at this rate, my requirements for a date may just be “breathing”.

So I sent questions to 30+ matches. Not one response.

Let me say that again, “not ONE response.”

None.


Nada.


Nothing.


Zip.

And so discouraged I’ve got the yellow pages open looking up convents. Maybe there’s a convent for Mustang driving nuns? Actually, if – er I mean when – I get my convertible, the habit would keep my hair from getting messy. And I look good in black and white. Slimming color black.