I’ve been making an effort to date lately. This really isn’t about dating and mating and all that, so much as it is about making my mother happy. Any possibility, however small, of my DNA being involved in a reproduction process is enough to send her into fits of glee these days. While that’s definitely a perk, this drama that basically consists of eating with strangers (and a fair amount of freaks) is highly over rated.
For example, there is the time I have to spend picking out cute outfits. If I’m being honest, I don’t buy cute clothes. I buy shoes instead. When showing up to a date with great footwear and otherwise naked is an option, I will be on board. Until then, I am out of luck. My BFF told me a few months ago that my clothes were all too geared towards work. Well, duh. I spend most of my life there. Sweater sets and black suits. Easy; even if a bit “I’m beginning to dress like mom.” It’s also a bad wardrobe sign when the 23 year-old “I still wear belly shirts” person at the Place of Lawyerly Things told me I was her clothing role model for when she hits “her early to mid 30s.” Shit. So coming up with cute date clothes from my non-cute wardrobe causes headaches. And that’s for the first date. The second and third are nightmares because at that point, he’s seen the best of the bunch.
The stories people persist in telling during that first dinner are also amazing: No, I did not know you had a boa constrictor. (Scary). You fed him a live goat yesterday and it bleated for ten minutes after being swallowed. (Okkkkaaay.) Yes, I agree that some people would find that nifty. I am not one of them.
Despite all the negative aspects, it became worth it when I struck gold: A great guy who is normal and funny with an actual job and is blessed with color blindness so he doesn’t notice I’ve have the same shirt in three colors. It’s like heaven after months and months of horror. I met this wonderful guy and he didn’t mind the no driving thing and sent me flowers when I was sick. He could cook and tolerated my adoration of Britney Spears pre K-Fed. Bliss. I was suddenly on the dating bandwagon. I thought it was true that everybody has to kiss frogs to meet a prince. So, Amazing Guy and I went out this weekend and had a lovely time. Right up til I met his wife.
Turns out Amazing Guy is actually Scum Sucker Extraordinaire. We were at a local hot spot, people watching and talking about nothing but still finding it all insanely funny. At some point, I looked up because I felt the Glaring Eyes of Hell drilling into me. There was a woman and a few of her friends, jaws gaping and that “I am going to kill” stance starting to become apparent in their body language. Unknown About Wife and pals approach and ask who the, “(*(^&*(^)&%*^ #%^$#*^$(%)*&^ are you and what are you doing with my husband?” I think I really did feel the world rock at that moment. Long story short, she believed me when I said I had no knowledge of any sort that the SSE bastard was married. I quickly got out of there before her Posse of Pissed Off Friends decided to exact revenge on my tender skin. I even managed to secure a ride and make it home without having a total meltdown about the incident or the multitude of people at the mall who were watching the show.
I’ve now spent the last few days racked with guilt about something I truly was the innocent in, reliving what I now think of as my Springer Moment, and generally thinking about buying my mom a puppy. It’ll have to do as a substitute grandchild since today I realized I really do hate, detest, and abhor every aspect of dating.