Ah, another week, another tragic date. Such is my life. And I was so excited for this one, too! This was me, about a week ago:
It was a lovely date, it really was. I was really excited and happy afterwards, but I’ve since come to the realization that I was two glasses of wine deep and probably would’ve had fun with anyone who was even sort of interesting. Or maybe that’s just the excuse I’m giving myself now. Either way, the first date was great.
The second date was Saturday night, and it was a dinner date. Let me explain to you what’s wrong with that. I can’t eat in front of people I don’t know. I can barely eat in front of people I do know. Part of my anxiety is centered around eating, so a dinner date is just hell on earth to me. So I’m already all amped up and nervous, but I don’t want to say “can we do something else” because I’m trying to act like a normal, well-adjusted person. Also, he doesn’t drink, so it’s not like I could ask if he just wanted to get a drink instead. (For the record, I’m not judging him for not drinking. I don’t drink that often, but I feel like with dating, for me personally, a drink or two is downright necessary to get comfortable with one another. What am I gonna do, have sober sex? Ha. No)
Anyways, we go to this restaurant. I order the risotto. It’s very good, not that I ate more than 3 bites of it, which is a god damned shame. We’re talking, and it’s fine, but it’s fine, you know? I don’t want fine. I’m talking to him and thinking about how nice he is and how he’s funny and easy to talk to but there’s something missing and I can’t put my finger on it and then I realize– we’re just friends. I don’t want to bone him.
So I panic. This is my first second date ever, and I’m blowing it because I can’t just muster up some feelings for the poor guy. I start thinking of all the things that are probably wrong with me, and then I start spiraling into some weird shit. I’m simultaneously bored and elevated so I just start asking weird, deeply invasive personal questions and I can. not. stop. It’s like watching myself drive directly into a flaming trash can. To his credit, the guy is taking it pretty well, he’s playing ball, he’s tossing weird shit right back to me, but by the end of dinner I’m about hyperventilating and I need to get the f out of there.
I somehow get him to call me a Lyft to the Gem Saloon to meet my roommates and when we get to the car, I realize this is a moment where we’re probably supposed to kiss. I’m not into it, but I just cannot crush his hopes and dreams right in one single moment, so I kissed him.
Then I got into the car and I yelled “FUCK”, “WHAT THE FUCK”, and “WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME”. I probably ruined his Lyft score, but I don’t care. I ended up getting wasted that night (because I had an empty stomach!!) and texting my ex for the first time in three months.
Anyways, what I learned from this date is that the guy can be perfect and I can STILL hate him, so there’s probably something wrong with me that I should discuss with a licensed clinical therapist. I also think I am clearly not ready for a relationship, and I should only get involved with someone whose emotional life is already ruined, so as to not hurt anybody. If you know any severely emotionally unavailable men, let me know.