Genetics, apples and trees

For a long time, my genetic background remained a mystery.

I was adopted.

I always felt like my parents were my parents but I never felt like I could claim their background as my own.

My father is Lebanese after all and I am the least middle eastern looking “Lebanese” woman you will ever meet.

My mom is also dark skinned with dark eyes and brown hair.

Then, when I was 22, I met Paul and Sherri, my birth parents.

And the mystery was somewhat solved.

I was Nordic and Scottish with a little Portuguese thrown in.

Mystery solved, right?

Not when you’re a geneticist by training.

I needed to know more.

So I sent my DNA sample (aka spit) to and they came back and told me the same basic information.

Northwestern European, British Isles, and Portuguese.

It seems no one could pin point my genetic makeup past Northwestern Europe – Norway, Sweden, and Finland.

Then lo and behold, a FACEBOOK quiz was created which analyzes your face to tell you where you are from.

Highly scientific, I am sure.

So I run the test (and probably offer over a buttload of personal data as well) and here is my result:

There is a 95% likelihood that I am Swedish.


I had to laugh at that.

Then I had to post it to my Facebook page and tag The Swede.

Just because I know he’d get a kick out of it.

Travels 9,000 miles and meets a Swedish American.

Oh, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree now, does it?

3 Dates in 3 Days

So what’s it like to go on 3 dates in 3 days?

In a word?



The Lebanese was sweet but totally inappropriate for me.  I could just see me steam rolling over him. No sense stringing him along.  I told him the next day, “It was nice meeting you.  I’m not feeling the particular flavor of chemistry I’m searching for.  I hope we’re on the  same page.  Good luck with your search.”  To which he responded, “Got it!  Thanks for your honesty. I appreciate that. I wish you all the best too. BTW, you are very photogenic! You look amazing in your pics.  You could be a model in another life ;-)”  I just wanted to write that down somewhere.  Someone thinks I’m beautiful.


The next date was Jeep.  Jeep was attractive and demonstrative.  He held my hand as we walked all over Los Gatos together.  Sadly he reminded me too much of my ex-husband.  He did kiss very nicely though and I enjoyed myself a little bit, not knowing when I’d get another good kiss.  I sent a virtually identical message to Jeep the next day “not the flavor of chemistry I’m looking for… good luck with your search.” But Jeep wasn’t having any of it (just like my ex) and instead opted to ask for a friendship then criticize me for not being attracted to him.  Oh well, this one is going to be sticky for a while.


And finally there was Jake.  Jake was by far the best (though I suspect he’s a very heavy drinker).  He talked like a pirate to me.  How did he know that I would LOVE TO GET TALKED TO LIKE A PIRATE?

Is this a new fetish of mine?

I swear, if we were in bed I would MAKE him put on his costume, swagger around the room, take a swig of rum, throw me on the bed, and then talk dirty to me in Pirate.

“Argh lassie… lemme feel yur honey pot…”

“Ahoy, I reckon the lass is gonna blow…”

In any case, Jake was the only date I had who DIDN’T KISS ME.  Hopefully that will be remedied in Round 2.

In sum, I had three dates but only one actually seemed to go anywhere and I’m skeptical that it’ll go very far.  Nevertheless, it was great to get out and date again and talk like a pirate, even if it was only for an evening.  My juices are flowing.

So take that as a tip, gentlemen, try talking like a pirate to your lady and see what develops.  Could be she has the same fetish.

Could be I’m just some weirdo.