I am tired of dating.
Nope, correction, actually I am tired of trying to find someone to date.
I remember when it was easy. Back in high school, you'd see a cute boy; you'd look at him, he'd look at you, you'd smile, he'd smile back, you'd flip your hair, then before you knew it he'd be by your side. There'd be some conversation if lucky and before you know it, pen would be hitting paper and you'd be off with your girlfriends debating his level of cuteness and what you'll be wearing on your first date.
Now, it's like trying to decipher the formula for moni-chloride thilate.
Take tonight for example – went to the launch party for the new El Museo Del Barrio.
I returned back to Carrao, where I started watching short, unattractive (to her) guy after guy try and make a play for her. I spot super cute bald guy with goatee across the room where he's around quite a few girls. This is when I play one of those strategic moves I learned from The Rules way back when. I'll look at him, make eye contact, smile and hair flip – even though my hair is in a pony tail (it's been raining all day, how else would my hair look) – because that way he'll know I'm interested from way over yonder. I wait and wait and wait – he never looks over. Finally short guy number three that doesn't stand a chance with Carrao leaves, and I point him out to her. And of course, this is when he finally looks over and sees her.
Which begins the fun filled game of 'is it me or her you want'.
Carrao swears he's checking me out, I swear he's checking her out and then he gets ruled out because in the end he makes his way toward us – holding some other chicks hand. Strike number two…
Since I had made a pact with myself, that I was not to leave a venue without either giving or receiving a phone number (and getting some random email, does not count), I decided to try again. Carrao spotted this guy and asked me if I thought he was cute….for her? He was and when I went over and started conversation with him, I completely had her in mind but then we started talking and so it went…he worked at the museum during the renovations, teaching interested donors about the art to be exhibited. He's a writer who finds the art adds something to his writing, he could salsa his ass off and he was a tall, handsome Latino; I figured I had met someone at this place. I wasn't letting myself down on my pact. YIPPIE!! Soon the main lights came on, the bar was closing, it was time to get going and I was waiting for the 'Oh, here's my number' line. All I got was 'great talking to you and hopefully I'll see you Saturday.'
Sure when he mentioned that he was going to be there Saturday for the 'real' opening, I made mention that Carrao had mentioned it to me and that we'd probably be there but you can't depend on that. Which of course leads to the 'he's just not into you' train of thought and well, here I am replaying the nights events and over analyzing it. What could I have done differently, said differently, worn differently? Who knows.
I was out on a night that's thirty-eight degrees, with heeled boots that made my feet kill me without getting a number (or having given it out). So this is how all those teenage boys felt way back when….good to know. And now that I'm sitting here in sweats, snacking on brie, crackers and prunes I'm guessing it's time to re-analyze the ease and at home comfort of on-line dating?