I know that if getting to the racetrack wasn't such a hassle and if I, ah, wasn't lazy, I'd probably be out there every weekend.

It's crazy addictive -- especially if you win on your very first race.

And, okay, so the win wasn't a big win because I did the minimum bet, but when you win, you still think, "Oooh. Free money."

And from that second onwards, as soon as the horse seemed to sprint out of second place and pulled into the lead out of nowhere and I was screaming, "AHHHH! I won!!!", what was essentially a non-date was over.

I say "non-date" because there are certain things that need to happen for something to be considered a date.

I don't even consider group dates to be real dates.

If a guy doesn't have the balls to properly ask you out, then fuck it. That's not a date.

But the point here is that I was more focused on the horses and the racing than I was on getting to know The Dud any better.

Why do I always get introduced to duds? You know...guys who are nice enough, but who you would never ever in a million years want to be with? I mean, as my friend said, "He's nice in that, I-feel-sorry-for-him way."

And that's exactly what it was.