2,000 dates!
Let us return to 1970s television, specifically The Mary Tyler Moore Show. In one episode she determined that she had been going out twice a week, since she was 17, and was then 37, and that she had had, with much dismay, 2,000 dates.
Two or three years post-Croquet Player and many years post-Clover's Companion, I hit up the home-shopping network of dating -- match.com -- whenever I think I should meet someone. I have met someone. And someone else. And someone else. More someone elses than I would care to know. Enough to make me realize men lie as much as women, if not more -- the one advantage to dating in this century is that I have realized I don't lose feminist credibility when I let a man buy dinner for me.
I compare, which would I rather do, go out with a stranger for brunch, drinks or dinner, or stay at home at watch the umpteenth rerun of Law & Order and its offshoots?
Some of those detectives and A.D.As are looking pretty damn good, and sounding quite witty. Should I ever be called as a witness in a murder case, I'm set. I feel qualified to be judge, defense attorney, defendant, prosecutor and/or jury as needed.
I do not feel fit to go on that two-thousand and first date: my last time out, I begged for an early evening because an old friend had called, crying, on my way out the door, because her husband had left her, and I had promised to call her back that night.
Okay, the facts are jumbled. But it took a lot of self-control not to reply to the observation, "You seem kind of distant. Are you worried about your girlfriend?" with the response "she's never been my girlfriend." TMI for a guy I knew I'd never see again. A topic for later introduction. I did, however, mutely agree about my concern -- easier all around, and a faster route home. I said my good-bye and thank you, then hailed a cab and bailed.
At least I left before he had a chance -- shades of a Roseanne episode -- to ask how many people I'd slept with.
And Clover's Companion and I have, after several torturous years, been able to resume our friendship -- so that when Thanksgiving rolls around, I know what I'll be grateful for.
Two or three years post-Croquet Player and many years post-Clover's Companion, I hit up the home-shopping network of dating -- match.com -- whenever I think I should meet someone. I have met someone. And someone else. And someone else. More someone elses than I would care to know. Enough to make me realize men lie as much as women, if not more -- the one advantage to dating in this century is that I have realized I don't lose feminist credibility when I let a man buy dinner for me.
I compare, which would I rather do, go out with a stranger for brunch, drinks or dinner, or stay at home at watch the umpteenth rerun of Law & Order and its offshoots?
Some of those detectives and A.D.As are looking pretty damn good, and sounding quite witty. Should I ever be called as a witness in a murder case, I'm set. I feel qualified to be judge, defense attorney, defendant, prosecutor and/or jury as needed.
I do not feel fit to go on that two-thousand and first date: my last time out, I begged for an early evening because an old friend had called, crying, on my way out the door, because her husband had left her, and I had promised to call her back that night.
Okay, the facts are jumbled. But it took a lot of self-control not to reply to the observation, "You seem kind of distant. Are you worried about your girlfriend?" with the response "she's never been my girlfriend." TMI for a guy I knew I'd never see again. A topic for later introduction. I did, however, mutely agree about my concern -- easier all around, and a faster route home. I said my good-bye and thank you, then hailed a cab and bailed.
At least I left before he had a chance -- shades of a Roseanne episode -- to ask how many people I'd slept with.
And Clover's Companion and I have, after several torturous years, been able to resume our friendship -- so that when Thanksgiving rolls around, I know what I'll be grateful for.
posted by alice, uptown at 8:26 PM
4 Comments:
I used to bemoan the paucity of interesting women whom were available for dating in New York City...but then I realized that women had it FAR worse.
Happy Thanksgiving. Wishing you all the best.
Did you ever try speed dating? I
always wonder if that worked for anyone.
Dating is a such a crapshoot.
I wonder if women can select men from another country to date as men do by going to Russia and other countries?
Post a Comment
<< Home