Datestravaganza

In the last six weeks, I've been on more dates than the rest of my life combined.

Growing up, I was a late bloomer--no boobies until 19; a social pariah--I was never asked to a school dance, ever; and the owner of a plethora of annoying personality quirks--talking too much, getting overly excited at little things, telling painful truths, and randomly falling down are only the tip of the ice burg. No dating, no surprise. When I joined the Navy a recruiter, PN2 Scott, warned me that they would "be coming out of the woodwork" after me, and I couldn't have been happier.

He was sort of right. Many a ill-intentioned sailor took interest, but very few had much see through. The first three dates I said yes to, I was painfully stood up. Lots of apologies, extenuating circumstances, give me another shot, yada, yada. No thanks, didn't want to get burnt. I was jaded. Dating had become synonymous with rejection and humiliation. Now, this isn't to say I didn't have intimate relationships, but we would usually go from buddies to "buddies" without all the formal games. I don't really care to speculate on how many boyfriends I had between the ages of 18 to 20, but the no dating policy remained firmly in effect until I was getting ready to go overseas.

I had a friend, Jason Kimlinger, who had asked me out at least three hundred times. He would come hang out at my room--like everyone else, "Party in 824"--but he would make up songs about my feet and rub them for hours. Though our friendship was strictly platonic, he'd bring little tokens of affection like hundreds of four-leaf clovers or especially pretty metal shavings from work. Day after day, the answer to his requests remainded no. This was probably because he was always filthy, never shaved, wore the same ripped shorts and dirty t-shirt everyday, and mooched like a pro grifter because all of his dough went into working on his ugly truck. He was an asshole, too. Jason once broke his hand punching my wall because I wouldn't let him beat up my smartass little brother who was begging to get knocked out (a feat Shawn accomplished shortly after).  So it was to both of our surprises that I finally said yes to a date two days before transferring overseas.

Jason showed up with a dozen long-stem red roses, a corsage, and a card telling me I looked moovalous with a picture of a fat Holstein on the front. He was wearing a new white button-down shirt, slacks, tie, and dress shoes. He'd even gotten a haircut and a shave. His truck was clean for the first time I'd ever seen, and instead of blaring country, he had it tuned to my favorite oldies station. He hated oldies. We went to a fancy riverboat restaurant and then walked around Seaport Village. Jason had even packed my favorite beer instead of his usual Bud. He didn't try kissing me goodnight, thankfully, but he did rub my feeties until I fell asleep. <--- Right, there. That was fifteen years of positive dating karma in one night. That was the last time I saw or heard from him.

Flash forward to September of 2010, I'd had four more dates. One decent '96, one ok '09, one horrible '09, and one I got married the day after '00. I'd more or less settled back into the thanks, but no thanks mentality. That's when a friend whom I'd met on Plenty of Fish--don't judge me--shared his serial dating experience. He had taken the anxiety out of dating after divorce by just doing it. He went on lots of dates, made lots of friends, and even found a couple of women he was really into, some more than others, pun intended. Sounded like a good idea to me, so I jumped in with both feet. Though I still said no more times than yes, eight dates later I discovered dating isn't that big of a deal. In fact, I think I may have been dating all my life but not categorizing it as such because I was over thinking the whole thing. Also, it wasn't much fun.

I've found that my life is very full with or without dating. More often than not, going to the movie with a friend or the kids is better than with a stranger fellow I want to impress. Wine tasting with my girl friends is way more fun than doing the same with someone I'm on guard against trying to get in my pants. Though I'm thankful for my recent experiences and the friends I've made, I'm putting the breaks on the revolving dating door. I like my time too much to squander it in awkwardness or boredom. BBQ's, the occasional Friday-night karaoke, or a brisk walk are fine, but my online profiles are going bye bye. This doesn't mean I'm embracing spinsterhood just yet, but I am going to start valuing my time a little more preciously.

So, what is a date? <--- Really, I'd like to know what everyone thinks on this one. Please. It's for posterity.