Trying to find love in the middle of a pandemic just lessened my already dismal odds by about eight-five percent (and that is probably generous). Which is why I’m not going to even bother. In the beginning of the quarantine, if you remember, I did meet a guy online who I thought had some real potential but when push came to shove and I wasn’t willing to be his quarantine hook up he went ghost. Guess he found someone who was willing to swap corona spit with when I wouldn’t. I’m not going to lie, that stung a little bit because I felt a real connection with him.
I guess I’m getting really good at rejection because I got right back on the hamster wheel of online dating a month later. I don’t know why I keep getting on the hamster wheel expecting it to go somewhere. I guess it’s like the pea brain little hamster having nothing better to do but hop on the damn wheel to get in some cardio. Sometimes I find myself a little wine drunk and lonely, suddenly that stupid Bumble app senses the cobwebs forming in my lady parts and sends me a notification that 15 bees want to meet me. Just like that, I’m drawn to the hive, like all the other suckers seduced by the sweet taste of honey.
I did meet a “nice” guy, who was tall and handsome but let’s just say he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. I told myself to be open to dating someone who perhaps didn’t have a great career or a college degree but could possibly make me very happy. He asked me out on a date and although it was not the strangest date I have been on it was definitely up there in the top five.
If you read my blog regularly, you’ll remember the guy who took me on a date to the 99 Restaurant (pre-Covid). Tragic error on his part—anyway, if you recall he told me he talks to dead people. Actually, now that I think about it, I do recall he said something big was going to happen to the world and everything would change. Could he have been talking about a global pandemic? Come to think of it, he actually sounded like one of those crazy QAnon conspiracy theorist saying Trump was going to be re-elected to save us from the satanic democrats. Dear God, let’s hope he isn’t really psychic and just mentally imbalanced. If you are new to my blog and you want to get an idea of the shit show of a dating life I have, search the title “Before and After: Part II &II” to read just one of the many dating disaster stories.
I’m starting to really wonder why I attract so many weirdo’s. Is my picker off? Do I have a sign on my forehead saying, “Good mentally stable men need not apply”? Is this just the right of passage all of us must suffer through in order to find our soulmate? I’m hoping it’s just a test to remind us how precious love is and how hard it is to find someone you can tolerate for the rest of your life.
Back to my socially distanced date night. This “nice” guy asks me on a date and decides to take me to Texas Road House. Those that know me know that I can be a boujee bitch and my idea of a first date is not the chain restaurant that we use to take my kids to on their birthday so that we could publicly humiliate them when they had to ride the saddle while the wait staff sang the happy birthday song. Granted, the floor is no longer covered in peanut shells because now they realize how unsanitary sharing barrel of peanuts with a group of strangers can be. That said it is a step up from the 99 Restaurant I suppose.
We met outside wearing masks, which made it nearly impossible to recognize your date from a dating profile pic. As I approached him anxious about whether I should just elbow bump this guy or do we hug like a normal greeting on a date. Surely, a hug with a mask on is safer than a handshake. How insulting it would be to take out your hand sanitizer after touching them. These are the crazy things you think about when you go on a date now. Which makes a first date even more nerve racking. I’m not as “Covid sensitive” as some people are where they don’t want to leave their house and sanitized every surface they touch but I am sensitive to the people that have health conditions and don’t want to make them uncomfortable. He did end up greeting me with a hug. After all, if you’re willing to go out on a date I assume you are open to eventually touching this person. I don’t think I would casually swap spit with anyone these days but eventually you have to rip off the band aid I guess.
The date started with him talking about his dogs…a lot..and it basically ended with him talking about his dogs a lot. Listen, I get it. I love dogs too but they are not the topic of first date conversation the entire night. Granted he has two beautiful big Saint Bernard’s that are the only children he’s ever had but I don’t even talk about my human children that much. He did insert some information about his family and his disabled sister that lives with him. I thought it was honorable that he helps care for her. He then told me that he has to be careful about contracting the virus because he has a heart condition. Apparently, he had collapsed twice before he had an LVAD surgically implanted 20 years ago. He even showed me the scar and asked me if I wanted to feel it embedded in his skin. I made a joke calling him Iron Man after I touched the square device that protruded from his chest. I was trying not to react all weird but inside I’m thinking why the hell is this guy out at Texas Road House eating a rib-eye steak downing beers if he has a damn heart condition during a pandemic! Perhaps when you’ve been faced death like that you just figure F’it…live and let live!
Needless to say, there wasn’t any chemistry there. When I find myself looking at my watch wanting to end the date, it’s never a good sign. The conversation just wasn’t stimulating for me and apparently that is more important to me than I thought. I truly am a sapiosexual and need my partner to be able to stimulate my mind not just my lady parts. When I’m bored to tears wondering what my life would be like dating this handsome sensitive man sitting on the couch with two Saint Bernard’s between us worried about whether his ticker is still ticking—I come to realize right then and there he is not the one. We ended the date with an awkward hug and the texts slowly faded like all the rest.
That was the last date I was on and I haven’t picked up the Bumble crack pipe since. When I do go out to restaurants with friends, it’s impossible to mingle and flirt with cute guys from six-feet away wearing a mask so what’s the point in trying. I don’t want to say I’ve given up on dating but maybe 2020 is cursed and my hope that it was the year I would finally find love is at best a long shot. Perhaps it’s best to just wait it out and see what next year brings. After all love in the time of Corona doesn’t sound like the love story I want to share with my grandkids someday. I’ll just wait for love whenever it decides to show up and continue to work on loving myself in the meantime.