I love when people try to talk to you about dating and throw all sorts of cliche phrases at you, in hopes that suddenly you’ll either be enlightened or more hopeful or less likely to polish off the almost full gallon of Eddy’s that promises to make you feel better than any boyfriend ever could.*
Some of my fave mantras that get thrown a single’s gals way are: “It’ll just happen when you least expect it.” Well what the hell, if we’re really honest here, we’re kinda always expecting it (preferably in a JLo/McConaughy way), so according to your theory, it’s never going to happen. OR: “You just can’t try. Let it happen.” Yes. Because that’s what online dating is about. Letting shit happen naturally. OR: “It’ll just start all of a sudden. You know, when it rains, it pours.”
Pours what, though, no one really specifies that part of the prophecy. Because there was some pourage this past weekend, but I don’t think it was in the way the hopeless ro’s anticipated.
- Friday: Date #1, 5:30-7:30, Happy Hour Drinks and Appetizer
I should start recording the crestfallen looks on guys’ faces when, at the end of the date, we both stand up together for the first time and he’s looking up at me. Can you imagine the You Tube video montage that would make? Just a bunch of these. Not that I don’t empathize with these guys. I imagine it’d be to similar to standing up and realizing that, even in flats, you’re still taller than your date.
- Saturday: Bar scene, where every couple dreams to start their love story
I hadn’t openly hit on a guy in a long time, but last Saturday I had just enough of Lottie’s champagne** to muster up some courage to ask this homeboy to follow us to our next destination, Cortland’s Garage. He must’ve been drinking the same champagne because he mustered enough courage to come…and then talk to two hot blondes the entire time, while I chatted up his friend. So I played wingman for myself. Just one of those times I wish I wasn’t so damn good at it.
- Sunday: Date #2, 12:00-2:00, Brunch (yes, rolling out of bed and putting on makeup before 2:00 was rough)
Dude was so sweet. So sweet. But, honey, at 34, why do you live with 5 other people you met on Craigslist? I dunno. I get that not everyone is as comfortable becoming besties with credit card debt as I am, but some for things I just encourage the splurge. Like an apartment that’s not reminiscent of the Duggars‘ household. Or Single White Female.
Some people would look at this past weekend as a failure in the Game of Love. But those are probably the people who think this is cute and do not like this. Plus, things are already looking up. Yesterday a 58-year-old suburbanite messaged me with “LOTS” of interest. I mean, when a Baby Boomer puts something in CAPS, how can a girl not be flattered?
*If my Lipsticks are reading this, I’m totally kidding. There is definitely not chocolate chunk cookie dough ice cream in my fridge.
**What can I say? I’m classy like that.