Dating is a lot like adopting a mutt from your local animal shelter. You can’t quite tell what it is or where its been but you genuinely hope the two of you will get along, and that he won’t hump your leg. After swearing off men for life my hormones have once again granted me parole and allowed me to date yet again. I can’t say whether or not this is a good turn of events, technically there is something to be said for solitary confinement (not to mention the fortune you save on razors and lingerie), but I find myself once again at the mercy of the aforementioned mutts. One can only hope that putting myself out there again will lead to meeting interesting and well-mannered men and not leave me silently wishing for the ability to neuter my date.
To add extra fun to an already anxiety producing situation this is the first time in my life that I have dated outside of my safety circle of college friends. Collegiate dating was very similar to high school, just with a much larger senior prom dating pool, the very same pool I had been fishing in for the past eleven years. Outside of the safety circle you have to know your date based solely on what your date tells you about himself. The fact that I am having to rely on a man, a gender who would sooner sell his soul to the devil if promised that it would ensure him an eternal resting place with 4,000 virgins, scares the bejesus out of me. However, I’m trying to trust my instincts and hope for the best. Could he be lying straight to my face? Certainly. But I try to keep things in perspective. We, as women, aren’t the most honest dates either. Men have no idea that they are oftentimes talking to a pushup bra, Spanx wearing, foundation spackled, hairspray lacquered date. We don’t apologize for that do we? When was the last time you took off your 36C pushup bra in a moment of intimacy, tossed out two silicone inserts and said, “By the way Sam, I’m really a 36A.”
Theoretically the point of dating is to lead to finding, “the one”, and in such getting married. As a self proclaimed spinster I clearly have a strong lack of belief in that fairy tale. I figure if I’m going to start believing in the idea of some wonderful man getting down on bended knee and asking to spend a lifetime with me I might as well start believing in unicorns. In which case I’m going to sell my SUV and start riding my newfound mythical creature to save gas and protect the environment. Forming relationships though, despite my sarcastic ramblings of female empowerment and self preservation, remain an important part of life. A date isn’t just the occasionally free dinner, although that is a bonus, it is also a means to finding conversation and a feeling with someone in which you would have never known if you had stayed in solitary confinement. Sometimes you discover the mutt you’ve adopted is a fantastically faithful labrador and collie mix, oftentimes its a disturbing hybrid of hyperactive chihuahua and pudgy pug. Take what life throws at you, just make sure you give your new “pet” a trial run before you sign any commitment papers. Nobody wants to accidently fall in love with a leg humper.
