I hate dating.
It’s an inverse Sophie’s Choice really, determining which of the two stages are more painful. There’s the actual dates themselves, volleys of uninteresting small talk queries occasionally pierced by idle observations on the food/beverage or other customers surrounding you. At worst, it’s a couple hours of your life you’ll never get back that serve only to push you further down the foxhole of sweet, sweet permanent solitude; at best, you walk away with a faint optimism about a second date—an optimism that, deep down inside, you know will be crushed in due time by the revelation of their functional alcoholism or Beanie Baby collection.
Continue reading Shit That Needs to Stop : Tinder
Now that we’re all grown-ups, let’s agree that virtually everything people say they’re looking for in a mate is bullshit. Grade AAA, unmitigated, hard-to-keep-a-straight-face bullshit. When asked, both genders will dutifully and predictably rattle off the “proper” laundry list of traits they are seeking in a mate : smart, nice, loving, funny, and loyal.
It’s not that we all don’t want those things – but there’s plenty we do want that we leave off the list when sharing it with others, lest we sound shallow, and the unsaid items may well dwarf the spoken ones in importance when making partner evaluations in our biased heads. Continue reading Find Your Desirability Score!
Below is another excerpt from the forthcoming book, due early next year…
As my mid-thirties approached and I was still unmarried – hell, I hadn’t even strung together more than six months of dating one person in years – I began to feel isolated from the friends I had cherished since our time in college. The friends with kids weren’t going to leave the house when weekend nights came to pass, and the friends married sans kids weren’t very keen on going to the kind of places single people wanted to go – namely, places with lots of other single people. Thus began the cycle of having to make a choice each weekend – you could make solitary attempts at finding love, or spend the time enjoying friends while acknowledging you implicitly signed up for one more week of being alone.
No anecdote better summarized the ridiculous hopelessness of dating than the girl who told me the tale of Remote Guy. It was our second date; the first had gone well enough, and we were exchanging stories of frustration about being thirty-something and single, the well seemingly run dry for the lot of us. She told me of a guy she dated earlier that summer who sat across the table from her in a bar overlooking Woodward Avenue during the Dream Cruise, a Detroit tradition where classic cars cruise the street one weekend each year. Looking over the sea of antique steel and car guys, he asked my date “Hey… do you have DirecTV?”
Continue reading Dick Remote Guy
My animosity towards match.com has been well documented, although I never did delve into the results from my use of the service – mostly because no one gives a shit, it’s depressing, and now moot. To be as succinct as possible and recap almost a decade on and off the dating site, it boiled down to cycle of sending about four dozen emails, getting four responses, going on dates for a few weeks until the very last embers of a romantic flame were extinguished, swearing off the process for a few months, then repeating it in its entirety. This happened like, 27 times total. The actual definition of insanity, essentially.
Continue reading Dating Hell : My Week as a Hot Chick