Monday, June 16, 2008

Saddle Sores

First dates blow.  

I think this even though I can't ever recall having a truly bad first date.  Sure, I've had some dates that were mildly awkward and I felt relief when there was no kiss attempt or plans for a second date.  And I've certainly gone on dates where the guy wasn't nearly as tall or slender as he had led me to believe, resulting in me spending an entire evening hoping that nobody I knew would see me eating dinner with a hobbit.  But, three things save me from suffering bad dates:  1) I really like to hear myself talk; 2) talking about myself is one of my favorite hobbies and 3) I'm truly freaking interesting.  So, as long as the boy is paying some sort of attention to me, smiling, nodding and feeding me a beer every once in a while, I'm in really good shape.  But, that can leave me wondering whether I enjoyed his company, or just enjoyed having an audience to tell stories to.

You may have guessed that I jumped back into the proverbial saddle this weekend.  I wouldn't call it spectacular by any means, but it was ok.  The first guy I date after BB is screwed, and not in the good way.  New guy is outdoorsy and athletic, but lives kinda far away, which might actually work in my favor.  Or his favor, really.  Let's not kid ourselves here, I'm probably not the catch I think I am.  He's not really my physical type - he's shorter and slender and I tend to like my men big, fat and hairy (why, I will never know...)  We had a couple discussions that were not really first date material, like gun control and problems with the judiciary system, but I gotta give the kid props, because not many people make it out alive when I start jawing about political issues.  

But, without exception there is something that holds me back on first dates.  And I hate that.  I am the girl who isn't afraid to say what's on her mind, or put things in a blunt way, or to curse like a sailor, but I don't feel free to do that on a first date.  Or even on a second date sometimes.  Starting over every few months is getting old, and hearing myself explain for the 30th time why I'm a vegetarian, or how I started kayaking, or how I set my bed on fire in college is also getting old.  I'm getting so practiced at them I feel like I could do a one-woman show.  My own dinner theater!  I may have hit upon a new dating strategy... 

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