In an admirable “don’t-dish-it-out-if-you-can’t-take-it” display of solidarity, today’s Dating Diaries doesn’t call out the bad behavior of men. Instead, I’m pointing the finger at myself.
Naturally, when you start dating after 20 years of marriage, safety is a top concern. It ranks right up there for me with “convenience.”
So when I started online dating and I got past the “I’m pretty sure you’re not an ax murderer” stage and it was time to meet, I picked a sushi restaurant near my home. I love sushi, it was convenient and I didn’t reveal my address. Win-win-win.
Admittedly, I may have been overly enthusiastic in my early days of dating. For all my exterior snarkiness, I am an extremely trusting and optimistic person. Sure, your headshot on OKCupid may show a man in army fatigues standing by his mud-splattered jeep pretending to deliver a kiss to the cheek of the dead deer he’s holding up to the camera, but who’s to say the heart of a poet doesn’t beat underneath that t-shirt you’ve apparently had and worn since the 10th grade?
You can see, perhaps, why I’m still single.
The point being, there were some weeks where I met people for drinks up to 2-3 times per week. Which didn’t faze me, until it occurred to me to wonder what the hell the waitresses at this restaurant must think of me.
I mean, c’mon. Attractive woman showing up to sit in a booth across from a different guy three times a week? And the same guy never reappearing? SKETCHY.
Once I realized what it must look like, I was too mortified to show my face in there for months. At least until recently, when a group from my office decided to go there for lunch. I figured that was safe.
And it was… until we were all seated and I realized it was three guys and me.