So I’ve been on a couple dating sites for a couple weeks now. I think it’s a record. Usually I’m bored on a Friday when I sign up and disgusted by Sunday when I delete my profile. I think this time I made it about 3 weeks. I gave a handful of guys my number. Have gone out on one lunch date. It was pretty good. He was a lot funnier in text than in person, but I’ve heard that I have that effect on people. I’m intimidating. I make people nervous. {insert eye roll here} But it was still OK. Except that he has kids under the age of 15. Way under. Elementary school age and younger. And that’s usually a deal breaker for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids. I just don’t want to raise anymore. So I have this rule about dating anyone with kids younger than mine, because I want to be able to get up and go when I want to and if I’m dating (or married), I want my significant other to be in the same boat with me. I know you can’t control who you fall in love with, and if it happened, so be it, but I’m selfishly not trying to get involved with someone who has kids that young. I can literally count on one hand how many kids younger than mine that I like, tolerate, or even want to spend any part of an extended amount of time with. One hand. Maybe One hand and one finger, but you get the point. I don’t do diapers. I’m done with potty training. I’m in the almost free zone. I’ve been raising kids my whole adult life. So if it’s selfish of me to not want little ones running around, then I’ll be selfish, I guess.
I also try not to date snorers either. Same reason. What if we fall in love? Move in together? Get married (even if that’s a far fetched idea)? And he’s a snorer. I will have to sleep with that noise in my ear for the rest of my life. And we all know that snorers don’t wait for you to fall sound asleep before they start sawing logs. Nope. They are three breath sleepers. One inhale. Two inhales. Before they exhale that third breath, they are snoring and you are trying to figure out a way to cover up your face with the pillow whilst not suffocating to death. A feat that can be done for a one night stand or the occasion fling, but not on a regular basis. That’s just too much. Or you are debating on covering up their face with the pillow, which would probably get you 25 to life.
Young Marley says that my list of requirements is too long. And it’s only getting longer. He also says love doesn’t exist. It’s just a figment of everyone’s imagination. We are all delusional. Except him. He’s a realist. I kind of think he’s full of shit. Or I did until I went back to online dating. But now. I guess I think he may be on to something. Not so much about love not existing, but maybe that too. He’s right that I may have too many requirements to find that guy. My list is too long. I also may be scared to find that guy. I told the poet the other day that dating may not really be for me. Not serious dating anyway. Maybe serial dating. I don’t usually pick confident trusting guys when I do date someone anyway. I usually pick dudes with low self esteem and trust issues that get projected onto me and make me lose friends. And lose myself.
I’ve been single for a while now so I’m not sure that I would let that happen again in my life, but I don’t want anyone or anything threatening my platonic friendships. I love my platonics. And my semi-platonics. And I think I’m a much better human being when I’m single. I’m happier. I’m myself. I’m a better friend. I don’t give a fuck what anyone says. I don’t have to answer to anyone about where I’m going or who I’m with or when I’ll be back. I don’t have to wash the dishes if I don’t want to. I can eat peanut butter and jelly for dinner three nights in a row and nobody complains… Well, Ok, Mel complains, but he’s old enough to fend for himself so there will be no catering to him. He’s a man now. Plus, now that the new 2K18 is out, he’s practically a ghost anyway. My point is, maybe I don’t know what I want. Maybe I don’t want anything because I can’t have everything. Maybe I’m just bored. Maybe I just want someone to take me out to eat. Maybe I’m just looking for writing fodder. Maybe I just want life to evolve naturally. Like it used to before internet dating. The old fashioned way. You accidentally bump into someone on the street. They invite you for coffee. You sit and talk for hours like old friends. You exchange numbers. You have actual phone conversations. You have shit in common. You laugh. It’s easy. Ok. You can stop laughing now. That wasn’t supposed to be funny. I guess it is because life rarely happens like that for real. Maybe that’s why I write. In my imaginary worlds life can happen however I want it to. But maybe I am unrealistic. Maybe I am asking too much. But I think it’s OK to want what you want. Just like it’s ok to not want what you don’t want.
Anyway, it’s been three weeks and I deleted my online dating profiles. I’m back on the non-dating wagon. Or at the very least I’m on the fence about dating. I wish I could say it was fun while it lasted, but it really wasn’t. It was more time consuming than anything. And I don’t really have time to waste right now with this whole trying to be a successful writer thing. So I guess I’m just going to get busy living. Because getting busy dating is apparently not my thing.
RouletteWeekend 