Dating is the weirdest.
It’s like fucking Russian roulette and the idiots are bullets and you never know when one is going to come flying at you and hit you in your perfectly made up face.
It’s like being chronically unemployed and going on interviews forever and ever into eternity. Some people are good at interviews, but most people aren’t. Most people have just googled a bunch of shit that you should and should not say in an interview and are play acting their way through 45 minutes of stilted conversation hoping to hire or be hired. And then you leave and go home and sit on the couch with no pants on and you’re STILL not getting a damn paycheck.
I am so over dating. And I feel a little silly saying that because I know I’ve only been single for like a second (or a year and a half-ish, but that’s probably the same thing). But seriously, I feel like maybe I was delusional or something but I definitely thought I would be like FIGHTING OFF amazing men. I thought (and still do) that I am a bomb ass partner and I would find an awesome dude to chill with the second I decided I was ready. I’m not kidding, when I went on my first date after breaking up with my ex, I was genuinely concerned that I would want to date him, because I felt like it would be too soon and I should be single for a sec and I would have to be like, “Okay, I know you’re falling for me and I’m sorry about that! I am! But I just need to do me for a while, you know? Best of luck to you. You’re so special.”
Now I’m drinking alone at a bar after my 837th shit date and I’m like okaaayyyyy??? I’m ready now, I think! Hello?!?!
Oh and I’ve totally googled NY sperm banks and artificial insemination and let me tell you something! That shit is not cheap! It’s almost like they don’t want poor women procreating on their own. EXCEPT, of course, if that poor person gets pregnant accidentally and tries to get an abortion. Then They (capital T now) are all like, “That is the miracle of life! You are #blessed. You will find a way. Just not with welfare because you don’t deserve a handout and you should have used protection or abstained from doing the dirty.”
I’m just trying to manage my expectations for all outcomes. Like, okay, yes, I’ll probably stumble upon someone who can tolerate me and wants to make fat babies with me, but I also might not and I need to know what my options are! I’m also hyper aware that the second I put a turkey baster of sperm inside me, I’ll meet the love of my life, just like in that J.Lo movie that I would like to pretend to have not seen but have obviously seen.
However it happens, though, I should definitely have a kid at some point. I know this because I’m really good at putting babies to sleep (I think maybe it’s my boobs) and they also are the only creatures on the planet who enjoy it when I sing and that makes me feel good about myself. Oh, and also because I really love children’s books and it would be less weird to have a lot of them if I had an actual child.
Anyway, I think I’m probably just a late bloomer again. Can you do that twice? I didn’t date at all until my ex, except for one very brief thing with a guy right before I moved to New York. It was all one night stands and unrequited crushes until I tricked this tall Latin man into being with me despite the number of times he warned me he didn’t think marriage or anything long-term was really in the cards for him. I should have listened but he was so attractive and that shit is like a drug or at least like these margaritas I’m drinking.
I don’t think that I’ve told you yet that I’m a little tipsy. I am. I hope I don’t have too many typos because that would bring me great shame. I’ve been thinking about writing a drunk post ever since the first time I laughed until I peed a little at that Buzzfeed guy named Matt who gets paid to drink a bottle of wine and rant about shit. That is the fucking greatest job I could think of. That or rolling around with puppies. Or happy babies. Or eating donuts. Or testing out vacation spots. Or vibrators!!! Do people get paid to test vibrators?! That sounds fun.
But back to dudes. What if I’ve swiped through all the decent people on all the apps already? I keep thinking about all the guys I swiped through when I first downloaded everything post-breakup but before I was ready to actually meet anyone. Sometimes I feel certain I swiped left on the love of my life and now the only guys that remain are the type who can think of nothing else to say to me but “hey whats up ur sexy.”
I don’t meet guys in real life and I swear to god you can all tell me I’m stupid but I swear it’s because I’m too tall. And maybe because I’m thicka than a snicka which is a saying I saw on a shirt today. I found that saying mildly repulsive but here it is, super relevant and in my brain right now. When I was younger, people would tell me boys didn’t always like me because I was “intimidating” and I know now that means it looked like I could beat them up, but I swear I couldn’t then and I couldn’t now because I’m a pacifist and I shy away from all conflict unless you hurt my baby sister and then I’ll run you over three times with someone else’s car.
I should wrap this up soon but I’m having a lot of fun. I feel like you’re all here and I’m just talking and being all open and drunk and vulnerable and you guys are looking at me with kind eyes and reassuring me and laughing at all the right places. I know that I’m a little crazy because I’m getting misty eyed looking at my phone right now thinking about you guys and, again, I’m super alone drinking at a bar, but I know you’ll all understand.
I also hope you can hear me saying this out loud to you and it’s just like fun tipsy me and it doesn’t sound sad or like desperately fishing for compliments because that’s definitely not what I’m going for here. I’m pretty good. I’ve got a good thing going. I live in a cool place and I actually like my family and I have an embarrassing amount of awesome friends.
I just really really really needed to tell you that dating is the worst. But margaritas are not.
She Always Has Shit to Say 