Dating Sucks and So Do You

In 25 years I can say with certainty, I’ve never been in love. Sure I have experienced love, I love cheesecake, Hello Kitty, the feeling you get when you take off your bra/shoes after a long day. But another person? Not really. I can think of two possible candidates, my grandmother and Sabrina, a childhood friend who died when I was 13. But that love is the love a child feels for anyone who doesn’t yell at them all the time.
But I want to. I do. Deep down inside of me there is a girl who craves to find someone who understands her, accepts her, loves her, finds her beautiful and wants to be with her, but that girl is deep, deep, deep, deep, deeeeeeeeeeeeeeep down inside of me. On the surface is a girl who just wants to get laid and possibly spoon while watching The Walking Dead (no talking or boners please). And much like a zombie in search for warm, soft brains I go in search for warm, soft affection.
Surprisingly, I’m very popular on the internet, a direction contrast of real life. Not to brag (this is really nothing to brag about) but I get so many emails that I can’t keep up, get so overwhelmed and disappear. So many shirtless abs, dirty bathroom mirrors, and fedoras I can’t even stand it! I have been on Okcupid, Plenty of Fish, Geek2Geek, and Fetlife (don’t ask), been on probably a dozen dates and most have been complete disasters. Whether it was the endless conversations about how much they miss their ex or telling me they know what women need and what is destroying America (starts with f and rhymes with geminism) they have been one tramatizing exercise in the horrors of heterosexuality. I am convinced its the men of my city, most of whom are plaid shirt wearing, inept, sports obsessed, beer belly, beard wearing, patriarch loving he men who enjoy women that remind them of either other men or younger versions of their mothers (complete with pastel polo shirt and khaki capris).
Recently I was stood up for a date, the second date within a week. The guy practically begged me for another chance (he had sudden emergencies twice before) and I gave it to him. His father had a heart attack he said, the last time he totalled his car and the time before his mother had to go to the hospital. This guy is either the unluckiest guy in the world or the universe is conspiring against his possibility to ever get laid. Maybe both. But needless to say I politely declined (read: called his ass and chewed him out via text and voive mail) to ever see him again and bid him good luck. Since he was the 2nd person to stand me up to see Iron Man 2 I took myself to see it. It was good. But I was still pissed off. Where does this guy get off thinking that he can cancel a date, for the third time, hours before, for the third time and just expect me to be stupid enough to want to hang out again?? Is my phone number 1-Please-Date-Me? No? I didn’t think so. Too many letters.
So I have decided on a break. For one year, 12 months, 365 days I will not date. NO DATES. Not even a coffee date, not even a walk around the block, not even a ride home. I need to cleanse myself. Reorganize everything and understand what it is that I want. Am I really even looking for love? Or just a consistant fuck. I don’t know. Am I looking for the one? What does that mean? My career is more important to me right now and if I have to be single for the rest of my life in exchange for being Oprah rich, sign me up! Love is nice, but it doesn’t pay the rent.
So its just me, and my vibrator, for a year. I’m relieved. I need this. It’s going to be good for me and really fucking hard. I crave affection. I just get the urge to hold someone and kiss them softly on the base of their back and trace their facial features with my finger while they sleep. I long for dinners for two, holding hands, catching a movie and reading together on stormy Sunday afternoons. I dream of falling asleep in someones arms, waking up to their sleepy face and laughing so hard that we beg for each other to stop. I yearn for inside jokes, marathon movie watching, and late night confessions.
I am not going to lower myself, change myself, dumb down myself, tone down myself, hide parts of myself, or comprimise myself to find some dude to hang out with. Thats just not me. I’d rather be miserable alone (like normal) than miserable with someone else.
So for a year, I’m going to be part of the single sorority, declinging even the most promising of dates. Not because it’s good for me, but because I need it. The fear of dying alone or never experiencing affection again is very real for me and it makes me go out on these fruitless, bullshit dates. I need to confront it head on, so that I will no longer be a slave to the fear. I CAN be alone. I can and I will be okay.
Being alone is okay and I’m okay too.