I have previously mentioned I am terrible at dating. There is nothing worse than having an awesome four-and-a-half hour first date, only to be no closer to a second date four weeks later. (It’s not you! It’s me! It’s too cold! I’m too tired!)
Oh, but how the times have changed. Even five years ago I would have moaned and obsessed and wondered. Now I’m sort of like, “if you don’t want to go out with me again, then stop being up my ass on Facebook. K thx bye.”
It’s very easy to hate things you are bad at, or be bad at the things you hate.
I genuinely HATE dating. When you meet someone online, the first date is usually your first time meeting them in person. If it’s someone you met drunk at a bar/party/on the street (if you’ve seen Clark St. during Cubs season you know what I am talking about), you go into the date wondering if you’ll like each other sober. There’s so much pressure. No one ever has the same end-result in mind. WE MAKE THINGS TOO FUCKING COMPLICATED. It’s not enough to like someone anymore. Now you need to have a fucking bachelor’s degree in texting, masters in body language and a Ph. fucking D in properly playing the game so you can come off as interested yet not crazy yet not TOO interested because that’s a turn-off, yet if you’re too aloof and they stop texting you back you’re all, hey WAIT a minute, I was playing it cool and now you’re fucking some random skank who was willing to put out while I wanted to build something meaningful so I lose either way and if this is what dating is like I’d just rather not – thank you VERY much.
Over the weekend I hit my limit with Mr. No 2nd Date and literally told him to have a nice life because I wasn’t an idiot and I can tell when someone is not interested. This was after the “too tired” excuse. Then of course the next day, he is whining on Facebook that he did nothing but sit on his couch on Saturday night.
Let me pull out my instructional manual and/or doctoral dissertation to decipher that passive-aggressive attempt at sympathy.
Was this lame status update
A) a non-apology apology?
B) fucking stupid
C) I told you that we have to have a Ph. D in this shit.
D) I could NOT care less what the meaning of that status was. I know five years ago it would have led to a two-hour phone call with my best friend trying to figure out the meaning behind it. Now I’m all, “you have no one to blame but yourself, dickwad.”
At least even the best daters sometimes still had problems: