Eau de Desperation

Moving slowly today after Sabre’s awesome get-together for Tetris’ birthday. Also not breathing altogether that well, as I blew through almost an entire pack of Marlboro Ultra Lights in one sitting … after not touching a cigarette for months. Corruptin’ mah morals, I tell ya!

I love summer and having all kinds of social stuff to do, so on a whim, I contacted a dating service so I could love it even more. A “relationship counselor” called me the other day to get more of a feel for what I’m looking for, and I’m sad to say I’m almost willing to pay for this adventure.

The other night at Tiff’s comedy performance, one of the other comedians was joking about these services that guarantee you three dates. Doesn’t mean they guarantee you good ones! And sure enough, these people were selling me on all the marriages and long-term partnerships their magic has spawned, but they sure as hell don’t tell you about all the restraining orders and hours of therapy that this odyssey probably inspired. 😉

They asked me to give them the three words that would describe my match. I said, “Doesn’t. Annoy. Me.”

I don’t think they thought I was funny.

When they asked what age range I was considering, I said, “Somewhere between a quarter-life crisis and a mid-life crisis, thanks.”

At this point, they’re saying, “No wonder you’re calling us!”

I did settle on 34-42, if anyone out there in that demographic is reading and wants to save me from paying for the crazy stories I know this journey is going to yield!

But it’s interesting, really exploring with this “counselor” where it all went wrong and what has been missing that I never really even considered. I mean, when they said to describe an ideal first date, I sort of was at a loss. I’m not lacking in things to do — just someone to do them with. And the same person to do them with — if a girl doesn’t have a few different people to call, she’ll be pretty lonely on those other nights of the week that someone else isn’t available.

And as for my ideal first date? Am I hopeless that dinner and a movie is my utopia? I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever done that with anyone other than friends or friends with that question mark attached because you don’t know where it’s going or if it’s going anywhere different.

In any event, my theory on that “boring” first date is that I want to have just enough conversation to determine a boy’s level of intelligence and emotional maturity, and the movie bit takes the pressure off talking — ’cause you know we’re all stressed out from trying to convey enough of ourselves without revealing ALL of our neuroses in one sitting.

The way I explained it was that I am not going to agree to go sky-diving or bungee-jumping on the first date (or ever, but let’s stick with the analogy here), only to have a real conversation with the boy on the next date because I don’t want to go, “I jumped out of a plane for this moron? Gah!”

So, really, what’s the reason I’m even doing this? And why now? I don’t know. I guess I was inspired by my colleague’s assertion that his son is getting married this summer after signing up for a dating service. But here’s the deal — as soon as he paid an exorbitant amount of money for this service, he met a girl completely of his own accord.

And he even wondered whether he should take advantage of the dating service anyway, because he’d dumped a few grand into it. But the new girl was firm — you get me, or you go get your money’s worth there. And he chose correctly, apparently, since they’re officially starting their “happily ever after” as I type this.

I want THAT kind of a story. I’m tired of telling stories that make people cringe and laugh sympathetically and say, “Poor you!” I don’t want to always be known as the one who’s better off alone than with the clowns I’m always telling them about.

And most of them aren’t clowns — they’re great people whose most memorable moments in my mind are usually unintentionally comedic. 🙂

My mom even told me recently that I can turn down some of these invitations — no law against it, if I’m not thinking it will be worth throwing on a clean pair of scandalous underwear. And I said it’s almost feeling like my duty to go “do some time” so I can have the story to tell that it will inevitably yield.

It gives me blog fodder, if nothing else. Not like I ever really do spell out my exploits in this space, but you know it’ll all come out in a couple of years when I have another situation that’s frustrating me, I can tell the “old” story to give me some perspective on the new.

Or maybe I’ll be the next one that Serendipity smiles upon, and instead of laughing at the things that have happened, I’ll be giggling with someone about the fact that this period of my life is behind me.

In the meantime, though, I plan to enjoy all the yuks that I can possibly squeeze out of this period of my life!

One Lonely Response to Eau de Desperation

  1. Sabre :

    Sweetness, in order for me to corrupt a thing, it’d need to be present 😉

    *mwah!* I’m so glad you came, because otherwise it would not have been nearly as wonderful as it was.

    Viva la squeaktoy!