Serial Dating 101

                Sometimes your friends know you better than you know yourself.  Instinctively, if you have had the same friends for several years like I have, you tend to be able to easily predict their next move in any given situation.  My friends are smart enough to know, that when it comes to my track record in the past 5 years of being single, being able to predict my next move when something doesn't go the way I planned, is expected.

                It has been a pretty shitty year in the love department for me, so when I finally had met someone who had actually sparked my interest, I found myself as about as excited as I would be if they were to invent a "New Car" scented douche.  Then as quickly as things went uphill in a positive way, they even more quickly went downhill faster than Amanda Byrnes career. 

                After being yet again at square one, I at least had one ace in the hole.  I had just ended my subscription to match.com, and had met several potential guys that I was interested in meeting, however just kept putting off meeting them because dating is exhausting and I was trying to find motivation.  Something such as getting my heart broken, not getting what I want, and or both motivates me.  When I told my friends about my newest failed attempt, they all knew that what was on the horizon for me, because like clockwork, I do it...Serial Date. 

                Serial dating is simple.  You line up as many dates in one week as you possibly can, with the hopes that you will meet someone who has the potential to make you forget about the previous person that dicked you over, or a great rebound at best.  For me, it is an avenue to keep myself busy and motivates me to not sit at home.  Being partially Italian, I am the type that if you fuck me over, chances are I'm going to never speak to you again, or completely forget about your existence on this planet.  If you go out on dates and don't find nothing useable, you still find a sense of accomplishment and pride in knowing that rather than sitting at home like a loser that is moping, you did at least try to put yourself out there.  I arranged 3 match.com dates for my week of serial dating.  After doing this, it helped me realize why I am happy to be single.

Date #1

                I had arranged to meet date number one at a cozy tapas restaurant in Shadyside.  (I would totally recommend it if I could remember the name of it).    I don't venture to Shadyside much, due to the lack of interest I have in people who tend to be on the snobbier side of life, so finding this restaurant was a bit of a challenge for me.  Being a seasoned pro at online dating, abide by golden rule #1: "Do not let a guy pick you up at your house the first time you meet him", so I told him I would meet him there. 

                Attempting to find parking on the main street of Shady Side is about as impossible as me winning a Nobel peace prize in Proctology, so when I found a spot on the main street, I took it as a sign that it was going to be a good date.  It wasn't until after I parked that I discovered the restaurant that we had agreed to meet at, was 8 blocks away.  Throw in a fast moving rain storm, and you have the beginning of the end of my luck.    I arrived 10 minutes late thanks to my fantastic parking job and ninja-like rain avoiding skills.  As I walked in, I saw one young man sitting at the bar and only assumed it was him, because after all of the connections I had made on match, the men started blending together and I forgot what some of them looked like.

                He was not a bad looking guy.  He had blonde hair and blue eyes, which really isn't my type (Unless your name happens to be or you look like Channing Tatum).  He was dressed very well wearing a purple sweater and khaki's so I had assumed that he was coming from work.  As we made our way to the table, I was slightly nervous considering I was stone cold sober, and I was on a mission to bounce back.  As we sat down, I immediately started engaging in conversation, hoping that it would get things rolling and lighten the awkwardness. 

                The conversation was very adult like involving alot of getting to know you general questions.  He reminded me of a tv character, however I couldn't put my finger on it.  I started thinking his demenor reminded me of Allen Thick's character from Growing Pains.  He was very mature, spoke well and seemed to be just an average normal guy.  For me though, it just wasn't enough, and I didn't really feel any spark.  He proceeded to tell me that he worked with inner city kids who had addictions.    Instantly it dawned on me who he reminded me of, the white version of Carlton from the Fresh Prince.  This is when I spaced out and started envisioning the look on these inner city kids faces when he walks in to the room for the first time, and started laughing in my mind.  I found it very hard to believe that teenage badasses (in their own minds) with addictions would give this straight laced polite guy any respect.  He had alot of enjoyment in what he did, and I had nothing but respect for him, however I would of loved to visit one of his sessions and be a fly on the wall..

                As the date went on, and the conversation started getting a little static and dry, I started to divert the conversation about "getting to know" each other, towards the annoying group of 6 women and 2 gay men sitting behind us being drunk and obnoxious.  I am convinced that thanks to Sex in the City, when large groups of 4 or more women get together and you throw in a couple of gay men , they instantly think their lives are the spin off series.  I enjoy girl talk, sharing sexual escapade stories and having the mindset of a female version of Family Guy's Quagmire, however, when you are on a first date with a guy you have no sexual or emotional feeling for, once the sex talk hits the table, well that shit is just cray...

                I can deal with a little boring, that is good for me considering my life is always chaotic and unorganized.  I can deal with acting prim and proper in public as long as behind closed doors I can be a closet pervert, but I cannot deal with a straight man's gay man's impression....especially when it is dead on.  For me, this is an instant lady wood killer that there is no coming back from.  As he did his impression of people at the table, I knew there wasn't going to be a second date, so I decided to make sure to save us both the trouble and aggravation of wasting each other's time.  Completely sober, and very tactfully, I explained to him that I have several gay friends, and his impression of gay men was very prejudicial  and I was very offended.  He apologized, asked for the check and we went our separate ways. 

Date #2

                I was quite excited for this one.  We had been talking since I had gotten on Match.com and had even upped the ante to exchanging real emails and a few phone calls here and there.  His emails were always off the wall and a little quirky, but I figured he was just more of an "in person" person.  I knew I was going to like him, considering he shared with me some of his favorite horror stories about online dating, so I knew he had a good grasp of it and was realistic.  Our big date consisted of meeting at a local coffee shop to keep it low key. 

                I wanted to make sure that I was on my A-game for this once, since there had been an excitement building up to meet him.  I spent an abnormal amount of time getting ready (like 1 hour to be exact) making sure that I had the perfect outfit, shoes etc.  I decided to wear my nicest pair of white pinstriped capris and a nice halter top that showed just the right amount of cleavage to make me look respectable and not trashy.  I felt I could of been the poster child for a Calvin Kline ad campaign. 

                I arrived 15 minutes early to the coffee shop.  It was 8pm, so the idea of coffee for me that late was not an option, unless I wanted to be up all night long.  I noticed a new drink that they were featuring that was similar to that of a chocolate milkshake, and immediately made my purchase.  As I walked outside to grab a table, I noticed an unfamiliar scene, a rain cloud heading in the direction of the coffee shop.  Trying to remain optimistic I sat outside and patiently awaited his arrival.  As I sipped on my coffee-less milkshake drink, I was unaware that it was leaking..all over my white pants.  With 5 minutes until his expected arrival to go, my drink managed to drip in 4 different locations on the front of my white capris, not to mention the even larger splash I acquired from running back in to the coffee shop on account of the torrential downpour that had started, so I went from Calvin Kline model to Quad Riding for Dummies, in the course of less than 10 minutes.  As I stared at the brown spots all over my white capris, I tried not to think of it as an omen and saw him make his way to the door.

                He was very good looking.  He was dressed as if he was going to a nice restaurant and not a coffee shop, but I didn't mind, I had figured he had just came from work.  He was Italian, nice build, great smile and had a natural dego tan, so naturally right off the bat I was intrigued.  I kept thinking that this was looking promising at face value, now let's see if he is just quirky or weird, so the conversation began.

                We were getting along very well, laughing, cracking jokes...he was actually very witty.  We spoke of topics about everything from how there should be a weight limit on yoga pants, to how there should be an age limit on all things affliction.  He was walking that fine line between cocky and cotnfident, which was fine because he could back himself up.  We also discussed different topics such as conspiracy theories, histories mysteries and even the topic of mail order Russian brides.  It probably sounds a little weird to chat about such stupid topics on a first date, but I find that more interesting and shows more character that the boring getting to know you questions. 

                We were exactly 1 hour in, and I felt like we could of chatted for several more  hours and lose track of time, boy was I wrong..Literally, in mid conversation about yet another random topic, he stops the conversation, looks at me and says, "Ok well I think I'm going to go now."  I can imagine the look on my face was the equivalent to that of a confused puppy that hasn't identified with the name you are calling it.  I gave him the same look my dog gives to me when he looks confused.  I looked at him and said, "Well this has to be the shortest coffee date in match.com history."  It was at that point, he seemed really repelled for whatever reason and was trying to now full blown practically run away from me.  I was so weirded out, I couldn't wrap my head around to what had just happened.  As he pulled away, I got in to my car, still dumbfounded.  I kept thinking to myself, "Was it the fact that I look like I rolled around in mud?  No, he told me I was very pretty.  Did my makeup run during the rain storm that made me look like the lost member of Kiss? No, make up is fine.  Do I have something in my teeth?  FUCK."  Completely forgetting that my drink had chunks of Oreo cookies in it, I managed to be so nervous and not pay attention, that I had black specks of cookies all over my pearly whites.  My teeth had looked like I had sprinkled them with pepper.  I don't know what I was more pissed off about, the fact that my teeth had looked like they had been seasoned with pepper, or that my date lasted as long as it took me to get ready.  Needless to say, I never heard from him again.

Date #3

                Still trying to overcome the embarrassment of the night before, it was now time for date #3.  We were meeting for dinner at chain restaurant and I was not excited at all.  At this point, I was exhausted, and reminded as to why I hate serial dating.  For the most part, I am a homebody Monday-Friday.  To get me out of the house during a week night, that is a rare occasion.  Being that it was a Friday night, I was still exhausted, unmotivated and just wanted to get this over with so that I could go back to being a hermit and alone. 

                Again not remembering what this guy looked like, I was greeted at the door of the restaurant by him.  It's amazing that they remember exactly what I look like, however I blame drinking for lack of memory.  He was decent, clean cut, wearing appropriate chain restaurant attire.  We sat down and he told me if I wanted to order an "alcoholic beverage" I could, to which I declined.  Right off the bat we started with the mundane "getting to know you" conversation. Right off the bat, I learn that he works for the same company as the gentlemen that I went out with the night prior, however it being a big company, there was little chance of them knowing one another. 

                He was extremely nervous and I could tell.  He was using his hands while talking alot, massive gestures you would expect from one of Italian decent, however I soon learned he wasn't Italian at all.  He also had a slight eye twitch, that I couldn't figure out if that was based off of the nervousness or if he had like turrett's or something.  I was very distracted by this twitch, and secretly counted and learned that his eye twitch was averaging about 8 per minute.  He seemed to have a very good heart, good morals, and was just an average all American guy.  I tried to see if I could use some "Shelby sarcasm" on him, to which it was him looking at me like the confused puppy this time around.   I knew I had to turn off the sarcasm and play nice, which instantly lead to nothing more than the friend zone.  With the hopes that he was getting it was heading this way, I proceeded to ask questions that you allergy do not ask someone  you are interested in, but questions that friends would ask each other.  "So why are you single? When was your last relationship?  What was she like?" and the ultimate "I'm not interested" question: "So how is match.com working out for you?"

                In a 15 minute conversation I had learned way too much already.  He only dates "older women" because he finds them to be more mature than girls "closer to his own age."  I politely asked him how old he was to which he repiled, "26."  Slightly irritated because I don't think any girl on this plant enjoys being referred to as an "older" woman, he then informed me that he has been on a ton of dates with girls, and after 1 date they never talk to him ever again and he just keeps striking out.  I felt really bad for him (believe it or not, I do have a heart), and instantly felt the need to share some "Shelby knowledge" with him.   My first topic of discussion was not to mention that you date "older" women.  I said to him, "I'm 29, yet you made me feel as if I am 62, by your comment.  You were a Sophomore when I was a Senior.  Where you are politically correct by calling me older, I do not need to be reminded of it."  My second piece of advice; "Be a little less vulnerable."   This poor guy wears his heart on his sleeve and it was very apparent.  I don't think he had an asshole bone in his body.  Arguments are welcome, however, I am not the type that likes to walk all over someone and know I can get away with it.  I need someone who is going to put up a fight and bite back.  This kid was a very big submissive who reminded me of the person that I was 5 years ago, and where my heart went out to him, I can see why possibly alot of the women he went out with didn't go out for a second date. 

                This is where it peaked.  I asked him when his last relationship was and he informed me that it was in High School.  Making him single for 8 years.  It explained why he was so nervous and the potential twitching...this poor guy just wants to find someone.  He then proceeded to tell me about his last relationship.  His last girlfriend (in hs) was a big emo/goth.  They were like night and day, that's why it worked, however a few months in to the relationship, he had noticed some "scars" on her arms.  When he approached her about it she flipped out on him and denied cutting herself.  Fast forward to Easter Sunday, where he decides to break up with her because she wants a promise ring, and he's not ready for it.  While she is standing in the kitchen, she jumped at the opportunity to cut the ham being that she was a pro at cutting things apparently.  With a knife in her hand, he decides to tell her that he needs some "space."  Clearly no one taught him to break up with an emo girl with a knife in her hand.  She proceeds to lunge at him with the knife, slashing his right thumb causing not only nerve damage, but to also turn him in to a permanent left handed user. 

                After thinking this was the end of the story, he goes on.  Apparently the "cut my boyfriend in the thumb," trick worked, because they decided to stay together.  Finally they break up for good in the early summer.  In a desperate attempt to get back at him, she decides to break in to his parents house (using the security code), and takes her new boyfriend of the moment up to his room, and starts having sex on his bed.  He then walks in to his room, only to see his newly ex girlfriend giving it to her new boyfriend reverse cowgirl. 

                It was right around this time that I had finished up my French Fries and I was sitting at the table absorbing all this information.  This kid was not only emotionally scarred from his previous relationship, he was in fact physically scarred.   

                Thinking that I had safely planted myself in the friend zone, he then hits me out of nowhere like a freight train with, "Well I think this date went very well, would you like to go out for a second?"  Fuck, what do I do now.  I feel bad for this guy because he has had quite a rough journey, yet there is no spark or romantic interest whatsoever.  If I never respond to this guy, he will feel as if he failed yet again.  I told him maybe we can hang out again, but I am extremely busy (which wasn't a lie) and I would let him know.  I never thought in 1 date I would hit a gray area...I think I'm going to suggest we go speed dating...

Keeping it real

-Shelby