And then I hit reality.
The truth of it all, is that my dating life isn’t really that horrid. In fact, just last week I experienced a pleasant date full of good conversation and coffee – the "double-C" combo that makes my heart continue to swoon and makes my dating life worth living. But alas, that third "C" – “chemistry” – was distinctly lacking from the event, landing me back to square-one as if I’d just stepped onto the “pass go” space on Monopoly.
And so the dating ferris wheel spins ‘round and ‘round.
I don’t actually have many friends or family members who served in the military, so my logical conclusion for honoring the battle-weary men and women of the world on Memorial Day is to reflect on the worn but honorable men and women who really deal with the biggest bombs and stabs to the chest in life: Philadelphia singles.
Strolling down the rugged terrain of my own dating memory lane, I’m confronted with visions of the guy who had the nerve to refer to Carrie Bradshaw only as a “horse” on our first date (poor thing clearly hadn’t read my blog to know that was a taboo move), the young man from out of town who looked around his uncharted Philadelphian surroundings and said with disdain, “They call this a city?” and, most depressingly, the dandruff-laden fellow who chain-smoked five cigarettes on a park bench during our first date and proceeded to gleefully tell the tale of when he shouted “cunt” at his Swedish university’s dean of students and, oh-so-shockingly, got expelled for it. Charming, truly.
But the date that takes the wedding cake, and continues to deepen my cynical wounds, happened just last week when I did something so unthinkable, so naïve, that even I had to sit back and smoke a cigarette afterward to take it all in.
I let someone sleep over on the first date.
Sometimes, when I feel really pessimistic about dating, I decide to break my own rules. Occasionally that means meeting someone somewhere other than a coffee shop or a park, or opening the ex-file prematurely for the sake of “transparency.” But this particular rule I had yet to break, and now know will never be broken again.
It's like buying a mystery bag of goods on the Internet and hoping it will arrive with a million dollars inside. Nice in theory, but disastrous when the bag comes and all you have is a box of Goobers and a shoddy pair of faded jeans to show for it.
For starters, this man thought 777 was the ideal place to live. I apologize in advance for the off-topic rant, but my idea of a luxury condominium does not involve overpriced, smoke-free apartments across from a McDonald’s and a Popeye’s in the middle of Philthadelphia. It’s Boca Raton or nothing at all for me, folks. And when I offered my opinion, I got a smile and a nod in return.
But that leads into the primary problem I had with this person and most dates in general: What in the hell is wrong with dates who are capable of nothing more than nodding their head in agreement and phony-laughing at every bad joke I make? Perhaps it’s a matter of taste, but I don’t want to date someone who wants to appease and agree with everything that comes out of my mouth – if I wanted that, I’d date a Furby.
Allow me to be perfectly clear and succinct about this particular ghost of dating past, and all of those like him who I'm sure you all have encountered at one point or another:
1. If you ask someone on a date, expect to pay for them. Male, female, trans, alien from Mars in stilettos – I don’t care what or who you are, come prepared with cold-hard cash when you ask someone on a date, specifically when you ask them to dinner. I don’t care that your roommate didn’t give you his half of the rent today like you’d expected, or that you had a slow week at work; credit cards exist for a reason. At least plan to pay your own way, even if it means going all Tony Soprano on someone to make that happen.
2. “Oh, I’ll cover it next time.” Jumping off of the preceding point, don’t be so presumptuous as to safely assume there will be a “next time.” I’m sad to say that, as much as it pains my wallet to pay for a pizza, it’s not worth it to go on another date for the sake of making up the difference. I’ll take my pizza and go, thanks.
3. Make a f**king decision. I like that someone wants to give me the freedom to choose something, but not all of the time. I spent way too much time trying to decide on a pizza place for the two of us, and by the time we’d decided to just settle for Domino’s take-out, he pulled the, “Oh, I’ll eat anything – get whatever you want!” card when asked what pizza he wanted. That’s not an answer, that’s a cop-out.
4. Don’t be surprised when you get sent to the futon to sleep. Cuddling is not a consolation prize for a bad date– if I don’t like you, you’re getting sent to the futon. It’s as plain and simple as the pizza we chose. Cuddling is great when you’re with someone you actually like, but otherwise it’s like snuggling with a Tickle-Me-Elmo that won’t shut up when you’re really craving your soft, quiet and gentle teddy bear. To quote Kelly Clarkson, “You know the bed feels warmer sleeping here alone.”
5. Talking about your ex implies there’s something wrong with you. I don’t care how nicely you say the relationship ended, the fact that you’re talking about it at all sends a pretty strong message on a first date. What’s worse? This bloke still lives with his ex. No wonder he didn’t pay the rent.
They say the best way to get rid of a ghost is to release it. I say the best way to get rid of a ghost is to tell him you’ll text him and then block his number.
Whatever gets the job done, really.
