Since I’m getting married sometime in the next year or so, I am obviously subjected to all the jokes that come with it. You know, the “It was nice knowing Single Chris” and the “Your life is over now” variety.
There are going to be some down sides to getting married, but one thing I absolutely won’t miss about being single is dating.
Dating is the worst.
It is fucking terrible and there is nothing good about it.
And I’m not even talking about the actual date, because dating begins all the way back when you first spot that woman with such a great smile that it makes you think, “No way she was looking at me, is there someone behind me?”
Once you get The Look, dating has officially begun.
You think about what to say to her. You rack your tiny brain for days, begging it to come up with something clever to say to her, instead of thinking about why Rafael is the best ninja turtle.
If you’re lucky, you think of something and she accepts the offer of An Evening With You.
After that you spend the next days before the date wondering why she is dumb enough to want to date you and how you can prolong that effect until it is too late and she has no choice but to become your girlfriend.
Oh, and you also stress the fuck out about where you’re going to take her, because you can’t simply ask her where she’d like to go. You are The Man, and being The Man means you now have to act like you know things about restaurants that don’t have two-for-one beer specials and Photo Hunt.
Finally, after asking your friends where you should go and picking her up and trying to only look at her boobs when she won’t notice, you must endure being in public together.
Being in public together is terrible because everyone is watching.
Everyone knows that you two are on a date and they are watching you fumble over your story about how smoking pot actually improves your driving abilities.
If all goes well and you somehow make it through Public Time without wanting to run away, die or punch yourself for picking someone so shitty to spend time with, then at the end of the night you might get a kiss and a “Thanks, I had a really good time.”
Of course, on your way back to your apartment, even though she said it was “a really good time” you analyze every fucking second of the night and ponder when you should call her next and if she’ll even answer and why the hell did I tell her I don’t always wear clean socks???
After all of that, if nothing clicks and you don’t see the woman again, you repeat the process.
Only this time maybe you go for someone a little more slutty, so at least you can get something worthwhile out of the date.