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Bambi grew up with his forest friends helping him through life. Eventually he finds Faline.

I do hope that someday I’ll find a nice fella that isn’t psycho, overly emotional, broke, clingy, needy, bi-sexual, hairy, just out of his only relationship, allergic to air, doesn’t drink, is a vegetarian, has (or wants) a passel of kids and lives at home.

Until then, I am Bambi. Slightly (read: extremely) skiddish, relying on friends for enlightenment and entertainment, and willing to try new adventures (within reason).

One of my adventures is online dating. Seriously a bunch of fucking wack-a-doos out there! I am witty, smart and kinda cute. So why the hell do I have to pimp myself on some website to get a date? I hate the email back and forth thing. Just meet me for coffee or a cocktail and if we click, great let’s do it again sometime. If you turn out to be part of the above list, then I can promptly blow you off and move on and not waste another minute on you.

But until I find the guy who doesn’t drive me completely bonkers (because that’s the real goal, right?) I’m subjected to emails from

An image of Scotty454

Really…

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