I hate dating.
The pretentious bullshit. The drama.
I don’t want to get dressed up and go to the bars just to have mindless conversations week after week. Sometimes I find myself zoning out and forgetting what we were talking about. I even dodge phone calls like the plague. A friend of mine insisted I put my profile on an online dating site. So, I caved. At first there were no matches… three days later, there were 53 profiles. I printed some and as a joke one Friday night, we sat around reading them, drinking wine. We had a “keepers” pile and a “he wishes” pile. She had to approve the discards because I found myself disqualifying men based on superficialities such as names, astrological signs and height before even reading the contents of their profile. I’m so over this.
I want the Saturday morning breakfasts at dingy diners, browsing grocery specials in the local newspaper; running errands until noon; browsing bookstores; curling up on the couch reading while he browses “man-shit” on the computer; playing video games until dawn. There were a few times I would venture over to the Candy Man’s house and sit in his hallway; feet propped on the wall, watching him do paperwork. I was happy there. Bring on the monotony.
Am I doing something wrong? Does this get better? Because I have to tell you…this process has become incredibly boring. Dating sucks. Last summer I went out and met people. I date stacked like you wouldn’t believe, which I don’t have the energy for anymore. The Boy and I were talking about this and he had a perfect analogy for why he never stacks. “Its like playing two games at once. Half the time you’re playing Monopoly the other half you’re playing Scrabble. Sure you may get an ok score out of both, but what if you could have gotten a triple word score and you missed it because you were too preoccupied paying rent on someone else’s space? “That makes me laugh.
My married girl friends make comments about being jealous of my singleness and freedom to date. I make funny faces and always want to ask why. It’s not all that fun.
I’ll gladly trade my Friday nights at the bar for your Sunday’s at Home Depot.