Dating is awful.
Dating is awful. Like legit the fucking worst and dating after divorce is, even more, worse than that. Seriously. Dating. Wtf? Am I right ladies? All I get are dick pics, creepers, and stage 5 clingers. It’s offensive.
I am trying though. Sometimes I’m ready to date. I have fun and am excited at the possibility of meeting someone new. Then, I go on a few bad dates and I want to hibernate indefinitely. So I backslide to exes. Oops!
In light of this realization, I decided to try a new tactic and technique that I like to call, “speed dating,” where I schedule back to back dates within a few hours of each other. That gives the guys maybe an hour. Then, I have to go. A friend asked me what would happen if I wanted to “extend the date?”
“Bitch, please. I don’t do that.”
Newly Single Life.
In general, I just hate single life. It’s hard going back on the dating market after being in a long-term relationship. You get used to living with someone, settle into a routine with them. You learn all their quirks, what they like for dinner, their favorite pastimes. When a relationship ends you lose your best friend. Then suddenly you are tossed into single life again, trying to start over with someone new. Dating is exciting and terrifying at the same time.
I’m doing the best I can to get back out there but most days that is just barely surviving. I’m scared and sad. Dating again feels to me a lot like betrayal. I just wanted to work it out with my husband. Instead, I’m back on the dating scene trying to find someone new. I have an idea of what I want, who I want. But in my mind, that vision is still The X. We shared a wonderful life.
But I need to remember that that vision is idealized more to what I wanted him to be, not so much who he was or what our relationship actually was. Regardless, I still find myself comparing prospects to him and to our life, whether that life was real or imagined.
But I have to get back out there. We are divorced and it’s time to move on. My therapist says, there are a lot of people out there, and very few are a match. Apparently, I gotta kiss a lot of frogs to find a prince and this princess’s time is running the fuck out.
Don’t waste my time.
I have limited time to spend on dating. I’m incredibly busy with my awesome life. So you see, I have zero qualms about leaving one man and moving on to the next. Like you have about 30 minutes to peak my interest or I’m leaving for the bathroom and never coming back. (P.S. I have actually done that.)
I don’t care anymore. Plus, I’m a crazy bitch. So, if you bore me or make me uncomfortable in 30 minutes or less, I’m dipping out to feed the dog, wash my hair, or use the restroom, and I will never come back. Thanks for the drink, see you never.
My Most Recent Attempt.
I lined the dates up for a Friday night.
I met the first one, it was fine. We drank some beers. He was a bit nerdy but in a sweet way. He was basic, not drop dead gorgeous, but cute. Dressed average, a little shorter than me in my heels. Worked as a recruiter while building a marijuana grow with a friend. He talked a lot and made it easy to engage in conversation. He walked me to my car. I kissed him good night. I liked him, then never heard from him again.
I had another date lined up. So, I jumped in the car, grabbed some Taco Bell, and fixed my makeup before the second and final date of the evening. I got there before my date. I waited at the bar. It was 8:47 pm. He was 3 minutes late. I told my friends I was being stood up. They told me to stick it out, 3 minutes didn’t mean stood up. He walked in shortly after.
This one I was nervous to meet. He was sexy, super buff, a gym rat, looked a lot like I imagine a Greek God would. I wasn’t sure why he would be interested in me. You are more likely to find this bitch with a bottle of whiskey and a gallon of ice cream then you are to see me at the gym.
It seems like every guy I see online is super into working out, hiking, being adventurous. I’d prefer to meet a guy who likes to binge watch Netflix and lay on the couch. One of my girlfriends said, ugh gym selfie, are you really going to meet him. I decided I would because he was gorgeous. He strode in and slide next to me at the bar.
By the way, this was also a bar The X’s dad frequents so I was seriously hoping I would not run into him, or that I would, and he would see me with this smoking hot guy.
Somebody get this girl an atlas.
My date seemed awkward and quiet. I had a hard time carrying on a conversation. I thought maybe he just wasn’t that into me. He wasn’t asking me questions or trying to engage me in conversation. If I asked him something he answered with one or two words and didn’t elaborate further. The bar was really loud and when he asked if I wanted to go somewhere else, I suggested a nearby location and we left.
At the next bar, things started to look up for me. He became more engaging, talkative, sexy and we started to have fun. We had one drink, then another. I’m unsure how many that was for me at that point, but I was definitely drunk.
He told me he was Romanian. I looked at him like the dumb, drunk blonde I am and said, “I don’t even know what that means.” He said, “Like from Romania.” I still didn’t really know what that meant or where that is located. I’m bad at geography. I wasn’t sure why he would ever be into me. We didn’t have much in common. I’m non-gym going, curvy, blonde bimbo who has no idea what Romania is. He is world traveled and works out every day.
He asked me to play pool. I hate pool but I was enjoying our time together so figured I would try. We played pool, then started kissing. Not something I usually do on a first date. Yes, I was that drunk girl making out with a guy in a bar in front of people. He kept trying to get me to go home with him and I kept telling him that I didn’t do that. I’m not a girl who has one-night stands.
After a few more drinks, I decided who gives a fuck? I figured he was just looking for sex so I’d probably never see him again. Plus, he was sexy, he turned me on, and a girl’s got needs…
I told him, yeah let’s go to your house. So we did. And we did. Then, I snuck out in the middle of the night, grabbed an Uber, and disappeared because I had sobered up and was horrified at my behavior. I didn’t call him again or follow up. I assumed he got what he wanted and I wouldn’t hear from him again. But the story doesn’t end here. I did hear from him again and it went from bad to worse.