That One Single Thing…

Dating is...complicated for me.

I’ve been “on the market” for close to 10 years now and it has proven just as difficult for me to cold call a girl and make up conversation now, as it was back when I was in high school.  At least in high school I was a somewhat popular athletic guy, who had a decent amount of charisma.  But back then I didn’t have to worry about pursuing girls as much as sifting in between the ones I actually liked.  I still sucked at dating though.  You know that little boy you pass by at the mall, who has his face against the glass of Victorias Secret, and is about to learn what an erection is???  Yea…that was me, except the Victorias Secret is dating women, and my erection is…well…my erection. 

This kid knows whats up.

But aside from what my spontaneous erections may tell you about me, I do try to never make dating strictly about sex. At times though that probably does hurt me more than it helps me.  It seems I always tend to come up with the most ridiculous and unrealistic situations about why I should date a girl for everything else that she can provide me, aside from sex.  

For example: what if I’m trekking through the amazon, and while in waist high water, A candiru fish swims up my urethra and makes its home in my 21st digit.  And THEN the only way to remove it would be to remove Ol’ Tonys Baloney Pony.  WHAT THEN?

When your sister thinks its funny to take a picture of her embarrassed teenage brother with morning wood.  She was the worst person...ever.  It is funny though.

Example number two: what if my girlfriend comes home from her job at the particle accelerator that she was working on, and that day she decided to take a look inside to see what atoms traveling at light speed actually look like.  But then she finds out that atoms traveling at the speed of light actually look like HER ENTIRE FUCKING FACE BEING BLOWN OFF.  Will I still be able to date a woman I’m not sexually attracted to her anymore?  WHAT THEN?

This is Anatoli Petrovich Bugorski…he decided to look in a small particle accelerator.

I’m still undecided if by my trying not to sleep with every piece of vagina that is thrown at me is because I’m a good guy, or because I’m actually terrified of malevolent particle accelerators, and a spiny fish that lives in dicks.  Who knows.

This cute little thing IS MY WORST FUCKING NIGHTMARE!

If you’re any kind of a fan of psychology you would have already guessed that I have issues, and pretty much fuck things up with women before I’ve even had the chance to meet them.  I tend to be a super calculated person, and my overthinking of every probable outcome tends to get the better of me.  It probably costs me quite a few chances at that thing you normal people might call “Love”

BUT, thats not all I’ve got going against me.  Bad luck and horrible awkwardness seems to fuck me over just as much.  If I had to pinpoint an exact moment where it all went wrong, I guess it all began from my first real cold call dating experience. 

Back in high school I had the pleasure of dating an incredibly beautiful girl.  I was just coming off of what I still consider to be my first serious relationship, so this was actually the first time I had ever pursued a girl.  Up until that point every girl I was ever with had came after me, so this was all definitely new grounds for me.   Being the smooth individual that I am, I finally got the courage to get said beautiful girl to agree to a date with me…by convincing my good friend to talk me up and ask her out for me.  Like I said…SMOOTH.

I guess what neither of us really knew was that this was, for the both of us, our first real experience at the world of dating.  Apparently through some cosmic anomaly, she had never been asked out before, and I was her first real date.  (A fact that I found out about five years after high school actually) The date started off normal enough I suppose.  Her mom dropped her off at the incredibly mediocre Chinese restaurant we agreed on, which I guess for Kerrville it was considered to be top of the line since it wasn’t Chilis.  Upon first greeting her with an infamous Ass Out Side Hug, we were promptly seated in the half empty dining area next to a large bay window.  

It was time to begin with Operation Date Night.

“ok Tony…step one of “Operation Date Night” is underway.  Time to knock this date out of the park and you’ll have a new girlfriend by the time the fortune cookies come along.  Lets get the ball rolling with one of those funny jokes you tell around your friends”

“wait…what jokes?  I don’t know any jokes!”

“you mean to tell me you asked this beautiful girl out on a date and you didn’t work on any new material?”

“uhh…no I guess not”

“you realize were fucked…right?”

“(Sigh)…yea”

Operation date night suffered its first casualty.  But if I can just make up about 5 minutes of conversation, maybe I can talk REALLY slowly and make it last for 10 minutes.

Well in case you’re wondering “what exactly do two seniors in high school talk about when they know absolutely NOTHING about each other, and they are both awkward about being on their first real date?”

The Answer: Absolutely NOTHING.

She was a beautiful and an incredibly smart girl, and since you’re reading this I’m assuming you already  know that I’m pretty much a six year old trapped in the body of a mediocre looking older six year old.   Yea…not much going on here. 

Dinner was pretty much a short interview of some pre-rehearsed questions I just happened to remember, followed by the constant staring at sesame chicken, and my horrifying reflection in the window behind her. 

I had to think of some supplement to this date that would involve minimal talking, as to hide the fact that she was way out of my league and that I was nervous as fuck.  

“I KNOW!!!  WE CAN RENT A MOVIE AND WATCH IT AT MY HOUSE!!!  WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG??!!”

What indeed. 

So after a quick stop at Hastings for the movie of comedy gold that is Shallow Hal (insert sarcasm in the comedy gold part) we showed up at my house which was relatively quiet.  No one home to bother us so maybe…JUST maybe I’ll be able to turn this date around. 

Nope.

About Thirty minutes into us watching a moderately funny Jack Black movie while we are both fairly silent, making no eye contact, and awkwardly sitting straight up, I hear…THEM.

THEM was my family…my very drunk family just showing up in order to destroy what little chance I had at salvaging an already sinking ship.  I’m sweating…cringing about what I know is inevitably about to happen.  And then it happens.

About two minutes after they loudly showed up I hear one of my uncles yell “WHAT?  HES IN THERE ALONE?  WITH A GIRL?  I BETTER GO MAKE SURE HES NOT GONNA MAKE HIS GRANDMOTHER DISAPPOINTED!”

I look at my date, and she gives me looks of uncertainty mixed with what I'm assuming was pure terror.

As expected, my uncle BURSTS through my room door.  The smell of cock block and alcohol seeping through his pores is overwhelming.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY NEPHEW?  ARE YOU DEFLOWERING HIM?”

“I WONT LET YOU!!!”

Then he did it.  He straddled me on my futon bed like Rachael McAdams and Ryan Gosling on the cover of The Notebook.  

Definitely not this sexy though.

Awkwardness level has now reached maximum capacity.  The second and final casualty of Operation Date Night has occured. 

 I guess when he realized the amount of literal cock block that just occurred, he finally snapped to his senses, rose off of me,  gave us the Meet The Parents/DeNiro eye point, and was off on his drunken way. 

I Conceded. 

The date was now unsalvageable.  I waited until when my family would not be in line of sight of our walk out the door before I offered to drive her home.  I think we may have stopped at Sonic for a Limeade, but that part is pretty much all a blur for me.  Circumstance and my shy awkwardness ruined a perfectly good shot at a really great girl.  

Little did I know…that was my future.  

Fast Forward 10+ years and I’m still haunted by that first date.  

Sure I’ve had an amazing relationship, and a few great dates with awesome girls sprinkled in that time, but for the most part I would say 70% of the dates that I do go on do not fare much better than that wonderfully eventful night. 

BUT, in the last 10 plus years here are some things that I have learned about myself being in the dating game.

1. My friends, no matter how much they know me and every faucet of my personality, have absolutely NO CLUE as to what type of girls I’m in to.  

Friend - “Hey Tony! I’ve got a friend I want you to meet!  She’s twice your age and y’all have nothing in common…she’s perfect for you!”

Me -  “Uhhh…thanks but I’m not really interested”

Friend - “no wonder why you’re still single, you’re too picky.”

My friends probably hooked these two up as well...

2. If I actually do like a girl, I still talk to them as if I have a mouth full of peanut butter…even during the times when I don’t actually have peanut butter in my mouth. 

Girl - “HI!  How are you doing?”

Me - “Oh hello I’m doiwevoisgnegvaer erfacerrvxrutasvbr…ummm (cough) and you?”

Girl - “um…..”

The symbolism here seems about right...

3. ALWAYS LOCK YOUR DOOR AND DO NOT BRING A FIRST DATE AROUND MY FAMILY.  (actually this should be rule number One)  Not that it would probably make a difference though.

4. I’ve realized that I actually don’t care about dating anymore.  Sure its fun to be with a girl who makes me happy, but I finally realized how to be happy and date myself.  And you know what?  Dating myself is fucking awesome.  No questionable and endless debates about restaurant decisions.  I like all the movies I choose to go see.  I don't have to explain why Luke and Leia kissed even though they are brother and sister, to a girl who probably wasn't interested about Star Wars in the first place.  I come home at all hours of the night without repercussion. I can play video games or have movie marathons without constant judgement.  I can act stupid and I only ever have to worry about embarrassing myself, which I could pretty much care less.  And most of all…I’m almost always guaranteed to put out!

So theres that!