separate cabs

WTF. Dating sucks.

Okay, so I've been talking about starting this blog for a while; maybe I'm behind the times on this whole blog thing, but I find the need to share with the world (or whoever wants to listen) how much dating fucking sucks -- especially (?) in DC. Like many women in this town, I've gone out on a LOT of first dates, several second dates, a few third dates, maybe one or two 5th dates...and that's where it ends. Because...well, WTF??? I don't know, actually.

DATING SUCKS.

Tonight I had a somewhat sucky, but more just hilarious, end to a first date. This guy I met on OkCupid (a site which, if you haven't tried it is actually kind of fun...it doesn't take itself too seriously which is nice in the whole scheme of online dating sites) finally make plans to meet up for drinks. I'm walking to the bar from work, I see this guy in front of me who I think might be him...of course I'm checking him out (he looks sort of cute) and hoping he doesn't see me and turn it into this whole weird awkward meet-before-we-meet type meeting. Luckily he doesn't see me (or at least doesn't seem to) so we're off to a good start. When we finally get to the bar and meet I decide he's going to be a tool given his half unbuttoned shirt (complete with a dragon and some random stitching), the gelled hair and a liiiiiiitle too much cologne (i'm more of a dive bar girl). But.....my therapist says I should try to notice something good about each person I meet so I give him the benefit of the doubt.

We talk, have a few beers, the conversation starts to go better and better as we loosen up (especially when we talk about our shared semi-hatred of hipsters but love of hipster bars)...we order mussels, start laughing more...and I think, "Okay, okay, I could go out with him again." (To be clear: that's a pretty big deal. Huge, actually. I have very low standards at this point, given I've dated -- get ready -- a holocaust denier. Yes, you heard right. But that's a story for another time.)

It starts to get late, I can tell he's ready to go (and who are we kidding, so am I, I went to the fucking gym at 6am so I could feel good on this goddamn fucking date, and then I fucking worked all day.) So we leave the bar, we're standing on the corner deciding how we're both going to get home in that awkward "Does he want to see me again/Do I want to see him again" moment that happens when you're just not entirely sure. In a buzzed, nervous state, I say "I'm going to get in a cab" and as he gives me a hug I say, "Soooo are you going to get a separate one?"

Aaaahh! Wait! No!

The minute I said it I wanted to take it back. I didn't mean, "Do you want to come home with me?" Seriously. I meant, "Wouldn't it be cheaper for us to take separate cabs because I live in Dupont and you live in Columbia Heights? We should do this again." To be clear: if I was attracted to you, and despite (or maybe because of) the double standard for women, I would have no problem taking you home with me, thank you very much...but instead I said something that made him feel the need to respond, "Um, yeah, I think separate one. I had fun. I'll be in touch."

I wanted to scream, "no, wait, that's not what I meant!" But as I got in the cab, all I could do was laugh. Clearly, his response does not bode well for second date (which I wasn't sure if I wanted anyway), and seems only slightly less horrible than ending a date with a high-five (which my co-workers and I decided earlier today is part of a basic equation where a high five equals NO SEX). But why couldn't I be the one to let him down gently and say, "I had fun, but..." or (let's be honest, this is a more likely scenario) simply not call?

This is why dating sucks.