Last year, I decided that I would stop jumping from one serious relationship to another. I should, I figured, give myself some space and breathing room to explore. While that’s proven to be the right decision, I’ve discovered that dating is, nonetheless, an exceptionally awful pastime. There’s a lot of anxiety around meeting someone in the first place – attempting to catch the eye of the cutie on the train; hoping that guy 50 times older than you with the leering smile would stop trying to catch your eye on the train. Then, there’s the texting, or e-mailing, or sending messages on Facebook and the gut-gurgling misery that arises from not being able to tell if someone is kind of into you or totally into you.
Next, there’s talking on the phone, which is a nightmare of nerves, and, finally, meeting in person. Whether you’ve already met your person in a cute movie-esque sort of way at the bookstore or cafe or your weekly radical sex workshop, or you met them online, the first date is always The Worst. Because of feelings and fears and the inability to hold down your food.
If the date goes well, great. Anxieties ease, feelings develop. You’re on a good path.
But if the date doesn’t go so well?
Well. Back to the looking, and the texting and messaging and phone calls, and the first dates. Again, and again, and again.