The original forty wrapped about a month ago, and if you’ve read through even a select smattering of my dating posts, you may have noticed how much I changed from the beginning of My Year to where I am today. Reaching my goal of posting my stories here has me feeling a bit introspective, so I’m going to indulge my nostalgia for a moment.
A little blog background for you: I started dating in late 2017 but didn’t start this blog until about nine months later. When I chose my URL and username, I only had about 38 matches (defined as people I had actually met in person) under my belt. But optimism in naming this page prevailed, and rightly so, because I ended up with a grand total of 45 matches at last count. So who didn’t make the cut? Read on…
- Deep Cut 1: A much-too-young-for-me lawyer with an uninspired sexual repertoire. Nothing great, nothing terrible. Nothing memorable either.
- Deep Cut 2: A flaky 30-something who had big aspirations but lacked the intelligence to pull them off. Only silver lining: stamina to spare.
- Deep Cut 3: A photographer who used his “nice camera” to take pictures of my ass, promising me I could have them, then never sending the pics or texting me ever again.
- Deep Cut 4: A handsome but nervous guy who made an excessively big deal about wanting me to dance FOR him on our FIRST date. Seriously, bro? No.
- Deep Cut 5: A super promising first date that ended without even a kiss because neither of us could read the signs that we were both interested. We figured it out later via text but never made plans for a second date.
And just for fun, an honorable mention: a guy I never met in person, but who was pushing excessively hard for an in-person meeting after also insisting on a facetime call to rule out catfishing. It’s hard to say whether it was his mindless babbling on the facetime call, the impressively large number of unsolicited dick pics he sent, using an alternate number to text me after I’d blocked his number, or some combination of the three that led to us never meeting. I mean, really tough call.
After the first seven or eight matches, I usually wrote whatever post I felt like writing and paid little attention to chronology. The main reason these gentlemen (term applied loosely in some cases) weren’t included in the forty is that I simply didn’t feel motivated to write about them. The dates were generally uneventful with only one or two remarkable details — in short, terrible fodder for a blog post. So now they’ve each been reduced to a bullet point on a depressing list of rejections.
Sometimes I wonder if some equivalent action is occurring at this exact same moment (i.e. I am being written into someone else’s story as a regrettable, forgettable afterthought). While I hope not, I also love to know that I’m being thought about. No such thing as bad publicity, right?