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Dating can be hectic, if you're a vampire. Ok, it's not always fun for you mortals either, but at least you don't snack on your date or run out on her because the sun is coming up. I'm looking for that special someone who will share a hundred or more years with me.
I thought I found her, but she wasn't a virgin. I forgot to mention, I will only marry a virgin. It's tradition in my family-- tradition my butt! Finding a virgin in this century is next to impossible.
Once I thought I found her through Lover.Com. Her name was Veronica. She was perfect, with long blond hair down to her waist, a slender white neck, eyes as blue as the ocean. She was perfect until she spoke; her voice was like a foghorn, and when she laughed it sounded like a horse. At least she tasted good. Then there was pretty Charlene; Charlene turned out to be a man!
Eventually, I ran an ad in the newspaper. It read, "Bachelor with his own home in the suburb is looking for that special someone. Must be a virgin." A lovely woman answered it. When she said she had the nine children, I sent her home in my limousine that same night.
I know I can make someone happy, but I do have my standards. Then a young woman knocked on my door and asked if I wrote the ad in the paper. Her breath smelled of garlic. I nearly fainted. I politely told her she had me confused with another David Harper that lived on Sycamore Street. She gave me such a funny look but before she could open her mouth again, I slammed the door in her face.
My neighbor Sam suggested I go to church. "I don't think so," I told him.
I nearly bit him for making the suggestion. Go to church? Me? I took him up on his suggestion to meet his niece. He invited me to dinner. I met her all right-- she weighed at least three hundred pounds. She was more interested in eating than she was in me. My neighbor whispered in my ear that she was a virgin. I believed him. I left in haste.
I had almost given up when there came a knock on my door.
"Do you know Jesus?" the pretty, blond girl on my doorstep asked.
Smiling I took one of her pamphlets and invited her in. We started talking. She told me she was raised a Mormon. Her name was Sally. She didn't know much about men and she usually didn't talk so freely with strangers. Sally smiled shyly at me. Bingo, I thought. I found her at last. Then I read her thoughts; she and another woman robbed people’s home of their valuables. She spent some time in prison on prostitution charges. She convinced her friend that it would be much more lucrative to steal. She thinks I am an easy mark. I think I'll have a snack.
No, it's not easy dating when you're like me. In the meantime, Monica is knocking on my door. I do love appetizers.
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