The Dating Puddle

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for...a glimpse into the 30-something single-girl dating diary. Dim the lights, pop the popcorn and get comfortable because you're all in for a entertaining treat.

Okay, maybe not.

I have to admit - I'm way out of practice when it comes to this whole dating thing. My last relationship was over 6 years, immediately following a 4 year-er, and my idea of date night was where someone else cooked dinner, there was more than just a fork on the table and I could wear heels (instead of flip flops) with my jeans. I know, I know.

I hate dating. Dating, contrary to what some good-intentioned friends tried to
convince me, is not like riding a bike. Because, you see, bike-riding does not involve progressively more complex and confusing levels as you age. You can wear the same bike-riding pants at 20 as you can at 30 and 40 and 50. You can even ride the same bike (or one just like it). You can get back on a bike seat and everything feels natural all over again. This is not the case for those of us who have been stepping around the dating puddle for such a long time. Apparently the rules (and clothes) of dating change as you age and all of it has the peculiar stench of awkwardness.

But, since we're on this whole living life kick I decided to give it a whirl. I got my nails done, my hair all fancied up, threw on a (gasp) dress and hit the town with random guy #1. Random guy #1 gets his name because we met in a random place, at a random time. I'm assuming there will be a random guy #2 - eventually.

Anywho, I guess in your 30s the word "date" means dinner and then maybe something following dinner if you're lucky enough to not have made a fool out of yourself in the first 60 minutes. Have you ever tried to have a conversation with someone you barely know that you're trying to impress and analyze all at the same time as you're chewing?? It's not that easy. Inevitably, there's always a question that comes right as you take a bite. But, awkward moments aside, dinner was filled with conversation (between chews) and very little silence, which I took as a good sign. Mission accomplished. And, I'm proud to say that I even knew enough not to consume enough alcohol to float a yacht (although the jitters were definitely encouraging me otherwise).

So...dinner's over...here's the true test...and the suggestion was dessert. Hmmm, not sure how to take that one. Here's what went on in my head, "Dessert? We just left a restaurant that served dessert. Is this a true extension of a date? What exactly does dessert mean? Am I over analyzing this? Argh."

Sigh. On to the next awkward moment.