I Hate Dating

For the first little while, I'll be re-posting some of my favorite notes I've written over on Facebook here. Today's post (originally from 6.19.08) deals with my second-favorite topic of all time.

Normally I think I would have held off on this rather touchy subject until that late night hour when inhibitions are a memory, emotion is completely subsumed by rage and depression, and pants are an optional luxury. Instead, I’m tackling it in broad daylight, with the soothing sounds of Don Henley’s “The Heart of the Matter” dripping from the speakers (stupid over-playing soft radio hasn’t ruined this one yet. Give it time).

You all knew I’d probably write about this one sooner or later. After all, I am a Mormon male, single at age 24, just teetering on the edge of that dividing line between “late bloomer” and “menace to society”… although I doubt that even the Utah culture here really views older singles as lusty rampaging hell-raisers. I think they see us more as shadows, drifting on the edge of civilized society. Fodder for their other single friends.

Apparently, it doesn’t take that much common ground for two mutually dateless individuals to “be perfect for each other.” I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard people (my mom) tell me, “Oh, you two would have so much fun together. I mean, you’re both single…” She trails off, coughs, and then goes right back into a yenta fit with “I think you should try it.” Good advice, Mom.

I’ve never been a fan of arranged courtship anyway. The “blind date” just leaves too much up to chance, and I’m far too domineering to surrender that much control over any situation. It’s a bit too much like allowing someone else to select your meal at a restaurant. Yeah, their taste may be good, but it doesn’t matter how delicious and leafy green their salad is if you’re violent, savage, bleeding-cow eater.

Yeah, I’m sorry about the food metaphor. Never been a fan of food metaphors when it comes to talking about human relationships. Too much room for interpretation. For example: A while back, I went to a fireside meeting with other young men from my church. These meetings, especially in college towns, are really a form of dating boot camp. The presiding individual, bless his heart, chastised us for not taking advantage of the numerous dating opportunities presented to us. “Mothers send their daughters to Utah to find worthy young men to marry,” he said with a straight face. “There are three women out there for every one of you. It’s like a buffet.”

I don’t know what effect that statement would have had on you, but I went absolutely NUTS. I wanted to go up after the meeting, shake his hand, and ask him what I should do if the salad I pick for myself at the “buffet” decides to jump onto another guy’s tray.

If dating were REALLY like a buffet, it would allow for a greater level of customization. I could just step in the line, pick all the features I want out of plastic bowls sitting in ice-filled carts: “Okay, I’ll take green eyes, long black hair – curly, not straight… and throw in one of those badonkadonks.”

“You know how rich those are, right?”

“Pretty sure my heart can take it. While we’re at it, let’s throw in… I don’t know, ‘good cook,’ ‘housekeeper,’ ‘violinist,’ and… Hey, get those ‘career ambitions’ out of there! She’s got to have time to take care of me… I mean, the kids.”

Violinists are hot, and you know it!

No, in the REAL world, dating is more like a jigsaw puzzle. Except instead of 10000 pieces fitting together to make one picture (preferably one that, like Demetri Martin suggests, displays the words “Go Outside!” on it), you get one piece and have to match it up to one of 9999 other pieces to create some shining golden “happily ever etc.” Now, some pieces are obviously completely incompatible, so you can throw those aside. But then you get those that are just too cute to pass up on, so you find yourself madly beating the two pieces with a sledgehammer, trying to get them to fit. When you’re finally forced to admit that there’s no match there, you get so depressed over your failure that you curl up with tissues and a bucket of Fudge Ripple in front of a Gilmore Girls marathon. You ladies aren’t the only ones, you know!

So there’s a lot of detective work that goes into real courtship – asking questions, keeping an eye open for details, Google searches, Facebook stalking, etc. And even if two people are absolutely PERFECT for each other, there’s still a plethora of pitfalls awaiting them if they decide to pursue something together.A prolonged relationship simply SHOULD NOT happen if the two individuals in question aren’t good for each other. And I’m not just talking about whether they use the right amount of tongue when they kiss (Geez, I just grossed myself out!). When you’re with the one you “love,” or “like,” or “just can’t get enough of”… well, other people should want to be with you more because of him or her. Your “li’l pookie” had darn well better make you want to be a better person.

Then, of course, there’s the biggest factor in any relationship: desire. Or, as Bono would say, “De-si-ay-ay-ay-i-ay-i-errr!” Strangely enough, this means that couples who do not actually WANT to be together won’t (or shouldn’t) be in a relationship. Go figure.

Now I said “couples,” but really, that should just be “individuals.” That’s right, guys, it doesn’t matter how strongly you feel about Miss Hot-Awesome, or if God told you that she’s the one for you – if she doesn’t feel the same way, then there’s nothing happening there. I firmly believe it is possible for one person to get a lot out of a relationship that is detrimental for the other – what’s right for one may not be right for both. Sorry.

“Wow, Stephen,” I hear you say in voices filled with awe, “you sure do know a lot about dating and relationships. You’re very wise.”

Thank you. Kind of you to say.

“So we’re guessing you must have a lot of experience with women. You probably go on dates every weekend with three girls at the same time.”

Now, if we were in the same room, you would see me suddenly occupy myself with an invisible spot on the leg of my pants and clear my throat.

Yeah, I don’t really date all that much. In the past year, I’ve been on… two real dates. One was a blind date that actually wound up being kind of a fiasco (thanks a lot, Biz!). So in the past year I have successfully, without excessively wetting myself, asked out one girl. Go me!

So what’s the deal with my reluctance to date? Well, there’s a lot behind it. One part of it, I think, is a simple flaw in my nature. Dating, especially frequent dating, is an exercise in patience and optimism, whereas I’m a roiling, boiling cesspool of cynicism and self-loathing. Therefore dating ranks just under “Beat my head against a proverbial brick wall” on my list of “Ways I want to waste my time.”

However, I’ve recently come across another explanation. I was sitting with a couple of friends in a movie theater, waiting for “Kung Fu Panda” to start, unaware that the coming demonstration of martial arts brilliance would make us go blind from over-exposure to pure awesomeness. During the idle banter before the movie started, I told them a bit about my family – I have three brothers, no sisters. And it hit me: I’ve never really been around women much in my life. I don’t really know how to interact with them in a meaningful, non-embarrassing way. Girls, I may well be afraid of you.

I suppose I COULD take this moment to overcome my fears with some self-affirming recommitment to putting myself out there. Let’s see what that would look like:“All right, ladies, listen up! I’ve had it with awkward, aimless conversations and pussy-footing around the real issues. You know why I’m talking to you, and I’m not afraid to let you know about it. I like you – all of you! I’m going to swallow my pride, stick out my chest, and get back out on the market! And I’m coming to your house after school!”

Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be changing anything. Now if only I could convince Facebook to let me change my relationship status to “Atheist,” I’d be all set.