It has recently come to my attention that I am undateable.
I’m not really sure when this happened, and I’m also not really sure when I started to care.
Ok, so the first part isn’t exactly true.
And really, neither is the second.
I know the when, the why, the how, the where.
It’s that whole “what to do about it…” part I haven’t quite gotten to yet.
Here’s the thing, Chronic friends.
I am not lonely, promise.
Except I might get just a little teensy bit of a lonely-like feeling every other Friday night, most holidays, and the first Wednesday of the month when it is buy one, get one burger night <somewhere>
But really, not lonely, mmkay?
I used to like dating.
I also used to like sitting in the sun, doing upside down yoga positions, and eating bacon.
Sometimes the things you like just don’t like you, you know?
For the past, I don’t know, 10 (!!!!) years, dating has just not been on my radar.
I was kind of busy trying to um, stay upright/conscious/alive.
I know, excuses, excuses.
But my life is super different-ish now; I’m rapidly approaching being faint/hemiplegia-free for 2 years, I’m employed, my mom isn’t my roommate any more, etc. I’ve got a bunch of things to look forward to that aren’t washing my hair once a week or walking the dog to the mailbox every day. (Totally legit things that I still continue to celebrate and do more frequently-at least in the case of washing my hair!) I’ve been busy-busy more than I’ve been Chronic busy.
So you might have heard that it’s Valentine’s Day on Sunday, and that it’s my 27th (shhh! #DontTellTheOtherBloggers #ImOlderThan #Everyone) birthday exactly one week afterwards…
Nothing like a one-two punch to make a girl wonder about her prospects.
There are very specific times when I feel like Rip Van Winkle waking up from a 100 years’ nap only to find that the world is a crazy, weirdo place now and I want to go back to sleep.
Dating makes me feel like this.
First off, as a Chronic Lady who has been in Chronic hibernation/Rip Van Winkle sleep for her early 20s (because as a friend and I recently figured out, I am one-week out from being in my “late” 20s-thinking of you, early 30s friend!), I seem to have missed the window where you go on 29 first dates and have 3 week-long relationships with your college Chem lab partner that dissolve in a fiery mess that means that you can no longer go to the Taco Bell on campus because he might be there. All that junk stuff where you figure it out- I seem to have missed that lovely learning curve.
Nope, late 20s is the part where (according to Society and the Powers That Be), one discovers The One, and fills up everyone else’s Facebook feeds with engagement photos, wedding photos, baby photos, first home photos, first dog photos, romantic get-away trip photos, and even the occasional divorce memo.
I am going to be really selfish and self-centered for 5 seconds and say I cannot BELIEVE that there are people my age who are DIVORCED and I have not even been on a DATE, ohmygosh PANIC ATTACK about my PLACE in the SOCIETY-MEASURED RAT RACE.
I’m ok now.
It’s not that I have not had opportunity.
Truth time: I did have a kind of opportunity, and I kind of blew it.
First off, timing was horrible.
Do not try to figure out your first date in a decade when you are trying to move out for the first time, pass a final exam for a never-ending career training program so that you can get your first job so you can pay your first bills and be a grownup, also for the first time.
You simply have too much going on, and while the Internet will tell you that loads of people have online relationships for months and even years where they never actually see each other in person, it’s not actually true. The person who wants to date you will actually want to go out on a date at some point. #WayToMakeEverythingHarder #WhatsSoGreatAboutADate
Which comes to the Chronic part.
How do Chronic people date?
No really, I’m asking.
That wasn’t a lead-in to my epically enlightened answer. It was a question that I’m really hoping you’ll read as endearing and not kind of sad. Oh, and that you’ll answer.
I get so nosey when I meet Chronic people in relationships. I become the most annoying journalist. “Where did you meet?” “Where is that?” “Did you wear your compression stockings?” “Did he notice them?” “What did you say?” “No, like really, word for word, what did you say?”
I don’t go to movies (unless they are at 10 am at the one theater I like and I wear earplugs and fidget like a 1st grader who has to pee) and I don’t go to restaurants (I do not want to die a slow stomach churning death with an audience, especially one I don’t know well). I can’t really go to museums (who knew they could so drastically change the humidity from one room to the next to keep works of art young and vibrant whilst keeping the young and vibrant dizzy, sweaty and nauseous?) and I mostly avoid the outdoors between sunup and sundown. Then I avoid going out at night because I’m tired and have night blindness #ItsARealThing I don’t drink caffeine or tea or alcohol (they are all diuretics, like I’d need the help…). Mostly, if it’s fun, I’m pretty sure I have a reason I can’t do it.
Undateable, you see?
On the other hand, I am really good at making soda pop pound cakes. I have an outdoor firepit and an indoor tabletop safety flame fire pit for making s’mores. (Yes, I have both. I really like s’mores.) I like the comic book store and the library. I like to Netflix and I like to chill. Separately, you perv.
Perhaps, just maybe, I am not quite as undateable as I think?
Are you in a relationship, Chronic friend? Do you go out on dates? Tell me all about it. I mean it. Like, everything. Have you written a manual? Could you?
Happy Valentine’s Day, lovelies! ❤