I'm sure guys get this too. . . you finally meet that great girl (or guy), and you are on your first date - and you realize WTF am I doing here, and how do I get out of here ASAP?! Obviously he or she didn't look like Mr. Pyscho in the picture over there, otherwise you wouldn't have made it to this first date. . . but that got me thinking, where are all the normal people in this world of "so many people"?!Gray* went on another date from her dating website recently, and didn't even know the guy's real name. She did, however find it out, not through the conventional way, but with the dude speaking in third person (Anyone remember Jimmy D from Millionare Matchmaker?). It's normal for a guy in LA to have an ego, but really?! I thought that talking in third person was made for bad reality tv. What do I know, right?
Along with Gray's unfortunate dating experience, I also got flashbacks of a friend, Ali* who used to drag me along as her "chaperone" when she would meet up with the random guys she meet on the dating website she was using. Maybe the free part should have tipped her off, but relentlessly, she met up with guy after guy, and I, even unwillingly, went - if not scared for her safety. One of the first guys we met was semi-ok. . . tall, skinny, totally her type. He actually was brave enough to meet up with me, Ali and a few other girlfriends. . . but then wanted to take Ali away so they could have some "private time" - uh. Let me think about that. . . let my friend drive off in some random dude's car? I think not. Oh yeah. And while we were all together in a group, he kept trying to talk to another one of the girls in the group. Can we say douche?
Then there was Billy*, the totally rocker dude who looked like a hottie in his profile, seemed intelligent, and was hapa (part asian and part something else). . . not so much her type, but the guy had muscles. Billy met us up after a night out at a diner. He finally shows up, and he is greaser to the max - SOOO not her type. Supposedly doesn't drink, do drugs, and is "straight-edge", but homeboy is twitching like he's getting electrocuted, and his eyes were moving around like those googly eyes you use for arts and crafts. Straight-edge my butt. We 86'd this fellow asap, and of course, he tries telling me to let him have some time with her - Um. NO WAY DUDE. I tell her to watch her back, don't let him follow her home, and text me when she gets home. He texts her: I hope you get home safe. . . That's sane enough, right? I hope you don't crash or anything bad Yikes. If that's not bad enough, several days later, he texts her to give him "her hot friend's number" - that's me. HELL NO.
So when someone tells me that there are "plenty of fish in the sea", I want to challenge them to find me one that is compatible with me, won't kill me or abuse me (emotionally or physically), can carry a decent conversation, has an education (at least his h.s. diploma!), a job, not living with his parents, doesn't have emotional baggage, has some sense of fashion, won't lie, beg, cheat or steal, and has THAT CONNECTION WITH ME. . . oh yeah, and actually wants to be with ME. And I'd like to be attracted to the guy please.
It's no wonder, if you're living in LA, and you're single that there are many, many reasons for that. But if everyone else is unstable, and you are not, my thoughts are, what is wrong with you?
* Names changed to protect the innocent and the guilty
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