STRANGER THAN FICTION: IT'S A JUNGLE OUT THERE!

After two years of date-free life and another two of commitment to one person, I've discovered that I'm completely out of touch with the dating world.

I've forgotten how to flirt.

I've forgotten which topics to avoid.

I don't know my sign.

But I managed to have two dates in the last month -- hold your applause -- and lived to tell about it.

Dean, the first one, is one of my Sikeston co-worker's friends. I invited the co-worker up to visit my new place, strongly hinting that, if he brought Dean, there might just be a blind date with big blue eyes and a killer pout in it for him.

Then I had to find the girl.

It all came together at the last minute when I met Lily through mutual ties to Wal-Mart. After a brief conversation, I determined she had blue eyes.

"Listen, I know I just met you, and we don't really know each other, but how would you like to go on a blind date with a friend of mine?" I asked.

Lily -- kind, trusting Lily -- actually said yes. Fate was on my side, and soon Dean would be in my clutches. (Insert maniacal laugh here.)

The four of us got together on a Saturday night and headed out to the local nightclub scene, which was pretty desolate. Where does everyone go up here on Saturdays? But Lily and my friend hit it off immediately, slow dancing and giving me the thumbs-up sign behind each other's backs as they spun around. Sickening.

Meanwhile, Dean was telling me he doesn't kiss on the first date.

Thank goodness he warned me. I'm a wild woman. Really.

Obviously, I had no choice but to consume a few adult beverages and wonder why two people who had known each other for an hour could do the Lambada while I was stuck looking through Karaoke selections.

The next thing I knew, I was singing "9-to-5" by Dolly Parton in a voice so off-key I couldn't recognize it. Dean was pretty supportive when I got off stage, allowing me to hide under our table.

We parted ways with Lily and the former co-worker, agreeing to meet back at my apartment. By the time the happy couple dragged in two hours late, I was wearing pajamas with feet in them and Dean was asleep on the floor.

Funny, but he hasn't called me, and I'm beginning to think he didn't have a good time.

Fortunately, my date with The Current Interest followed a few nights later. We met at a party. I was working on my third serving of bean dip when Mr. Interest walked in with his military haircut, burning cigarette and 5-foot-8 frame.

I don't like crew cuts. I don't smoke. I'm just over 6 feet tall.

But Mr. Interest had a winning personality, so I actually stopped eating long enough to have a conversation with him. It occurred to me later that bean dip isn't really a good date food.

Even so, Mr. Interest called the next day and has every day since. We've talked about not dating other people, or "going steady," a high school-level phrase.

And all I can think about is WHY AM I GETTING INTO THIS AGAIN? It has to be one of two reasons: (A) Ex-Mr. Dreams was so bad that any normal man looks good, or (B) Mr. Interest is really exceptional.

Maybe its a combination of the two. We'll see.

Even though I'm a little committed, however, I'm not blind, and I'd like to take this opportunity to suggest all women mosey down to a certain fitness center and take a gander at its only male aerobics instructor. I took my first Cape Girardeau step aerobic class Tuesday night, and there he was.

Now, I'm not one to run after the unattainable, but I definitely see myself taking more aerobics classes soon, even if I tend to look a little bovine compared to the other girls.

~Heidi Nieland is a member of the Southeast Missourian news staff.