As we drive down windy streets lined with spacious, alluring houses, I ask him about his life. This will be the third date and I haven’t gotten to know him, yet. Not really. I mean, I know the basics – the job, where he grew up, how old he is… but other than that, nothing. He has mentioned somewhere that he likes me, but I don’t know how that could be. Really, he knows nothing other than my Instagram updates and Snapchat stories.
I didn’t even really want to go on this date, if I am being completely honest. My parents are going to Buffalo Wild Wings and that just seems more appealing. I was starting to wonder why a night out with my parents was more enticing than dating. I guess this is what happens when you are completely and utterly burned out when it comes to the opposite sex. I am.
My best friend and I have a hard time understanding why people jump into relationships. I used to be that person. I have had two serious boyfriends, both within a short time of each other. Now, I just can’t seem to care less. I am having too much fun going to bars and eating waffles in diners at 3 am. Plus, I’ve seen the ugly in relationships – is that something I really want again? I’m not sure.
However, I’m trying to be more open to it. I realize that if I don’t put myself out there I could, one day, be the cat lady. Except – I’m allergic to cats. It’s really pathetic when you can’t even be good at plan Z.
Christmas isn’t lonely for me now, but maybe one day it will. I also think there’s a fine line between not actively looking for a relationship and crossing out the idea completely. It’s healthy to want to have a serious relationship with other people. It’s healthy to want to get to know someone better.
So here I am, hair curled and red lipstick on, wondering why the guy sitting next to me is talking in riddles. I’ve been in his car for 20 minutes and I’m already frustrated. I’ve tried to get a better idea of his life, asking him the staple questions – how many siblings, his favorite color, if he snowboards. If you were to judge by only hearing his answers, you would think I was asking him for his father’s social security number.
“Why are you asking me so many questions?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m just trying to get to know you better.”
“Oh,” he says, looking out the window.
I get some answers, but finally give up. It’s not worth the frustration. I also realize he has not asked me one question about my life. I don’t really care to share, anyway… I’m busy mentally kicking myself for not going for wings with my parents like I wanted to.
This is why I don’t date, I thought suddenly. Why would I?
In the past few months I’ve dated a few guys and it seems to me that most of them think they are interested in me, while none of them actually are. Usually they try to impress me by blasting music to cliché songs and belting it out, kind of like a scene in a movie. Every time this happens, I want to throw up. Don’t get me wrong, with the right person, blasting music and driving can be a deeply romantic thing; but with these careless guys, it just seems more like a gimmick, a way for them to show themselves off. I’m not interested.
I can count on one hand the number of times these guys have shown genuine interest in my life. Don’t worry, they are more than willing to over-share their ideas about money and careers and… blah. Sorry, I was only half paying attention.
It seems they are just as burnt out by females as I am by males. Otherwise, why would they think that I care about the amount of money they make? Why would they think it gives them an advantage to say, “Hey, I got this – trust me, Mon, I don’t have to worry about money.” (Yes, that happened.)
Insert big eye roll. Turns out these guys seem to think they are chivalrous without actually being chivalrous. Turns out I don’t care.
After giving up with the questions about his life, the conversation turned to sarcastic comments and teasing each other. I’m the queen of teasing. I think it’s one of the best things you can do in a relationship. However, if it’s your only means of communicating, things dry out so fast. Between the teasing, I learn that my date is openly racist, something I find not only sickening but completely astonishing for a 20-something in 2014. I find out that he cares more about money than basically anything else. I find out that he is more interested in himself than other human beings.
I come home and vent to friends, who tell me my favorite cliché: When you stop looking, love will find you. This proceeds to make me angrier. I’m not looking for love. I actually hate love. It’s caused quite too many problems in my life for me to actively seek it out. However, if I can’t fall back on the cat lady plan, I guess I should spend an afternoon on a ‘date’ instead of just hanging out with my parents as usual. There seems to be a conflict in clichés – half the people in my life tell me it’s time to ‘get back out there’ and half tell me to ‘stop looking.’
I’m somewhere in between. I guess that’s probably where I’ll stay until maybe one day I’ll find someone worth leaving the in between for. Until then, maybe I’ll just pull out my sketchbook and start drawing some cats. It’s kind of the same, right?