The Worst First Date Ever

We've all had bad dates, right?  If you haven't, you're lying.  But no matter how horrible they are, you have to laugh at them, or you'll probably just go crazy.  I've had, well, I wouldn't say "a lot", of first dates, but I've had enough, that I have a top 5+ list of bad first dates.  I'm actually sure my list of bad first dates outnumbers the list of good first dates. 

#5 - I'm not a girl that requires a 5 star meal, a limo, or even spending money, period, on a first date.  I do require that you put a little bit of effort into things, and, you know...a little romance now and then.  Number 5 starts off with a guy that was originally from California, who asked me out in January.  The original plan for the date was that we meet at a restaurant.  At the last minute, he called to ask if I would come to his place, and he could make dinner for me.  Ok, so this might SOUND like a nice, romantic date.  It's his reasoning that gets this date added to the list.  It was too cold for him to go outside and walk to the restaurant, so it was a much better idea for me to get out in the cold, and walk to his place.  You don't win any chivalry points for making the girl do something that you refuse to do yourself. 

#4 - We actually have a 3 way tie for number 4.  And they're bad for the same reason.  One word:  Parents.  Boys, when you're trying to impress a girl, it's normally not a good idea to include springing the parents on her, especially not on the first date.  If you have any more questions about this, then you should probably lock yourselves in your parents basement, which is where you're probably living anyway.  But the mere fact that we do have a 3 way tie makes me question the guys that I've dated, and brings about one more disturbing trend.  Let's not go any further here, because if we do, I may just get even more depressed about my sad love life.

#3 - Again...lack of effort boys.  I understand if you're going to dinner in a town that you're not overly familiar with.  Before the date, it's not even a bad idea to get recommendations from the girl if she is more familiar with the area.  But showing up, having no clue what you're going to do.  Bad form boys.  And in this particular case, really bad form.  Had no idea what restaurants were available.  Obviously hadn't made a reservation.  Had no idea about the type of food in the restaurant we did choose.  And then we leave the restaurant, and get to the crowded movie theater, and I end up getting the leftovers knocked out of my hand.  Oh, and to top things off, he was the guy that told me everything I wanted to hear at first, so I was really excited to go out with him again.  It wasn't until 3 weeks later he finally informed me that he was a raging Republican (when he originally told me that he was a bleeding heart liberal).  And I only wasted 3 weeks of my life.

#2 - Ok...this ones partially on me.  Partially.  Again...lack of effort for restaurant selection.  And I had been under the impression that we were only getting coffee, so I ate lunch before hand.  Not great qualities to the first date.   But I looked good.  I had on a sweater, and my favorite jeans.  And what happens as we were walking across the street?  I fall on my face.  Rip a huge hole in the knee of my jeans.  And I was mortified.  Needless to say, there wasn't a second date. 

#1 - I could stop with one phrase, and most people would understand why this was the worst date ever.  Pink.  Shirt.  He wore a pink shirt on a first date.  I don't do pink.  I own a few things that are pink.  But on boys...uhm...just no.  And it was pink, pink.  Like, baby pink.  And he had come directly from work...carrying all of his work stuff.   But the horridity didn't stop there.  It kept getting worse from the pink shirt.  Ok, so he did a good job on restaurant selection.  I will give him that.  And the evening started off ok.  We chatted, things were going ok.  And then all of a sudden, the switch flipped.  I realized that I was in the middle of the date where it's like the guy read an article on what NOT to do on a first date...and he did them all.  Ok, so if you have to use the restroom in the middle of a date.  That's fine.  Don't tell me that water really runs through you.  Politics.  Money.  Family.  And specifics about all of the topics.  Oh, and how he went a little crazy when he was traveling through Europe.  At some point, I think he got frustrated with me because I was having such a bad time, I just kind of shut down.  But what do you expect when you're on the worst first date ever.  I will say one thing...one redeeming quality.  He did walk me home.  Not that I really want him to know where I live.  But it was polite.  But I'm glad I've moved from that apartment. 

At least I do have the good humor to look back on all of these evenings, and be able to laugh at them.  Oh my. 

I Hate Happy Endings

I am a 30 year old single girl living in the city.  And I hate my life.  Ok, so I don't hate every aspect of my life.  But I do hate the being 30 years old, single, and living in the city part.  Maybe I don't even mind the being 30 part.  But the other 2 things...I definitely hate those things.

I grew up in a small town in Middle America, where many people got married after High School, or right after college, and at the ripe old age of 23, I became an old maid.  I'm the girl that people look at from back home and pity.  Little do they know that I look at their life, and pity them.  Ok, not their entire life, because there is a part of me that wants a little bit of that small town feel, to settle down.  But I got out, I experienced other things, and after all of that, I'm making the choice to go back...eventually.  I can't say that their choice is the wrong choice, but I know that where I have ended up has been the right thing for me.  What their choice has been was probably the right thing for them. 

There are countless stories of bad relationships, and people getting out of those bad relationships, and then finding the perfect person.  Or the single girl who keeps waiting for Mr. Right to show up, and then one day, he magically appears.  I hate those stories.  I hate those stories, because it makes it sound like that happens to everyone, or that's what should happen for everyone.  Well...guess what.  It doesn't.

When I was 20, I started dating a guy who I thought was it.  He was the one for me.  He was the first guy that I ever called my boyfriend, and I fell for him so hard.  To this point, I had already experienced (and still was experiencing) incredibly low self-esteem, and was so enamored by the fact that someone thought I was worth dating, I didn't stop to see if that person was actually worth dating.  Four years later, I finally realized that he wasn't.  Ok, so I probably realized that he was a worthless lump of flesh long before that, but I thought I loved him, and I thought I was stuck.  But finally one day, I realized that I wasn't actually stuck.  I no longer had to endure his rage, where he would randomly throw things at my head, or hurl insults my way.

I found myself to be 24, single, and weighing 285 pounds.  But of course, I expected to get out of that relationship, and automatically find Mr. Right, because that's what the stories tell us.  What I found instead were a lot of lonely nights, and a long string of guys that still don't measure up.

I keep getting told that Mr. Right is out there, you just have to keep your eyes open, or just be patient.  But in any relationship story that you hear, it typically has a happy ending where the girl finally gets the guy, and they live happily ever after.  I'm not sure that I believe it.  I am hopeful, I am.  But there is a small part of me that fears that I'll be the 50 year old single woman living alone because I can't have cats because I'm allergic to them.

I often wonder if it's something that I do, or something that I don't do that makes guys look past me.  It's not that I don't know guys that are probably good enough for me.  It's that they haven't given me a chance.  My mom always told me that I just needed someone to give me a chance to prove myself in a job, to give me that chance to show how good I could be for them.  I'm notorious for not interviewing well, and I had found myself in a string of jobs that were below my intellectual level.  I'm not saying that I didn't have great learning experiences there, but I often found myself bored because it required no brain power.  But I finally did find a place that gave me a chance, and I flourished.  I've begun to think that way about relationships too.  I've found a long string of guys that were well below what I'm worth, and I've learned a lot from those experiences.  But I'm ready for someone worthy to look my way, give me a chance, allow me to flourish.

I'm not gonna lie.  I'm a catch.  I'm funny, a huge smartass, I'm stubborn, I'm smart and can carry on a good conversation.  I am well read, oh yeah, and I'm 22 days away from doing my first Ironman, I've ran 3 marathons, and am a little more type A than I really care to admit.  I don't like just laying around on the couch, I feel like I should be doing something.  I like good music, and I love to laugh, and dance, and sing...even if I'm horrible at it.  The dancing and the signing that is.  I have a great laugh.

Ok, so I've said all that, but I also realize that sometimes I'm slow to show some of those things off.  And I understand why that is too.  I think part of me is scared to show off who I am to everyone.  And part of me is incredibly slow to trust people.  Maybe I shouldn't be, but past experiences have left a few scars that are hard to break through.

So...what's the purpose here?  Just to allow me to vent my frustrations of being the single girl?  Maybe a little.  But more to share the journey of being 30 and single and living in the city.  To share the story of the happy ending not coming right away.  If it ever comes at all.  I want to be positive, and hopeful, but I also want to be realistic.