It doesn’t take long for a single girl, working on total life reconstruction and deep self-exploration to decide that they are able to stand the idea of meeting a stranger for drinks. There is a certain appeal to putting on make up and real pants and pretending to have the best personality in the world. It’s uplifting at best, and hilarious at the worst.
I should note that my having drinks with strangers was proceeded (as I’ve decided it always should be) by an evening sharing copious amounts of Crab Rangoon and whiskey with an old friend while haughtily throwing out any online candidates listed as under 6 feet tall. Being that I’m not in the market for Prince Charmings, I can have unreasonable expectations like “must not wear khakis”, “likes only movies I like”, and “chews with his mouth closed”. Though that last one really should just be a general life rule.
I’ve never had a lot of hobbies, but I do have a gaggle of unmarried friends, and we have somehow found time in between major career changes and laughing at Fraiser to spend an unreasonable amount of time dissecting online dating profiles; specifically for comic relief. For this I do apologize, but I am not sorry.
Things I have learned about men who are single in the 25-35 age box:
One: Everyone is a “dreamer” and a “gentleman” and literally no one wants to “play games” or “deal wit dat drama”.
Two: “Getting in the best shape of my life” is the single man battle cry, which I can only assume is the direct result of a recently capsized relationship with a woman who replaced love with heavy portions of soul food.
Three: They have an exorbitant amount of pictures of themselves holding fish.
and my personal favorite, the man who takes pride in even the smallest of victories:
For now I’m generally unimpressed.
I have experienced a fantastic smattering of pick-up lines from, “Dang girl you’re a hot piece of apple pie.” to the slightly more uncomfortable and anxiety driven, “Hello I’d like to get to know you cause I want a longterm relationship for forever…or we can just be friends”. And then there are the men that come at you from behind their computers with lines that would make their mothers want to wash out their mouths with acid. It’s humiliating, for them. It’s degrading, to most women. And it’s hilarious, for everyone else.
Sometimes it’s such a miss it’s not even a loss. I had a quick date with a man that can be summed up like this:
Unfortunately I would consider that relatively successful, albeit dull, in the end. At least compared to the complete disaster that was “Gary”. A couple of my friends and I had just very unsuccessfully finished a game of trivia and a guy I had been talking to decided to meet us out for a post game drink. This guy was “Gary”. Amid the hellos and the introductions, two drunken trivia players collapsed booth side and Gary (somewhat) politely engaged them in a conversation. Girl One was giggly. Girl Two was hot and heavy. She began caressing her hair, rubbing her hands along her neck and throwing “come hither looks” at anyone who might venture to thither. It was the most uncomfortable two minutes of my life. Thankfully Gary went to the bar for a drink and Girl Two went along, ridding of us of what can only be described as sexual un-magnitism; like the ocean being drawn toward the shore and resulting in a colossal tsunami.
According to the bartenders, there was a lot of pulling (her) and pushing (him), shortly after which Gary grabbed his drink, went outside and was never seen again. Abbey, the bartenders and I debated the following possible outcomes:
1) He fell into his drink and drowned.
2) She hit him over the head with her shoe and shoved him into her trunk.
3) Or he went looking for more of a horizontal refreshment *cough*
He later claimed that it all got too uncomfortable for him and he had to “get the hell out of there”. I don’t really blame him. Girl Two was exactly the kind of girl you would expect to say something like “I want to unfasten my jaw and swallow you whole.” while stapling pictures she found on your LinkedIn Profile to her bedroom wall.
Ah well. Gary looked like he would wear khakis anyway and there is always this guy. He has good references:
“Buddy of mine found your profile, thought we would get along. He said you were hot and seemed like a good time. Said I should message you. That man’s name… was Jesus Christ.”