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FeaturesOctober 2, 1996

Where were all these guys when I was sitting at home eating bon-bons? There have been tons of books and articles written for women about how to meet a successful, eligible man. Just walk through the check-out aisle of any grocery store and get a load of the magazine covers. There are tons of teasers: which will help you meet and marry the perfect man, dress in comfortable knits for fall and lose those last 10 pounds...

Where were all these guys when I was sitting at home eating bon-bons?

There have been tons of books and articles written for women about how to meet a successful, eligible man.

Just walk through the check-out aisle of any grocery store and get a load of the magazine covers. There are tons of teasers: which will help you meet and marry the perfect man, dress in comfortable knits for fall and lose those last 10 pounds.

"How To Meet Mr. Right," they promise. "Looking for a Few Good Men?" they ask. "How To Use Your Car Accident or Other Devastating Injury to Meet a Single Doctor," they tease.

Do these things work? No. Women who are actively looking for a man are doomed to failure. I know this. That desperate, I've-slept-alone-for-the-past-five-years look in our eyes scares off all the good ones. The only men attracted by it are the ones with I-need-a-desperate-girl-to-use-and-toss-aside looks in THEIR eyes.

Which is why it makes me physically ill to hear men crying about how there are no single women in Cape Girardeau or Sikeston or Dexter or wherever else they happen to be living at the moment.

Bullhockey.

I've discovered that, when a woman marries, single men instantly become more friendly. You're safe, you see. There's no risk of you losing all control and hurling yourself at them in a public place, forcing them to fight off you and all the other drooling women.

As a result of my transformation, single men now come to me and ask questions about meeting single women. Where did I meet The Other Half? If he had approached me in the frozen foods aisle, would I have responded? Inquiring minds want to know.

A single, very eligible male friend of mine was talking about this the other night. Apparently, he has stooped to reading "Glamour" at the library to see where it tells the women to go to meet men. THAT'S where he should be, he figures. Smart boy.

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"It says the laundromat, the grocery store or the library," he said. "First, I don't want to date anyone without her own washer and dryer. That means she's as poor as I am.

"Second, what do you say to a woman in the grocery store? `Oh, look! You prefer Prairie Farms cottage cheese? I like Pevely, myself.' Get real.

"And third, you aren't even supposed to be talking in the library, never mind making dates. What if I see a beautiful girl in the self-help aisle? Do I go up anyway and take my chances?"

While my male friend was telling me this, a gorgeous, single girl was sitting at the very same table with us. Here he is, talking about how hard it is to meet women, and he doesn't even see one sitting right in front of him.

Girls, this is what we have to contend with. Where were all these men when I was sitting by myself in a movie? Or picking up frozen pizzas in the small, single-serving package? Or when I sat alone in the laundromat, watching my white and darks mingle in the same dryer?

They couldn't see me. I apparently had on my Single Woman Cloaking Device.

To get married to a decent man, I had to break many people's Cardinal Rule of Dating -- NEVER, EVER DATE SOMEONE AT WORK.

There's a reason somebody made that rule. When things go sour, it's tough to look at someone in the office every day without slapping him full across the face. Fortunately, thanks to arm restraints and heavy sedation, Mr. Half and I have avoided any hand-to-hand combat during our days of working together.

I think there's a solution to this whole meeting-the-opposite-sex problem. My solution is called "Heidi's Dating Game." All single women will be issued distinguishing armbands. If a single man who claims there are "no women around" walks past three of them without asking one out, he is disqualified from competition and isn't allowed to go bar-hopping for a year.

I'll have a sign-up sheet here in the office.

~Heidi Nieland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.

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