Dating: Over 30, 2013

I’ll admit it. I’m not good at the dating thing. I’ve never understood the thing that happens when you meet someone and you dig them and it’s mutual and magic. I hardly ever get that. Or, you know. EVER. Mostly cause I don’t believe in magic. We’re all awkward creatures and frankly it’s miracle we haven’t died out as a species.

It’s usually me chilling with my buds in public, someone hits on me and I don’t notice cause I’m oblivious (not cause I don’t care but because I’m incapable of recognizing the signs), the somebody moves on. I don’t know until a bud asks me about it two weeks later.

OR

I’m in public. I’m a mess. Hair unbrushed, Dirty-sweaty-unbecoming due to work or illness. I’m just trying to get home in one piece and a douchebag starts making clucking-hissing-smooching noises at me. “Hey baby, what’s up?” It’s disgusting. I want none of it. Guys, don’t do that. It won’t make a girl feel better.

OR

I’ve been invited to some soiree (using this term BROADLY) and the weirdest of weird fellows will start stalking me and continuing to do weird shit. Dancing and winking and doing the hand-pistol thing. This actually happened when I first moved to North Texas. I shit you not. I cannot make this up. The best part was he was a zygote. Maybe 20. I wasn’t going to check his ID. And all his dance moves came from Dance Dance Revolution.

I’m going to admit that if a supremely hot man approaches me, one of two things will happen. I will either become mute and all speech becomes a Herculean task. I sputter. I blush. I run away. OR I get mean. I’m talking a bitch with a B. It’s kind of tragic. I can’t stop it. I’m vicious.

I’m not into clubbing. I don’t go places by myself where there are large groups of people. My social anxiety doesn’t allow it. I once had a meltdown because eight people sat at my table in a coffeehouse. I didn’t know them. I didn’t invite them. They surrounded me. They seemed surprised when I got up and left. I hyperventilated in my car for twenty minutes before I could leave. Public isn’t a good place for me without a chaperon.

So, over the years I’ve taken some time out. I avoided dating at all costs cause I had time. Yeah. Now I’m over 30 and my last two relationships were tragic in their own special ways. I can’t even talk about it. It was so bad. One of them I met on a dating website.

I’ve kind of given up on that site. It uses an app that tell other members if someone in their target range is nearby. If you’re into dudes between the ages of 25-35, (insert other criteria here) your phone buzzes and tells you “Hey look! Douche442 is nearby. He wants to meet you!” He may not want to but he got the same message about you. That’s if your settings are played fast and loose. If you’re pretty meticulous, like me. It doesn’t happen often. What does happen is right as I’m about to go out with friends or to a movie solo or am sick as a dog, I get this message “Hey sweetie, what are yo up to? You wanna hook up?” Yeah. Exactly like that. I usually start being really snarky if I have the time.

“Where are you from?”

“Tattooine.”

“Where’s that?”

“Bye”

Then there was this gem.

“Hey, I like your picture.”

“Oh that, it’s pretty old.”

“You look good. You want to meet up?”

“Well, I’m on a mission, just now.”

“Oh yeah? Like a sexy mission?”

“Well, maybe. I’m supposed to find 42 people and let them know that the squirrel is real and he is our Lord and Savior.”

“…”

I know. It’s mean. I could be throwing away perfectly good men. OR I could be weeding out the ones that can’t take a joke or don’t get the type of subcultures I’m into. Really, I’m just doing the testing the website doesn’t quite do.

 

I joined a new site last week because I was bored out of my mind and hey! Can my dating life get worse?

This new site is really easy to join but they don’t tell you that to really participate, you have to pay. I’m unemployed. I can’t throw away money that I need to feed the damn cat.

So, I’ve just ignored the damn thing. I open it up today and there are messages all over and they’re pretty hilarious. Mostly it’s just “Wink, wink.” Yeah, cause that gets my attention. Wink. Wink. Seriously. I have nine entries where men typed the words “wink wink” and that was it. Below are this weeks best entries:

“*douche995***, a t, y a h o o, e m a i l me there, u r hot, love to know u”

“Flowers or chocolate?”

“I’m single and ready to mingle.”

“A great thing that happened to me today: I ran into you here.”

“You are so square. You’ve got all the right angles.”

I cannot make this shit up. It’s horrible. There’s one guy that I think hit on me at the other site. Either he can’t remember it’s me or he’s trying really hard to get my attention.

I know I should get out there and do stuff I like so that I meet people I have things in common with. It’s just hard when the front door is your mortal enemy. The fear of the panic attack that might not happen. It’s completely irrational but it is what it is until it isn’t.

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