After trying to get women to be interested in me for my whole adult life, apparently I accidentally stumbled upon the formula. Be truly heartbroken, and use the phrase, “I’m not ready to date anyone yet” repeatedly. During the past hundred days, I’ve accumulated an incredibly awkward amount of phone numbers and Snapcodes (that’s a thing now apparently). These are the stories from me attempting to get back into dating—
I don’t drink, I feel like this isn’t news to anyone here, but I also feel like this shouldn’t be a big deal for anyone…except for my date, Meredith apparently. We sat down at the restaurant and the waiter came around to get an order for drinks. She ordered a glass of red wine, I told the waiter I was fine with water. The following exchange happened—
Meredith: Why aren’t you drinking?
Me: I don’t drink.
Meredith: Why not?
Me: I just don’t.
Meredith: Are you an alcoholic?
Me: No, I just don’t drink.
Now, I get the concern, and maybe she just wanted to make sure that if I was an alcoholic she wasn’t trying to tempt me, but this happened 3 more times for a total of 4 times, one for every drink that she ordered. I’m pretty sure in her mind there was no logical explanation for my desire to not imbibe unless I was an alcoholic. Check please.
The Inspector General.
There are normal social boundaries that each person has and I guess depending on upbringing and your social circles those will vary bit by bit. I’m usually pretty tolerant a bit either way of what I think my social norms are because, well, fuck, I range anywhere from a gentleman to an absolute cad on any given day. I invite this girl May up to my apartment for a nightcap. We walk in and I take her coat to hang up, and literally as soon as I do this, May starts to open my closets, look into my drawers, and basically proceeded inspect every single nook and cranny of my apartment. Needless to say, after her drink, I remembered that I had an early morning meeting and finagled a way to say good night early. May got the boot, and for some reason I think she stole some change from my coin tray.
Meet the Parents.
Alexa said that I reminded her of her father on the first date. Already a huge enormous warning sign. After the second date she wanted me to meet her parents. Too fast, way too fast. Ease it on up. I don’t know how Alexa thought I’d go from “I’m not ready to date anyone yet” to “Sure, I’ll meet your parents.”
Turn the Cheek.
I think I co-opted a traditionally female move here. So for our first date, Monica and I went out to the High Line. It was this amazingly beautiful day, coupled with a couple of tomato, mozzarella, and pesto sandwiches, it was an amazing date as well. We ended up walking the entirety of the High Line, and because it was the first nice day since winter, so many little kids were out. While we were sitting down to eat, a toddler walked up to us and for some reason was entranced with my socks. I ended up playing with the kid for a good five minutes and made her smile while her parents took pictures of her smiling for posterity. I’m pretty sure making the little kid laugh was like 85% of the reason why I scored a second date. Date two with Monica was at a little French cafe that’s around the corner from me. Dinner was great, but this was still too soon after Daisy. We went to grab cookies from Insomnia afterwards, and as I was walking to the subway station, I knew this wasn’t the right time and I certainly wasn’t in the right mood. Unfortunately as we were saying good night, she leans in for a kiss. The next second or so plays out in slow motion. I’m just trying to think, what are my options here? I either accept and go in for the kiss, leading her on and making it disingenuous, or I bail out. Of course, I go for the most awkward option and turn my head, with her lips landing smack dab on my cheek. Just then I remembered how getting the cheek felt when you went in for a kiss, and the embarrassment that comes with it. As such, once she disappeared into the subway station, I never heard from her again. Sorry Monica, I really am.
It hasn’t been great. I actually forgot how tough first dates are. I forgot how to become familiar with someone and also, my standards have just changed you know? Once you feel the real thing, you know when it’s forced, when it seems fake, and you know when it’s real. You can probably convince me that it’s a numbers game, and maybe somehow I’ll believe it, but I don’t want to have to go on a hundred first-dates, fifty second-dates, and twenty third-dates to have to narrow down a single person I want to spend time with. There has to be a better way somehow, but hell if I know what it is. Until then, I keep working through a backlog of numbers and possibilities, hoping that the next one can work itself out.
Or as if the past is any indication, at least a funny story. You know, laugh at me funny, not laugh with me funny.