There's Tenacity, Then There Are The Truly Tenacious..
Usually, after the 74th time I say no, they stop asking if I would consider dating.
I’m what you might call a professional single woman. If being single was college coursework, I made the Dean’s list every term. If being single was a vehicle, I’m a ‘66 Nova eating a 1/4 mile track. If being single was a holiday, I’m everything from the 4th to the 1st.
There is a level of comfort that I find in being alone. I can be all of the oddity that I am without being judged by the person who is following me around my home insisting I tell him about my day, my plans, my past. Uuuuh, hold on, bruh, you’re making me super uncomfortable with all of this following and talking.
I don’t enjoy speaking to anyone before at least 3 cups of coffee. Even the dogs know not to mess with me before that happens. If you value your life at all, I do not advise you are between myself and that Kuerig when I decide to begin my day. My hair is a mess, my mascara is raccooned, and I really don’t want anyone looking at me like I need to fix myself until I am ready to fix myself.
With all of that said, I must tell you, I have essentially given up on being a happily ever after. I have no whimpering to do, this isn’t something imposed upon me, this is exactly what I set out to do. The headaches and drama that come along with dating someone in a long term situation…Actually, no thanks. I’m good. We’re all stocked up on dating here, maybe the neighbors might need some, did you try them?
Now, I have mentioned Mr. Portland in passing, and I must tell you, the dude should have been a long-distance runner. Truly, he’s not much for giving up. 2 weeks, and 3 “I just can’t make it’s” later, and he is just as determined. I’ll give him this much; a lesser man would have given up twice by now.
I told him about Grindr, and that I have a list of Fuckboys that would make Trina rewrite her lyrics. He doesn’t seem fazed like nothing rattles this dude. It’s rattling me. It’s as though he takes everything in life in stride.
After being with someone who broke every dish, picture, and door in my house, all while screaming at the top of his dumb ass lungs, I really am a little unnerved. I have heard that these guys are out there, but much like Sasquatch, I thought it was a myth.
Now, everyone knows, I have a few truly incredible guys in my life. Brian, Howie, Dave, my people from way back like Tone and Big J, Adrian and them, but that’s like family to me, you know. None of those men are swimming in the same shallow end of this alleged dating pool with me. I know factually I can call upon any of the men that are family to me if anything happens, and they’ll be here quickly, either phone or in person. But to have someone, a someone who is making an attempt to be my someone, be that kind of guy? I seriously don’t know how to handle it.
That’s actually really awful, that I am more comfortable dealing with these fuckboys out here, because their behavior is 100% predictable. They’re not paying for shit, they’re trying to put their feet on my couch, they’re eating up all my damned Lucky Charms while I’m at work. This is just standard Fuckboy behavior.
But, Mr. Portland, who always texts good morning and good night, who calls when he says he will, who always makes it a point to ask me about me, who seems to not have his ass in a sling, I’m Bo Dukin across the damned hood trying to get the hell out of the potential dating arena.
What in the actual fuck is wrong with me? Isn’t this what I so often jumped on my soapbox and shouted about? I want a great guy, an educated, attractive, loyal, decent guy! I roared at the top of my lungs about this for several years. Yet, he’s standing in front of me, and I’m moonwalking to the exit like he’s not going to notice me.
This week is Valentine’s Day. He has asked me to accompany him. Dancing. He dances. Don’t even get me started about that. So, after I say no every day this week, too, let’s see what happens. I think he’s starting to wear down my resolve. I really need to stop writing half-assed love stories because it’s making me soft.