Thursday, February 12, 2009

My Give a Damn's Busted

Dating is absolutely, one hundred percent, without a doubt.....A challenge. A thrill. A nightmare. A laugh. A I-Don't-Know-What-The-Hell-Is-Going-On at times.

Monday night I was out with my friend Erin for dinner and drinks at the Daily Grill - in which we were working at getting Erin over a sad breakup - and we hopped over to the Front Page for an after dinner drink. The Front Page is great on week nights - the weekends are just full of horny co-eds - so it was exactly what we expected when we showed up: not too crowded, available seats at the bar and a few tables, quiet music, and a friendly bartender.

Erin and I planted ourselves on bar stools and ordered beer on tap. Engrossed in our conversation, I didn't notice the man near me who kept glancing my way. After 20 minutes, he finally interrupted our discussion and began engaging us in conversation. He was very nice and polite, mildly attractive, good job, and from Paris. I was intrigued by him, but he really wasn't my type physically. Oh, and he was waiting for a friend - translation - date, to arrive. Once she arrived, Mr. Paris continued talking to me and Erin, including his date in the conversation. After a while I had to use the restroom. I excused myself and walked downstairs to the bathroom. When I emerged, I found Mr. Paris waiting for me. Shock!

He followed me to the bathroom.


He asked me when he could see me again. I replied "you're here on a date."

To that, he said "yes, but it's you I want to see, not her."

Again, seriously????

The end result was that I told him that I sometimes come in for happy hour and that maybe I would see him again. Next stop was to tell Erin that we were leaving. And Erin, having witnessed Mr. Paris follow me downstairs, had already closed out our tab and had my jacket in hand.

Around this same time that Mr. Paris was picking me up while he was on a date with someone else, Mr. Florida has been slowly entering my life again. I received several emails and finally, about 15 text messages one night where he spelled out his feelings and why he deserved a second chance. The killer was that he let himself get drunk in order to spill his feelings and chose the cop-out method of using text messaging rather than having the decency to call me....flash back to when he Joe Jonas'd me. Honestly, that ship has sailed - I realized in our time apart that it would never ever in a million years work out. Therefore, while I've had time to digest and evaluate my life and feelings, he's remained dependent on the idea of me in his life....probably because I disappeared from it so quickly. Smart women know that when someone hurts you, you do what you have to in order to be OK and survive. I assume that the percentage of women that actually fall into the "smart daters" category can be limited to about 25%. I'd like to consider myself a happy part of that percentage....though tears are shed and the heart aches, you have to move on and be happy for you and only you.

Simply put, dating and living in a world where technology is at our finger tips making pick ups and dating multiple people (and being sneaky at it for that matter) so convenient and easy, is not healthy. It's one big challenge. One big game. One big I-Don't-Know-What-The-Hell-Is-Going-On.

My give a damn is busted.

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