Paging Dr. McDreamy

We here at WWBD? love Grey's Anatomy. Seriously. I can't speak for Scarlet and Grayer, but I take the show as gospel truth regarding the happenings at all hospitals. Which is why I was seriously disappointed at how my Saturday turned out.

My mom was visiting over the weekend, and unfortunately, our Saturday plans were derailed when I had to take her to the hospital (nothing serious, she's fine). We were a few hours into our 13-hour stay when I said (in only mock frustration) "This is nothing like Seattle Grace! Where are all the cute doctors?" No sooner had the words left my mouth when there was a knock on the door... and in walked a cute doctor. Cute enough for even my mother to notice. "There you go, Vi," she said after he had left. "There's your cute doctor."

So why was I disappointed? Cute as he was, he was no Karev/McDreamy/Sloan clone, and I saw him for a total of 15 minutes, all of which occured before I went home to shower and change, and was therefore wearing my glasses, no mascara, and had greasy bangs. Ugh. On top of that I was bored all day. I didn't see a single doctor or nurse running, no severed limbs, no bombs in bodies (quite grateful for that one, actually) and worst of all, I did not see a single intern getting it on in the on-call room/supply closet/empty patient room. This is no Hicksville General either; it is a major hospital in the middle of a major city. (Actually, I was told had I gone to the one nearby, I could have possibly witnessed a myriad of gun shot wound victims.) Clearly there is something wrong with this hospital, because there is certainly nothing wrong with my Seattle Grace.

Saved by the Bell...

During tonight's episode of Grey's Anatomy, I asked myself this question: Am I the only woman in the world who is cringing at the thought of being proposed to in a roomful of red roses, candles and (gag) a bed of rose petals arranged in a heart shape?

Maybe I'm missing some sort of romance gene, but if you ask me, that doesn't say romance to me, it screams cliche. It's been done over and over and over and over again. How is that romantic?

If I had my pick, I'd go with the guy whose wife ran over him with the car (thanks to her brain aneurysm). He proposed in the supermarket. That is soooo much more romantic. How? you ask. It's spontanious, that's how. He didn't plan it. He didn't rip off an idea from every chick flick he's ever been forced to watch. He was standing in the supermarket and knew that he wanted to marry her, and couldn't even wait until they got to the check out line to let her know it. *Swoon*

Lucky for you, McDreamy, your ex-wife called at what seemed to be the most inopportune time. This gives you second chance. Don't blow it.

Thanks, but no

Most of the time, I'm perfectly fine being single. No one to answer to, free to come and go as I please, yada yada yada.

Unfortunately, this week has not been one of those days.

Maybe it was passing on relationship advice to McNerdy. Or maybe it's the fact that I'm unknowingly attracting men, it's just that they are all so very wrong.

Way back in college, I had a brief stint at the radio station, calling baseball games (and a few ill-advised soccer games, a sport about which I know next to nothing). The head of the sports department was a serious sports radio guy. He knew his sports and he knew his radio. I barely knew him, and for a short time, but I thought he was a little weird. First of all, he was already going bald in college, and second, he talked in a radio announcer voice, even if he wasn't on the radio. It's as if he never signed off.

Last year, through that great social networking site facebook, he found me. He quickly became a devoted writer on my wall, loyal follower of my travel blog and travel photos, and made it entirely necessary for me to permanently disable facebook chat.

Last night, I mentioned via the facebook that I needed help sorting through over 2,000 photos to find the 100 best. He commented on my status 3 times within 15 minutes, and then- to my horror- sent me a list of 60- count 'em, 60- photos from my picture website that he liked the best. Within an hour. By name. The sad part is, I'm not even entirely sure which photos he's talking about and I'm the one that took them.

Question: Is it necessary to unfriend him, or should I just ignore?

The second one isn't creepy so much as cute. He's chubby, red-headed, and freckle-faced. His arm is in a neon green cast. He's also 11-years old, with a sixth-grade crush on his teacher, and I happen to be that teacher. Actually, I'm his tutor. I'm also the tutor to other students, but he's done as much as he can to claim me as his own personal tutor. He follows me everywhere. I mean, literally, if I take a step backward, I will step on him. I'm doing my best to be sure I give my attention to other students. Don't want to lead the little guy on.

Where, oh where is my Jim Halpert? My own personal McDreamy? Or even just a Mr. Right Now until one of them comes along?