Thursday night, the second date this week, was a horrible date. Not horrible in that he was horrible - it wasn't quite
comparable to this - but...horrible enough.
He was a nice guy. And cute (which was nice, since his pictures were of the crapshoot variety - the kind where you find yourself saying, "I hope you look like THIS!" when you look at some of them and then saying, "Oh god, please don't look like
this!" when you look at others). But then he started talking.
It's the monologue. I've been on three very specific dates now upon which the guy monologues endlessly. Could it be that he's nervous? Could be. Could it be that he's trying to impress me? Could be. But it is just not hot when you're sitting there, trying to figure out who he reminds you of, and you suddenly realize that he reminds you of one of your clients. The kind who has autism, and whose daily conversations go like this:
"You wanna play trains I really like trains one time I went on a train and it was really fun but my brother didn't like it so we had to get off and then my mom told me I could have a candy bar and I really like candy bars except for the ones with nuts in them because I'm allergic and I could die and I really don't want to die because then my mom would be sad and my brother would get all of my toys and I have this one toy that's like a Robocop only it's really a Rescue Hero and when you press a button it lights up and goes "WHOO WHOO" like a police car does have you ever ridden in a police car I really want to ride in one one time because cops are so cool except I don't wanna hafta ride in one because I'm in trouble because my mom would get SO MAD and when she gets really mad her face gets red and my brother starts crying and I can't watch any movies and I really like this one movie Cars have you ever seen that movie?"
Yeah.
That guy.
And here's the thing - like I said, he was a nice guy. And it really wasn't him, per say, that made the date so horrible. It was my possible future, lying barren and bleak before my eyes.
Is this really how it's going to be? I thought to myself, as I took a sip of my Sprite, nodded at something he was saying - I don't know what it is, because I stopped paying attention after he started telling me about how he had watched the reality show "Conveyor Belt of Love", and even though I told him I had watched the whole thing with my friends, he still insisted on taking me though the play-by-play and look at me after each detail to see if I got what he was saying and completely ignore me wh I would nod and tell him, I know, I watched it, I remember that part, yes, I get it, BECAUSE I ALREADY WATCHED THE WHOLE THING AND THEREFORE I ALREADY KNOW EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS - and sighed quietly, but wistfully.
I don't think I want to go on any more dates, I found myself thinking. Sometimes, on dates like these, I've told myself I came out even because I walked away having met someone interesting or, at least, having a story to tell. But I really don't feel that way anymore. Now I'm just walking away with my spirit broken.
And then it hit me. I'm the 30 year old single woman who ends up on horribly bad dates. I'm the funny sidekick in the movie, the one that everyone feels bad for but not too bad because it's mostly mixed in with relief that they're not her. I'm the aunt that people smile sadly and shake their head over as they hang up the phone, wondering aloud if I'm ever going to find someone. I'm the coworker about whom newcomers ask innocently "Is she married?", and when people shake their heads the newbie makes a silent "Oh" with their face and switch the subject. Somehow, somewhere, at some point, I have changed from the swinging single to
that woman.And that's when I basically lost my will to live.
I don't wanna do this anymore. Maybe all those guys had it right all this time, when they told me that they were more into "hanging out" than dating. Maybe I'm just going to "hang out" and "get to know a guy" through beers and darts. Maybe I'm just going to emulate myself after Stevie Knicks, and be married to my art or some shit like that. Maybe I'm just going to take a lover or two and stop caring about having any time of romantic connection or falling in love or getting married or anything like that. Besides, don't they say that falling love is basically a more socially-acceptable form of going crazy? Because it is, isn't it? I mean, I remember one of the first times I knew I was in love with someone was when we caught eyes across
a bowling ally. Did you get that? We were bowling, he went up the counter to get a couple more drinks, I looked back at him, we held eyes for a couple of seconds, and I was like, "I'm totally in love with him."
Who wants that kind of shit to happen to them? Plus, I'm pretty sure that I've lost all capacity to be physically attracted to someone, so maybe this is a good time to just cut my losses and get on with things, like all the awesome projects I've got planned for my file cabinets.
And if I am that chick who is just not destined to find her soul mate (and we all know them. I know some of you are practically jumping in your seats, just waiting to fill up the comment section with "Nooo! It'll happen, trust me!!!" tidings, but sometimes, it just
doesn't happen) then that sucks but whatever. I just kind of want to know. I would like someone to walk up to me on the street, pick up my hand, peer into my palm, and tell me, "You are shit outta luck. Might as well give up now." Because then I could concentrate on leaving my legacy through my talent at crochet, or unsolicited advice directed towards preteens, or amazing and uplifting blog posts such as these. I'd have so much more free time if I wasn't worried about working out or dressing up or showering just so I can attract a mate. In fact, that'd be kind of great. I could do whatever I wanted, organize my life however I wanted, and not have to worry about staying flexible in case someone came into my life. I could be all, "NO, I take up the WHOLE bed when I sleep! GO HOME!" or "I always brush my teeth first, then wash my face, then floss, then moisturize. So I guess you're just going to have to wait your turn
."
When I wrote most of this on Thursday night, I was going to end it with the proclamation that I think I'm done for a while, this shit is bleak, kids, I tried, etc. And I did try, yeah? I've spent pretty much half of this year going on dates.
Lots of dates. And while I do kind of want to give up, I also can't help but think about how the one thing, above all, that I've learned from all of this is that there are actually some men out there who do have the nerve to ask a girl out on a real live date. It is the biggest complaint that I hear from almost all the women that I know - how guys, especially in Minnesota, aren't aggressive or outgoing enough - and it's a complaint that I've made before, as well. So I know that if a man has enough assertiveness to ask a girl out, I want to at least reinforce that by agreeing to go on a date with him. It's for the future of womankind, people. Like I've said before, I'm the training bra of girlfriends. If I leave no other mark on this earth during my lifetime, I will at least leave some lessons and knowledge to a couple of men who can then share those things with some lucky girl (you're welcome).
Also, while driving to Kowalkski's this afternoon, I caught sight of a man who completely fit the vision in my head that comes up when people ask about my "type." I cannot describe him to you, because any description that I try to come up with just sounds totally lame, but let's just say that seeing him this afternoon restored my faith and spirit that there might still be someone out there that I might want to go on a date with. See that? I am optimistic! I am resilient! I am also quite possibly masochistic, but I am okay with that now that I'm back to being in love
with life!
It's definitely generated some decent buzz (it should also be noted that, after I became a "fan" on Facebook, I received about 5 e-mails from complete strangers - males, of course - who wrote, basically, "Adopt a guy? WTF?!"...as if the fact that I would be a fan of something that objectifies men as objects to be sold and bought should come as a surprise). Although the premise can be easily surmised as an online dating service geared specifically towards women, I am hoping that there might be some previously un-thought-of (is that even a word? Should it be hyphened? I'm asking you this to present an appearance of actually caring) twist in there, too. We need something fresh, in the online dating world. Although I would prefer that that "something fresh" be the "man of my dreams so I don't have to do this shit anymore", I'll take some bells and whistles, too. 
