I wanna know what love is...
Kat's hilarious posts about her online dating adventures have me thanking my lucky stars that I'm not single. Well, okay, technically I'm single (no marriage license in possession), but we consider ourselves married. I'm just rather averse to getting to the government involved. I mean, what business is it of theirs, anyway?
For someone who was single for so freakin' long, I really have very little dating experience. When I think of dating, I think of courting rituals: initial conversations over the phone, meeting for coffee or a drink or dinner, someone showing up on the doorstep with flowers, etc. Who the hell did that? No one I knew. We met our men in bars...and have the track records to prove it. (And to think I always wondered why it never worked out...)
We all have dating horror stories, of course. I remember my friend E. going on a blind date. The high- (okay, low-) light was when her date said over dinner, "Gee, for a Jewish girl you sure don't have much hair on your arms."
I recall standing at the bar in a club in the Haight in San Francisco waiting for my friend M. It was a weeknight and the bar area was sparsely populated. The next patron was at least six feet away. He suddenly looked over at me and said, "I wanna know what love is and I want you to show me." Even without the pot belly straining the fibers of his polyester white turtleneck and the heavy gold chain around his neck, I still wouldn't have been interested.
I once woke up naked...in a sofa bed...in my boss' living room...with one of our best clients lying next to me...a mere two hours before my performance review. (Drinking problem? What drinking problem?) Don't think THAT wasn't awkward. :) I got the raise though (gotta love the TV business).
Then there was the time a guy asked me to dance in a club in San Francisco on Valentine's Day. The second sentence out of his mouth was, "We should have children." I found him repulsive at first glance, so of course I embarked on a mad, passionate affair that lasted until he moved to another continent...with his wife...and children.
My specialty was making sure that any man I was interested in would never have the foggiest idea I was interested (so would therefore think I was a stuck-up bitch)...and instead ending up in relationships with men who were interested in me even though I wasn't remotely interested in them. My mother raised me to be polite, but I think that's taking it a bit far. I thought anyone who asked me out should be given a polite, "Yes, of course, I'd love to" even though inside I was screaming, "Not on your life, pal!"
Thankfully I met the boyfriend after I was sober. Finally, a good decision! :) It boggles my mind to think that we're coming up on 10 years together. Me, the woman who used to equate commitment with the sound of a cell door slamming. I had some wild times--and certainly some (drunken) fun--but I was ready to settle down. Boy, was I ready. So if H. thinks we're a coupla boring old farts, that's okay. I'm content to be boring these days. Dating? Drinking? Drama? Been there, done that...got the t-shirt to prove it.
For someone who was single for so freakin' long, I really have very little dating experience. When I think of dating, I think of courting rituals: initial conversations over the phone, meeting for coffee or a drink or dinner, someone showing up on the doorstep with flowers, etc. Who the hell did that? No one I knew. We met our men in bars...and have the track records to prove it. (And to think I always wondered why it never worked out...)
We all have dating horror stories, of course. I remember my friend E. going on a blind date. The high- (okay, low-) light was when her date said over dinner, "Gee, for a Jewish girl you sure don't have much hair on your arms."
I recall standing at the bar in a club in the Haight in San Francisco waiting for my friend M. It was a weeknight and the bar area was sparsely populated. The next patron was at least six feet away. He suddenly looked over at me and said, "I wanna know what love is and I want you to show me." Even without the pot belly straining the fibers of his polyester white turtleneck and the heavy gold chain around his neck, I still wouldn't have been interested.
I once woke up naked...in a sofa bed...in my boss' living room...with one of our best clients lying next to me...a mere two hours before my performance review. (Drinking problem? What drinking problem?) Don't think THAT wasn't awkward. :) I got the raise though (gotta love the TV business).
Then there was the time a guy asked me to dance in a club in San Francisco on Valentine's Day. The second sentence out of his mouth was, "We should have children." I found him repulsive at first glance, so of course I embarked on a mad, passionate affair that lasted until he moved to another continent...with his wife...and children.
My specialty was making sure that any man I was interested in would never have the foggiest idea I was interested (so would therefore think I was a stuck-up bitch)...and instead ending up in relationships with men who were interested in me even though I wasn't remotely interested in them. My mother raised me to be polite, but I think that's taking it a bit far. I thought anyone who asked me out should be given a polite, "Yes, of course, I'd love to" even though inside I was screaming, "Not on your life, pal!"
Thankfully I met the boyfriend after I was sober. Finally, a good decision! :) It boggles my mind to think that we're coming up on 10 years together. Me, the woman who used to equate commitment with the sound of a cell door slamming. I had some wild times--and certainly some (drunken) fun--but I was ready to settle down. Boy, was I ready. So if H. thinks we're a coupla boring old farts, that's okay. I'm content to be boring these days. Dating? Drinking? Drama? Been there, done that...got the t-shirt to prove it.
posted by Marilyn at 1:18 AM
1 Comments:
amen, sister . . . did you watch Thelma and
louise again? i'm due soon . . . though it certainly won't help my bad attitude toward the menfolk right now :)
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