I Hate Rom Coms

I just want to go home.

It’s Saturday night and I’m standing in front of a restaurant. Waiting. The cold wind rips through me. Yeah, I’m wearing a coat, but I’m still shivering.

We were supposed to meet at seven.  It’s like 7:10. How long do I have to wait? Am I being overly dramatic?  Will she show up?  Or did she not want to do this either?

It’s not that I’m not a little excited to go out with her.  Honestly, she’s a little out of my league in the looks department.  She’s like a 7 and I’m probably a 4 and a half.  Wait, is 7 good or average? I never really understood the numbers system.

Honestly, I never really understood anything involving dating. Or women.

I met this girl in a brewery. She’s got what I used to call the “Hippie Shay” before I found out the song I was referring to is actually called “The Hippie Shakes”. Anyway, we were in this brewery hanging out. She was sitting at the table across from us, enjoying an IPA. Or so she told me.  I don’t drink beer, but my friend does.  He was the one who started talking to her.  Craft beer people are a special kind of nerd club and I was just there to tag along. Still, I made awkward, goofy jokes in an effort to seem sociable.  I’m not sure why she agreed to go out with me.

Maybe she was just pranki… Oh, wait. there she is. 

On the one hand, I’m relieved that she didn’t stand me up. On the other hand, I’m nervous as hell, because now I have to remember how to act like a human.

She waves at me with a big smile as she walks up.  God, she looks great.  Long black hair.  Pretty smile. Big boobs.  She’s definitely my type.  Fuck! What am I doing here??

We share an awkward hug; the one where I kind of lean in, because I don’t want her to think I’m trying to rub up against her tits.

She apologizes for being late.  I pretend not to care, but we both know it’s bullshit.  Men hate waiting for women.  We have no idea what ladies do or why it takes them so damn long to do it.

Looking at her, I still don’t understand what took so long.  Don’t get me wrong, she looks hot as the fires of damnation.  But she’s just in a Guns n Roses t-shirt, leather jacket  and jeans.  Then again, as tight as those jeans are, she must have had them hand-sewn onto her.   I wonder if she’ll fuck me?

I hold the door for her and she thanks me.  The gentleman instincts are hard-wired into me, even as I’m picturing her bent over the table of this very nice restaurant.

I should never have picked this place.  Looking at the menu, this is going to cost me.  But it's a first date and I wanted to make a good impression.  I don’t think it’s working.

We’re chatting about nothing.  Oh god, she’s bringing up the Marvel movies.  We’re 10 minutes in and all we can think to discuss is stupid comic book movies.  That’s not a good sign.

Maybe I’m trying too hard. She’s dressed as casual as can be.  Meanwhile– like an idiot, I wore a blazer.  I showed up early and she just strolled in when she felt like it.  And she insisted on meeting me here.  At first I thought it was just because she didn’t know me and was being cautious.  But maybe she just wanted to make a quick exit instead of having me take her home.  Oh God, is this a pity date??

Alright. I’m overreacting.  She’s laughing at my jokes.  Maybe it’s going better than I think.

I have no idea.  I hate doing this.

The thing is, I don’t want to date anyone. I just want to be in a relationship. I want to meet someone that I find attractive and say “ look, do we have the same values? Do we enjoy the same things? Fine. Done. We’re in a relationship. Now let’s go to bed.”

That’s the part I miss the most.  Not the sex… well, okay, yeah. I miss sex.  God, I miss sex. Oh man, it would be great if I could fuck her.   Hell, I would even take an Old Fashioned out of sympathy.  I can imagine it now.  “No, I don’t think I can see you again. But you did spend a lot of money… how about a handjob?” 

Anyway.  Even more than sex, I miss just being with someone.  I miss that moment in the middle of the night when you wake up because she’s been sleeping on your arm and now your arm is numb and you think about moving it, but you don’t. You don’t. Because you see her there, her hair in a mess, having pulled the covers almost completely off of you and onto her, and you think “God, she’s so beautiful.”

Is that what’s going to happen here?  Are we hitting it off? Or maybe just tolerating each other enough to think, “screw it. I could do worse. Why not make a few mistakes and get sloppy?”  Will I wake up with her naked in my arms and feel at home? Or will I fake having to go to the bathroom and leave the door open so she’ll wake up and leave?

…God, I hate dating.

There’s nothing wrong with this girl.  Physically, I find her very attractive.  She seems reasonably bright.  Has a sense of humor.  She hasn’t even made some stupid new age babble comment about “the Patriarchy” or Capitalism.

There isn’t anything wrong with this girl.  But as the night goes on, I just keep thinking…

There’s nothing right about her either.  I’m sitting here wondering if she’s into me. But am I even into her? Or am I just lonely?

It’s the complexity of human interpersonal dynamics.  Two people can be perfectly suitable on paper.  But sometimes… it’s either there or it isn’t.

Maybe it’s pheromones.  Maybe it’s just years of romantic fiction and rom coms.  It’s listening to  tales from your Grandfather who beat up a guy in a USO bar in World War 2 because he saw your Grandmother’s eyes from across the room and just knew he was going to marry her. There’s something in us that believes that when you meet the right person, you just know.

But as I think about it, it’s been like that with every girl I ever really liked.  With my high school crush, I remember turning around and seeing her face one day and it felt like I was in a movie.  Everything was in stereo.  I chased her around like a weird little puppy for 2 years. 

I met my first love on orientation day for college. Later she came to my 18th birthday party. Hell of a night. I barely knew her, but there was something about her. Back then I was too young to know what it was.  At the end of the night, before she left, she told me she wanted to wish me a happy birthday.  To my surprise she leaned in, rubbing up against me, and slowly kissed me on the cheek. I could feel her lips and a bit of tongue on my skin. What can I say? I was smitten.  I was hers forever after that. No, really.  All these years later, I still am.

Women think men just want to fuck.  Yeah, sure. I wanted to get into her pants immediately, but that’s not all we want.  Not all of us anyway.  When you meet the right girl, it makes you wish you were a better man.

It doesn’t always work out. But when you have someone that important to you, it's like the first time you do hard drugs. You’re constantly trying to chase that first high.

You meet other girls. Some you really like.  And you compare all of them to that first high. And while it feels really good, it just doesn’t have that same fire that she had.

Then one day, you become convinced it will never happen again. But you still can’t accept it, because that love drug is still in your veins.  Sometimes at night, you stare at your phone and think about calling your dealer. But unlike real dealers, she probably won’t take your call.

But you keep chasing it.

And here we are, chasing that dragon.  We’ve both spent the last hour playing everyone’s least favorite game, “Hide Your Crazy Until it's Too Late for this Fool”.

After I pay the check, we walk outside. It’s raining.  We stand underneath the awning to keep dry as I try to figure out my next move.  There’s a pub next door.  Do I ask her for after-dinner drinks?  Do I run to my car and offer to take her home? I can’t read this chick.

UGH.  Screw it.

And so I kiss her. She resists at first, but then decides it isn’t that bad.. I reach my right hand down and squeeze her ass. It's pretty round and I decide to use both hands, lifting her up and into me. All resistance is gone and she seems to be into it.  Am I using too much tongue?  No, that’s good. Damn.

After a minute I put her down.  The ball is in her court.  Yes, I was weird and awkward and I don’t know if we have anything in common besides a physical attraction.  So what’s it gonna be?

There’s a pause as she gets her bearings.  I don’t think she thought I had that in me. Hell, neither did I.  Finally, she shrugs.  “Do you want to give me a ride?”

Fuck it.  It’s a good night for some sloppy mistakes.