When I recorded the stories that made up The Forty, I wrote mostly from memory, with the benefit of perspective that comes with the passage of time. Now that I’m back in dating land with a renewed sense of intention (though perhaps lacking enthusiasm), writing about dating in real time has me feeling decidedly feisty. I’ve been like this all day at work (sorry, office mates), ready and all-too-willing to dole out sarcasm and sass to anyone who stops long enough to engage. If this continues, I’m afraid they may boot me from the office.
What I managed to forget in a mere three months is that
- Most people are flaky. I’m not sure this is because they are in fact flaky or they simply don’t have the time to get to know someone. Or maybe it’s because they know if they screw this up, they can always go back to the buffet.
- Most people are really bad at curating their profiles. Bonus points to Hinge for at least having somewhat interesting questions to answer so that even the most unimaginative stooge can come across as thoughtful. But to prove my point about poor judgment, here’s my all-time favorite (and coincidentally only) honoree in the Terrible Tinder Hall of Fame. Gaze upon its glory and ask yourself, “What kind of person would choose this as the lead pic for his dating profile?” And because I know you’re wondering, yes I did actually find this guy myself — he lives not too far from me. **Many apologies if you feel like you need to now scrub your corneas to get rid of the tribal tats-Ed Hardy douchery pictured above.
- Most people can’t manage much beyond small talk when chatting/texting. If you can meaningfully engage with me without leaning heavily on the drudgery of small talk, I’m interested in meeting. If it feels like work or if I’m bored…buh-bye, brother.
So far, I’ve met several poor conversationalists, several earnest unfunny men, one flake, four interesting prospects, and a smattering of miscellaneous characters. But I have yet to meet any of them in person. In fact, the only plans I have to see anyone involve none other than The Leo, who wants to meet for dinner so that we can find closure face-to-face. I agreed to meet him, mostly because I know how much I long for closure sometimes, and how infrequently I find it. So perhaps there is catharsis to be found. Or maybe just regret. Who knows? I’ll keep you posted.