Millennials. Non-committal flakes that they are have invented a new type of dating. Hookup culture. Dateless dating. Netflix and chill. Other annoying catchphrases. Essentially it’s a world in which no one makes a plan. Meetups are casual almost accidental. The will they won’t they question infuriatingly leaks into every weekend. No one really knows where they stand. Romance is dead.
My chosen career (and the fact that it’s 2016) means I’m often immersed in talks of big data, analytics, A/B/ testing, etc., etc. Unfortunately I never took the time to test out my marketing data learnings in my dating life. Well, maybe not unfortunately in a grander sense because things worked out okay for me, but if I had applied my professional data skills to my online dating experiments, they may have turned out differently. Or at the very least I could have gleaned some insights more interesting than “men on Christian dating sites are bizarre.”
Two years ago today I made a horrible, no good, very bad decision. I was a dirty bird who fouled my own nest. Dipped my pen in the company ink. Messed around with the help. Or I guess he did…Whatever, I’ll speak plainly, I made out with my boss. You have to understand. It was an incredibly romantic setting. I couldn’t help myself.
My first kiss moment occurred when I was but a lass of 15. Astyn B. was hosting an end-of-the-year party on her parent’s farm. (I don’t count the one inside the Kindergarten playhouse from Dylan or the time Tadd F. pinned me down in the gym in 3rd grade.) For most of the night I had been flirting with Josh P. as adeptly as any newly minted sophomore can (I’m sure he remembers my suave moves a bit differently). He was one of the taller boys with brown eyes that I thought revealed a very deep teenage soul. He had such style about him in his polyester Adidas shirt, which had a melted spot where the bonfire spark landed. It was one of a collection. GQ model material right there.
One of the few connections I made online dating that had any sort of promise at all was met almost immediately with the challenge of distance. Cosmic circumstances brought him out of my state and into another with no definite return date. It was unfortunate because he had the makings of great potential.
I’ve always wanted to try speed dating. I have no idea why. Maybe because that particular scene in the occasional rom com always looks so delightful. Maybe it’s because my least favorite part of the pickup is the part where you have to actually walk over to the human person who piqued your interest and speed dating has that approach built right in. Maybe I’m just a sucker for awkward situations and forced connections. And hey, it’s blessed by a rabbi!
Over the years, a number of men/boys/manboys have attempted to entice me into the boudoir using a variety of tactics. This is because I am just so darn irresistible—wait that’s not it—it’s because I was born with two X chromosomes. Most of these pleas are fairly laughable, including bragging about their adult film star physicality (yeah that happened) and explaining how they always wanted to cross someone like me off their bucket list (Oh, are you a Make-A-Wish kid? Let’s do this!). But some are just plain hurtful, like the scare tactic.
I didn’t think I had it in me, but apparently I possess the ability to crumble into a steaming pile of spaz with merely a glimpse of a guy I dated for a few months so long as that glimpse also includes an impossibly skinny brunette. There was a time that I dreamt I had more dignity than that, but I was wrong. Because today a poorly timed siting at Rainbow Foods just completely ruined my shit.
