So, I have recently become aware…I have a flesh-eating disease.
Okay, not really..but I feel like I must!
Here I am…21. A mom. And I’ve never been on a date. I’ve never been drinking at an actual bar either, but getting drunk off overpriced liquor with strangers somehow seems like less of a loss. It’s not for lack of trying or desire to be dated or to go out, just from the lack of willing participants I guess.
I’ve only ever been with two people and neither ever took me out. I can’t really tell you why it never happened. It seems like a logical and natural progression in a relationship. You meet a guy, he smiles dreamily at you, there’s some melting involved and then you make a date for later flirtation.
I mean, I think I’m fairly good-looking. But then, they have no problem looking. I’m magnetic for withering, clothes-removing looks, but when it comes to speech I’m stuck as the only speaking person in a silent movie. The few guys I have had talk to me must have been drunk, asking blatantly (despite my lies of having a boyfriend) if I cheat. I see them coming, rolling my eyes at their inability to control from staring practically through my clothes and feeling unimpressed with my ability to distinguish the type of underwear they’re wearing with ease, their shorts hanging low enough to be a midget’s pants . Their vocabulary of “whadnut’s” and words that I’m sure might have once been english, have me quickly adding them to the list of people to avoid. I thought statements like that only happened in Adam Sandler movies. Oh so very scarily wrong. But then, guys don’t need much encouragement to stare, off in their own fantasyland. I can just hear the little conversations I have with guys (both imaginary, and sometimes embarrassingly, REAL ones), counting off in my head…. Hello! I am more than boobs and depreciating body parts. I am up here, goood, that’s it. Yes, I am aware that I am naked under my clothes, and also very aware of your conversation with my chest rather than my face. Thank you very much, but that is not the kind of “customer service” that I think is appropriate from a sales representative as yourself.
Anyway, that’s nothing we don’t already know, or worse, already experienced. So. This fact that I have not been properly dated has been vexing me lately. I woke up this morning, looked myself in the mirror, and wondered what was wrong with me. It bugged me all day and turned into a full-blown mix between a daydream of what it’d be like, and why people didn’t automatically assume a date was necessary to “get to know” a girl anymore. For future reference..the two don’t mix.
I wonder what it feels like, first date gitters. The feeling of butterflies in your stomach as he rings the doorbell and you embarrassingly remove your dog from crotch of his pressed pants. Eating with him at a nice restaurant, dressed up and smelling sweet, feeling like floating. A kiss at the door and dancing alone in my room in a silent parade of emotions, leaving me smiling as I drift off to sleep.
I hope I’m not building it up too much in my mind, this dating thing. I suppose it would depend on the person you’re dating. Everyone says it’s overrated, but obviously they haven’t been a social pariah before.
It’s so easy in our modern world of internet and texting and twitter to get caught up. You no longer have to buck up the courage to walk up and talk to someone or call their house just to hear their voice. You don’t have to plan elaborate or cute dates to enjoy, and why do it if you can go through half the effort and get exactly what you want? You can find them on Facebook and message them, text their phone without a word spoken (and plenty of time to screen your words so that you don’t sound like an idiot, whether you actually are one or not), or even email them with the one listed on profiles by Facebook or a number of other networking sites. Our virtual world only serves to give us a false sense of security that we know a person through our online or texual interactions. We build our relationships online. Virtual dating.
Hello Virtuality. I would shake your hand but it seems that your mother-board is in the way…Is that a mouse on your desktop, or are you just happy to see me?…You have beautiful flash drives.
At this suggestion, romance and thoughtfulness took the first terminal on the golden-gates express..True love disappeared in a puff of scientific theory and evolution..And many other amiable qualities were convinced to be leashed but eventually ran away, never to be heard from again.
RIP romance, who brought us roses and candlelight and picnics in the park. Who made our moments magical.
RIP thoughtfulness who drew a bath after a long day at work, or spent the extra time to write a sweet note and put it on our car.
RIP hard work, who actually saved up for a nice date and could keep a job
RIP gumption, who stood tall in the face of adversity and asked the most popular or pretty girl out, or knelt in the middle of a crowd of people and asked his girl to spend the rest of her days with him because she would always be in every one of his.
RIP persistence, who didn’t give up, even when the girl turned him down 10 times, and who wouldn’t stop calling until she answered.
RIP respect, who loved themselves enough not to let them be used and truned into an object, either by others..or by being the user.
RIP true love, who did try hard to get people to notice, but instead was rejected for The Wrong Man/Woman, Lack of Self-Reflection, Career, Status, and Pride.
And to all the others, we hope to see you again sometime soon.
Seems such a shame I was born in this time period sometimes. The Victorian Era or even the 40’s at times seem more enthralling. My generation has lived to see the death of common sense, Australia, Social Security and…as it seems..dating. The real way.
And if I’m wrong, I will be overjoyed to be proved wrong. For a guy to get to know me for ME and not for his need to discover what is in my pants, as if I’m the Bermudas Triangle and need to be seen, stripped, and categorized. Luckily, I’m a fast learner. After number one, and more regrettably, two, I’ve already maxed out my number of bad relationship ideas for the century.
So, I will return to my rejection of your reality, substituting my own. Back to trees and wild skies. Back to a good book and real, brewed coffee. Back to Looney Toons and no Hannah Montana. Back to real work, even if it fulfills one more stereotype than I prefer. Back to respect, of me and others. Back to the truth.
Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed the show..Thank you and goodnight..Don’t forget to tip your usher.
paintbyletters 