Drrrrrumroooooll please!………………aaaand one sad balloon floats down from the roof. No fireworks, no cheers, no magic and no explosions…not even a spark.
By Golly, Miss Molly, what have you gotten yourself into?
Okay, so this wasn’t IT. I mean, I didn’t really expect for the first guy I went out with to be ‘the one’, but it would have been nice to experience even a molecule of attraction. But that didn’t happen. It’s generally not a good sign when you’re walking down the street and looking at nearly every other guy and thinking that you’re more attracted to them than the guy you’re currently with. Yeah, it was that bad.
And he wasn’t terrible, there was just nothing. Not a single ounce of chemistry. Oh sure, I worked hard to be charming, create banter, be funny. And after years of practice doing this I know I’m good at it. But after a certain point, a certain silence just kind of falls between the two of you and you’re desperately looking around you for something, ANYTHING to comment on. So I went with city tourism and architecture. Fascinating, I know. But it was something.
I keep trying to find reasons to justify my dislike. But I really can’t. He paid for dinner and walked me to the train station (I thought I had escaped at this point, but then he waited with me until the train actually came…more silence). I just didn’t like him.
If I had to give you ONE reason, it would probably be this. Although he was admittedly diligent in keeping up the conversation when I let it die, it just didn’t seem like he was really interested or invested in our date. It just kind of felt like it didn’t matter to him that I was sitting across from him.
Is it too much to ask for me to WANT my date to WANT to be there. To be with me?
Anyway, my panic-stricken self wrote down some notes on the train ride downtown, so I’ll share them with you for a lark as you see my brain go into override mode.
So here we go, this is Molly, blogging LIVE from the edge of her seat (literally, she’s on a train) before, and during, her first date.
Tuesday, October 10 2017
Oh boy, Yikes. Oy vay, aye carumba, dios mio, oh dear God. WHAT have I done? I am barrelling towards my destiny on a GO train. So, this is love, people. I’m going to repeat myself now. WHAT have I done?? There is an hour and fifteen minutes left until I am supposed to meet this guy. I don’t even know his last name! Admittedly I know enough from our text conversations to be able to track him down if he wasn’t lying about himself. But I wouldn’t do that…at least, not yet anyways.
What am I doing? What am I thinking? I’m in full panic mode and I’m chewing gum so I don’t grind my teeth so hard they fall out. And that is NOT cute. Having no teeth is not a good look. I’m now using the gum to deep clean my gums and shine my teeth. Is this what desperation looks like? I’m a mess. How do I ‘people’ again? I think I’ve lost my ‘peopling’ skills., or at least they are escaping me for the moment.
How do you even greet someone you’ve only met over the internet and through texts? Do you shake hands? Is that weird? But standing there doing nothing seems kind of awkward. Waving. Is that a thing? We’re two stops away now. Why can’t I feel my feet? No, actually I can’t feel them!! Oh. It’s because I had them crossed on the seat over from me. But it still feels like all my bodily functions will soon fail me.
My (supportive??) younger sister cheerfully texted me to tell me to keep the data on my phone on so that she could GPS track me if I was kidnapped…Then my dad texted the same thing. I think they think I’m nuts. Maybe I am? Maybe, I’ll take off my wig and leave it as a clue so the dogs can smell it and find me.
(I apologize if this post seems erratic, but I wanted you to experience every feeling I have as I do this. Potentially so you don’t make the same mistakes. Now I’m making myself sound as though I’m martyring myself. Saint Molly, has a ring to it don’t you think?)
Anyway, that’s what you get when I blog LIVE, with no editing, exposed to the real me. Also, reminding myself to breathe is taking up a lot of valuable brain space.
This is possibly due to my naivete, but isn’t kissing ridiculously unhygienic? I mean…things squishing, fluids exchanging, where the hell do I put my tongue if his is in my mouth? Do I kind of arm wrestle it with him or am I submissive?
Oh man, I want an escape plan, but I purposely prevented myself from making one ahead of time for fear I’d run. And that’s probably a good thing too since all I can think about is texting some lame-ass excuse, taking off all this makeup and running home with my tail between my legs, bitch that I am.
‘Coward’, I tell myself, where will you be then, huh? Right back at the beginning, dateless and depressed with no prospects or hope.
Damn, I’m going to have to go through with this. Please say a prayer that I don’t wet myself completely before the night is over?
Also, despite having never met David (that’s his name, FYI in case I forgot to mention it), I feel guilty for carrying on a second eHarmony conversation with a match named Brad. Is this how online dating works? Giving someone ‘permission’ or make it socially acceptable to talk to two guys with the same ultimate goal of finding romance? Any thoughts?
If he asks, I wouldn’t deny it. I’d say casually that I’d started talking to someone else early on when we were still getting to know each other.
Ugh, this is exhausting. I’m sweaty. You know what’s NOT exhausting, is less expensive and does NOT require travelling or dressing up or meeting a stranger. SITTING ON MY COUCH. It calls to me. It’s sweet, upholstered and open-armed embrace a siren song to my tortured mind.
It ended like this:
And you know the rest. So this princess’ lips are left pouting, and NOT in a kiss.
But that’s life, and that’s me: Molly. Stay tuned! XOXO