Five Dates

I have been on five dates in the past two years.  I think it is fair to say - dating is my least favorite activity.  I don't find it exciting or adventurous or an opportunity to expand my network.  It's not that I don't love meeting strange men in coffee bars - I simply hate getting ready to meet them. All of the effort - the pruning, the coloring, the squeezing into shoes I don't normally wear.  Seems like a complete waste of time, especially when it results in a punch line I tell at the after-date conference call with my sister. However, I do want to be in a relationship and apparently dating is a prerequisite -so I hold my nose and go. 

Date #1.  In the first ten minutes the guy referred to me as Cindy and apologized because Cindy is his wife's name - his current wife's name.  Date over. 

Date #2: I met a man on one of those dating apps, whose profile picture looked ok enough to swipe right.  We texted, he asked me out, I said yes.  I arrived at the restaurant early, found a seat facing the door and waited for him to arrive.  When I saw a 65 year old man hobble towards me with a - I can't believe she showed up look - my heart sank.  His profile picture was clearly taken 20 years ago. He looked like my Pops - God rest his soul.  Turns out there is a name for this - I had been catfished.   

Date #3 & #5.  Same guy - 18 months apart.  Again - stupid dating app.  The first time we went out for coffee, I introduced myself and then did-not-speak again until I said goodbye an hour later.  In between I made a lot of mmmm noises, nodding my head, trying interject a thought or an idea or an opinion.  Half way in I realized I really didn't need to be there at all.  The second time we went out - again, peer pressured into using that stupid dating app - I didn't recognize him or his name until I had this strange de'ja vu feeling like the Groundhog Day movie.  He didn't recognize me either, which was equally embarrassing. 

Date #4.  This guy practically spit out his coffee (spiked with Bailey's) when I mentioned to him that I don't drink alcohol.  Ever, he asked.  Ever, I clarified. He then informed me that he was just looking for someone to party with, chugged his coffee and left.  I totally get it, man.  

People tell me when I stop looking, I will find him.  Pa-leeze.  I'm not sure that is a legitimate strategy.  I think single people are always looking - some are just better at pretending.  My friends would say I'm single because I don't go to the jazz clubs (I don't care for jazz) or go to sporting events (I regularly attend my son's sporting events) or put on make-up before I leave the house (I'm lucky to put clothes on before I leave the house) or because I haven't learned how to enjoy my own company (I do like me, I really do like me!).  One day I will be fortunate enough to meet him or better yet, one day, he will be fortunate enough to meet me - until then - honestly, I am fine being single.  Wink. Wink.