I’m over this whole dating thing. I gave it a shot. It was kind of fun. Kind of. By “kind of” I mean people paid for my food. And drinks. And I like free things.
But it’s just so inconsistent! Like, you meet someone, you hit it off, and you decide to arrange a meeting in a slightly romantic setting to see if the two of you share some romantic element or something. And you’re sitting there wondering if this is just the first of many first dates or if this will actually turn into something. Or maybe there will be a few more dates before it turns into nothing. And you wonder how many times you’ll have to go through this weirdness before you find someone who you actually like enough to love. But the problem is that they have to be on the same level of liking, which is not as easy as it sounds.
Then the guy who has caused you to wonder all of these things is short, and not like kind of short. Like my height short. But you reason that you can work with that, because you’re trying not to be such a shallow asshole with unreasonably high standards. And you get along with this guy pretty well, all things considered. Well enough that you wonder if there will be a second date, but not well enough for you to really want a second date.
Then he’s walking you back to your car because the date went well enough that you want to spend a little extra time together but didn’t actually plan anything to do and you’re not in an area that you really want to spend time walking around and the whole time you’re wondering what’s going to happen with that end of the date kiss because it went well but not really THAT well.
And then he kisses you AND IT’S HORRIBLE.
I don’t understand how a person can be 26 and still bad at kissing. I just don’t.
NOT TO MENTION the guy who dumped me just a week ago decided to TEXT ME last night before this date.
How do they always know? THEY ALWAYS KNOW. You start moving on and their Spidey sense starts tingling and they think “hey, Zoe has a date tonight. I should probably text her before it. That’ll really fuck with her.”
There must be an app for that, one that only guys know about. The government is probably involved.
He asked about my Halloween costume. I mean it wasn’t a totally stupid question; he was genuinely curious. But he didn’t have to ask. His life would not be lacking had he not. But he did. Being the really nice person that I am, I told him and, being confused about what the fuck was going on, asked about his.
Then he wanted to know what I’ve been up to. As if my life is so exciting that I would have breaking news in the week since we last talked. I considered sending something like “well, I haven’t slit my wrists since you dumped me, in case you were worried about that,” but I felt that may be a bit too sarcastic for the situation at hand, the situation being he wants to be friends.
I mean that’s what I assume anyway. I, however, am not so sure I want to be part of a Kumbaya singalong session with him just yet.
Sure, I dated him for a reason, and logically that means we would make good friends as well. I wouldn’t date someone that I couldn’t also be friends with. That doesn’t seem very sensible. But that doesn’t mean I want to be friends with him now that the whole romance part didn’t work out. I already have friends. I’m not so sure his friendship would provide me with anything I don’t already have.
Then again, maybe he doesn’t want to be friends. Maybe he’s realized that he made a huge mistake and wants me back. Let’s be real, THAT’S what I really want to hear. Not because I want him back, but because of course he made a mistake and of course he wants me back. Because I’m great.
Yeah, that’s not the reason. I decided to continue being nice and pursue the conversation. He just curious about what I’ve been up to. I was so tempted to be all bitchy and snarky and tell him GUESS WHAT, when you decide to end things with another person that means you don’t get to know what’s going on in their life! So next time curiosity takes hold, get a good death grip around its neck and choke it back. Kill it with fire if you must.
Just leave me alone.
But I didn’t. Because I’m not really bitter. He was being nice and I wanted to be nice back. See, I’m capable of not being a total rage monster when a break up occurs. You have to be quite the special piece of shit to induce that sort of passion. For once, all parties involved were decent human beings. And not gonna lie, even though there wasn’t this huge “I want you back” reveal, he was curious about my life. And that’s some sort of satisfaction. I may not be dateable, but I’m still awesome. He was pretty okay, too. I think it’s worth at least attempting to be friends.
Plus he has a really cute roommate who is totally my type.
Not that it matters, because I’m never dating again.