Well, it’s Saturday morning and it’s a fiercely sexy morning of… yes, housecleaning.
Then I have to do the requisite girlie-bath thing with a facial and all the fussin’ ‘cos I have me a coffee date this afternoon, and while there’s pretty much no chance of him getting the goods this evening, I still want to feel like I’m ‘all that’.
Dating is not something I’ve enjoyed in the last couple years. I had a great time dating a great mix of men from ’04-06, then committed too early to someone and that went badly in ’06. Late that year, I dated The Worst Date Ever, and, since then, every single man has been a screaming disappointment and I haven’t felt like sharing.
The Worst Date Ever: It’s a Tie!
1. This guy had over-Photoshopped his photo and lied about everything and claimed he was an art photographer. He turned out to be an “date booker” for an “escort service” who was answering “business calls” on our coffee date. I guess Saturday’s a busy night for him. He was totally skirting around his job until I dusted off my fucking journalism creds and pressed him for the truth. Sheepishly he told me of his job and how he was always of “assistance” to the escorts. He was also four inches shorter than he claimed and about 10 years older than he claimed, so. Yes. Shortest date ever on both counts. What, I was gone within 45 minutes, and getting drunk with GayBoy within 90? So, yes, colour me always-skeptical.
Icing on the cake was when I was at work about two months later, working on a documentary about the sex trade, and he was a central storyline, going with the escorts to get their STD tests done, taking photos for their ads, and being their legal problem solver. Yeah. That was a weird day at work. Nice enough guy, but just so wrong for me given his profession and how I’m a little more vanilla than most writers who tackle sex. I spent several hours at work, thinking, “I’m so glad I went home. I’m so glad I went home. Yay! I went home!”
2. The guy who drank five beers in one 90-minute meal. Our first (and only) date, which was over in 90 minutes. “Thanks for dinner.” ‘Nuff said. Don’t do this, guys. Distilleries hold very little sex appeal to us women who can do better. Think about it.
Bad dates are very demoralizing, aren’t they? At some point, you have to wonder how much it reflects on you. ‘Cept I wasn’t wondering because I was plain unhappy with life, and I’m sure it showed.
Life feels like it’s in a bold new place, so maybe this will be a good thing this afternoon. I’m cautiously optimistic, but making myself be prepared for total disappointment. That’s just my recent track-record of men speaking, though.
That was then, and this is now. Rather, five hours from now is the new now, right?
But it’s nice to feel the guarded hope one gets before a date that has a smidge of promise. “Could this be a connection?” has to wander through your mind.
When dating works, it’s that one new thing you can add to your life that makes everything better. It improves meals, days at work, nights in bed, everything. Nothing else you can acquire can have such an all-over impact in improving your life than finding a good connection with someone.
Unfortunately, it’s getting there that’s such a struggle for most of us. Wading through the endless “What was I thinking?” dates and the badly-timed sparks with others when one or both of you isn’t in the place for a relationship. Sigh. It’s such a drag sometimes.
I haven’t dated since the New Year, when I more or less stood someone up for the first time ever. Last second case of the heebie-jeebies and a total questioning of my wisdom caused me to not get on the bus to the date. Yep, I was dressed up and everything. Even shaved my legs. Standing there, at the bus stop, I see the bus pull up. It opens its doors, others start boarding. I just thought, “Mm, no. I don’t think so.”
It happens. It was really informal plans, anyhow, so it wasn’t the worst time to just not go. Though I think I made the right choice, I would handle it differently now, and it’s part of why I’ve totally begged off of men since the new year. It was time to focus on me. Boy, have I ever!
That won’t be happening today. Today I actually want to go. Fine day for a neighbourhood coffee date. Anyhow, I have predate rituals to tackle, muffins to bake, and a nap to take.
Kickin’ Ass & Takin’ Names Update: Slow week for the Steff. I haven’t weighed myself because I’ve behaved badly this week after having one of the most frustrating weeks in months, which drove me into the fluffy folds of baguettes, plus a resurgence of an old hand injury that made writing and cycling nearly impossible for a couple days. NOT cool. Hand’s much better today, ergo my mood is as well. I’ll screw up the courage to weigh myself this week and see what’s what. But I’m still making muffins. :)