I absolutely hate dating. But I do it. Because I’m a single 37-year-old woman who doesn’t want to die alone.
I absolutely hate internet dating. But I do it. Because nothing else has worked so far.
This is why I subscribe to various dating sites. For about a month. And then I unsubscribe a few weeks later. Then after about six months a funny thing happens: I hear of a successful online dating story at about the same time the memory of my last bad date fades. And so I try again.
Oh the stories I have. Some I’ll share with you here. Others I’ve worked too hard to forget to dredge up for a laugh. Some of my favorites from 2012: The guy who insisted he wasn’t too old for me but kept referencing his plans for retirement, the guy who was in love with his best friend (if there was any chance at all he was straight), and the guy who was such a dipstick that I only kept my cool because I was convinced I was on a new iteration of “Candid Camera.” That last one might end up as a post titled, “Top 52 Things Not To Do on a First Date.”
This week wasn’t much better. After a few emails and text messages, this single and employed 40-something boy asked to meet up on a random Wednesday night. I was game. He seemed nice enough, geographically close enough and his messages weren’t begging for a red pencil. Yes, these are my incredibly impossible standards for wearing lipstick.
I spent an hour getting ready and then drove 20 minutes to meet him at a restaurant at 7:00pm, aka the dinner hour. He texted he would be 10 minutes late (Yay! Time for a quick shot to calm my nerves). He showed up 20 minutes late (Boo…I could have had two shots if I had known).
When he arrived he joined me at the bar where I was casually sipping on my glass of water. (Shot? What shot?!?!) He then proceeded to order one pretzel stick w/beer cheese appetizer for us to split. I asked for a few minutes to decide what type of wine I wanted but he went ahead and ordered a glass of wine for himself. [Insert that “he who hesitates” quote here.]
I never got the chance to order that glass. Then, with one pretzel stick left, he asked for the check and suggested we go for a walk. In Northern Indiana. At 8:15pm. In mid-December!!!!! During which I got to listen about his love of techno music. While my stomach grumbled. And my lungs filled with freezing air. Yay.
But, hey, at least he got home safely. According to the text he sent me later that night. ???
I have a rule: If you want to be cheap, then offer to meet me at the coffee shop down the street. If I spend more on gas getting there then you spend on the entire date, you will be exposed in my memoir, “Epic Fail: Adventures in Online Dating.”