When it comes to how I feel about dating, my nineties television soul mate — Ally McBeal — says it best:
“The truth is, I don’t actually date. Not for the fun of it, anyways. I more like audition potential husbands. And if I don’t see any potential, I don’t waste my time.”
This woman. She gets me.
This is why I’ve had approximately thirty-nine and a half first dates this summer that ultimately went nowhere. Because if we’re on a date and I learn that you are:
- of an unkempt appearance,
- a Jets fan,
- shorter than advertised on OkCupid,
- averse to beer-drinking, or
- incapable of having a conversation about anything other than the gym,
then I will not waste my — or your — time.
I kind of have a non-existent biological clock that requires my husband and I to adopt our first potentially international baby when I’m between the ages of thirty and thirty-five, and I’d like for us to have been happily gay-married for a good five years before that happens. So, according to these calculations, I have a maximum of six years in which to find Mr. Right.
While I realize 2018 isn’t the most immediate deadline, I have no desire to spend the rest of my twenties reliving my slutty college
years months (I was monogamously coupled for ninety-percent of my undergraduate experience).
In short, I hate wasting time.
Unfortunately, because the universe clearly hates me, the majority of this summer’s guys that I did see husband-potential with seem to love wasting time. This is evidenced by the fact that they waited until the second, third, and even fifth dates to tell me that they “aren’t looking for anything too serious,” but “still want to hang out” — and then had the nerve to suggest we still sleep together.
Pardon my naïveté, but it truly blows my mind that men can effectively say, I’m afraid of commitment but I do kind of enjoy your company, so let’s just have no-strings-attached sex, and expect it to be received with a glowing air of understanding acceptance.
I’m sorry, but the whole reason I went on those multiple dates and took the time to get to know you as a person was because I ultimately want those effing strings (maybe not with you, but if things were to work out, then, yeah — strings would be the end goal). And frankly, I’m pretty damn sick of feeling like I’m some kind of crazy person because of it.
Maybe I do need therapy.
But honestly, when did wanting a relationship go from being an obvious implication of participation in the dating scene to being some kind of rare psychological disease that signifies my desperation, neediness, and obesity?
After days of contemplation, I’ve yet to figure that one out.
I have concluded, though, that perhaps the above-mentioned men of my summer aren’t all being honest. Maybe the ones who “don’t want anything serious” are liars who may or may not just think I’m fat. Or maybe they are being truthful. Either way, it doesn’t bode well for my future that I keep meeting men who could be described in either of the following two ways:
- They honestly aren’t looking for relationships, and are therefore douche bags — douche bags who all deserve to be stuck on trains with burrito bowls and no forks — for allowing chemistry to develop between us over the course of several dates, and then telling me that they’re commitment-phobic.
- They’re lying sons o’ bitches. They actually are looking for relationships, and the “don’t want anything serious” line is their seemingly-less-damaging way of telling me that somewhere along the way in our sequence of dates I scared them off by saying that I “truly believe Taylor Swift is the Joni Mitchell of our time… except deeper.”
To the number ones: Grow a pair, and learn to keep it real. And to the number twos:
…Grow a pair, and learn to keep it real.
With this in mind, I’d like to proclaim the following to all potential suitors:
Be aware that I’m looking for something serious. Who the hell knows yet if I’m looking for something serious with you, but if I agree to multiple dates, then it should be interpreted as me acknowledging that I at least see potential with us. If I eventually decide that we may not be a good fit, then I will tell you that — probably by saying that I see us more as friends (who never hang out).
Don’t waste my time; don’t waste your time.