Know what I’m wondering, dear reader? I’m wondering if I’m getting too comfortable in my singlehood. That maybe I’m actually afraid of trying to date again.
I’ve been on a total hiatus from dating for quite a while now. Months ago, I realized that I was completely obsessed with internet dating: I’d come home and open up my web browser, the four home pages of which were eHarmony, OkCupid, Yahoo Personals and PlentyofFish. Then I’d troll for chicks while dinner was heating up, and for about an hour or two afterward. Sometimes I’d send three or four or five emails in a night; sometimes I’d walk away from the computer in disgust because I wasn’t seeing anyone new – and then go back fifteen minutes later, as though new profiles would suddenly appear, or one of my messages would be answered.
So, one day I deleted those pages as my home page tabs – I made things like my blog dashboard, facebook and Twitter my home page tabs. And I stayed out of the internet dating game for a while.
Oh, I checked all the personals pretty regularly still, but not as obsessively. Eventually, I only looked a couple of times a week, or when I received a notification email.
At that point, I was sort of hoping to meet someone “the normal way” (whatever the ef that is) – you know, like on the street or at the laundromat or in Barnes & Noble. Except that I’m not all that good at being like “hey, you’re cute, what’s your number?” Nor do I think I’m much of a huge first-impression kind of guy. Most chicks tend to crush on me only after they’ve known me for a while – though they generally don’t tell me until years later. The ones that think I’m hot walking down the street don’t say anything either.
Whatever. I’m not complaining.
But I am now: I live in a fucking wasteland of teeny boppers and soccer moms. Ridgewood NJ is the place you go to raise your kids, not meet someone to date.
…aaaaand – I’m done. Complaining, that is.
So maybe I’ll move to Brooklyn, and maybe I won’t. I think I’ll wait to see where the wind blows me. CAUSE THERE AREN’T ANY CHICKS IN RIDGEWOOD DOING THAT RIGHT NOW. Sorry, did I say that out loud?
In any case, my point here is not that my life lacks fellatio. The point I’ve been taking forever to get to is that I think I might be getting too comfortable being single. I look at chicks’ profiles on the dating sites and I’m finding some reason why I don’t want to email them – anything from “too intimidating” to just plain “ew”. I’m not putting myself out there right now.
It’s not even that I’m too comfortable with being single, it’s that being single is my effin line right now: “know any hot chicks you can set me up with?”, “is your sister hot?”, “is your friend cute?” . . . Stuff like that.
The vibe I’m getting (yes, from myself) is that I’m a little too afraid of rejection. Which is stupid, because I kind of know all about that – been there, done that; no big deal. I’m also a bit complacent – afraid to take risks. I’m being selfish: dates cost money and I have bills to pay and hiking gear and gadgets to buy. Why do I want to spend money on opportunities for rejection? Pretty pessimistic outlook, huh? Yeah, I’m not a big fan of that either.
The other vibe I’m giving me is that (and I kind of said it two paragraphs ago) I’m wearing my singlehood like a badass scar. I’m showing it off, leading people to think “gosh, that must (have) hurt”. I don’t think self-pity gets one many dates.
So what am I going to do about all this? I have no idea. I’m kind of at a crossroads, though: I have to shit or get off the pot. Figure out if I want to spend some time, money – and yes, emotional energy – getting back into the internet dating scene. By which I mean put up some new pics, maybe rearrange my profiles, and/or join a new dating site.
OR simply accept that I’m single and maybe revel in it a little more than I’ve been doing heretofore. Let the wind blow me where it will (hopefully in different geographical locations, of course). But make no mistake: I have been reveling in my singlehood, but maybe not enough.
One or the other, though. I can’t sit on the fence anymore. I need to stop vacillating between reveling in and reviling my singlehood.