Keeping Up Appearances

For the last three years, this Tennessee girl has been looking for love in Oregon.  I've had a few heartaches and dodged a few bullets since then, but I am moreover compelled to share the comical aspects of dating in Portland.  Don't get me wrong, I have had more than enough laughable dates during my time in the South.  However, a mullet-donning redneck is a known quantity for me, easily identifiable (and thankfully avoidable) from quite some distance.  An ever genteel Big Johnson T-Shirt, a conspicuously juicy wad of Copenhagen, or a Confederate flag window tint are like flashing neon signs describing the man behind them.  In my mind, they are manna from heaven, kind of like my GPS yelling at me to make an immediate u-turn, he's not my kinda party.  There is the safe coziness in this, a social Snuggie of sorts.  

In Portland, on the other hand, hipsters mingle among the status quo (or maybe they are the status quo), and every measure of oddity or wonder can be lurking behind a burly beard or a pair of skinny jeans or a vintage tweed jacket.  It's beyond challenging for this Southern girl to discern the successful metrosexual professional from the unemployed (or unemployable) candle-making chucklehead.  I have to weed through the facial hair, the birth control eyeglasses, and the tattoo jungle to see what lies beneath, and even then it's a mixed bag. If a man invites to me to the farmer's market for a date, it could be because he wants to buy some organic fennel for an amazing dinner that he will cook for me later, or it could be because he plays the didgeridoo there so that he can make rent for the week.  I don't yet know when the GPS of Love is telling me to make that u-turn with enough advance warning to avoid calamity or comedy.  And until I can figure out how to update those maps, I'm just going to blog about they hilarity that OK Stupid! and eDiscord bring my way.  

Oh, and I promise, there's plenty to come about the average looking dudes who brush their hair and wear clothing that is not certified pre-owned.  I've dated those too, and they too can bring their unique blend of delightful disappointment to bear.  

Disclaimer: I understand that as a good and kind person, I'm not to judge a book by it's cover, and its what's on the inside that counts, and it takes all kinds to make the world go round, and every other inspirational cliche, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.  Like the Psychic Friends Network, this is meant for entertainment purposes only.  I love Portland and its people, I just don't want to get close enough to kiss them all.