… escape a bad date:
Stop the guy as you’re walking to a concert together and tell him the following: ‘it’s too hot to continue this date. SO….. I think I’m just going to Uber home.’
Stand and watch him walk away from you until you’re sure he’s not going to look back, and run in the opposite direction (I’m too cheap to actually take that Uber).
Yes, I have my life together!
So I tried to sign up for a ‘new’ dating website (new as in, I haven’t used it in a few years) over the weekend just to mix things up a bit. Almost immediately I was reminded why I hate dating and online dating in particular, when I got a message from naked poetry pie guy. Yup, three years later and he’s still trolling. I just can’t.
That awkward moment when you bump into that guy at the gym who you went on a date with ages ago and who never texted back. Also you see him on the regular at the coffee shop he works at. No eye contact!
Being depressed in the summertime is way worse than being depressed in the winter. You’re expected to be happy and cheerful in the summer. In the winter you can always blame your feelings on the weather, on your cold, on the long dark days… in the summer there are no excuses.
OK. Yes. There is a ton of snow. In fact, it just won’t stop snowing. Shoes? What are those? I only wear boots. I can barely remember a time when I actually left my apartment and went to work on a Monday morning.
But, I kind of like this crazy weather! Why? People actually talk to one another. You’re forced to acknowledge someone who steps aside so you can navigate a tricky section of unplowed sidewalk. Running into someone you barely know outside is suddenly like running into a lifelong friend. Neighbors say hello as you trudge on by. There’s a guy on my street who snow blows his sidewalk and then keeps going past his property line.
Commiseration. Eye contact. Laughing at the ridiculous way you have to hop over waist high drifts. Smiling at strangers. Life is a little bit slower but a little bit friendlier.
OK, I guess this snow isn’t all that bad. But still, please please please stop snowing so we can try digging out for a change!
“Benjamin from the Internet” (his words, not mine) sent me this enticing note. Good bye, singlehood!
Happy Holidays! Once again I’m entering this holiday season trying to ignore all the engagement/pregnancy/puppy/happiness going on around me as best I can. I’ve decided to take a break from my online dating escapades for a while, after a particularly disappointing outcome with the last guy.
Why is dating so complicated? And why is the progression from meeting to dating to feelings so hard? If you don’t eventually want a relationship but you don’t want a casual hookup, then it is IRRESPONSIBLE to portray yourself as emotionally mature and available, and you don’t belong on a dating site.
OK enough about that. Time to finish out the year focusing on myself and what makes me happy. For right now that means catching up with friends, my fake masking tape fireplace, Doctor Who episodes, and getting back to the gym.
The dangers of gchat-ing with someone before actually meeting up is that sometimes a random guy will email you a picture. You’ll be confused because said picture was on his dating website profile, and you’ve already seen it. So he says he’s going to email you another picture, but you suspect it’s going to be a dick pic. You tell him it’s probably a good idea just to delete it. He says he just sent it, but delete it when you get it. You OBVIOUSLY take a look at the pic.
Yup, it’s a dick pic. Well hello there.
He says geez you shoulda just deleted it. You respond with dude, you went to all the trouble of taking the pic and sending it. He tells you that he’s in a ‘strange state of being’ and signs off.
Guys? Can we start with some abs first? At this point I’d even be fine with photos of your car. This is getting old.
The dangers of texting with someone before actually meeting up is that sometimes when you leave your phone on silent overnight, you wake up to not 1, not 2, but 10 text messages– one of which is a picture of a random dude’s junk. Yes. His JUNK.
Well hello there.
How about some abs or a nice shot of your arm muscles (with or without tattoo)? I mean, really? Really? Sigh.