My second date got scrapped. I was bummed out when I got the e-mail late yesterday afternoon. I was looking forward to seeing this girl again, but I’ve learned that you can’t cry over what can’t be helped. It wasn’t me, which kind of sucks, but I’m glad to know I stood a fighting chance.
I knew this girl by answering her profile in “The Singles Issue” of Time Out – New York. I answered four profiles, and got two responses. I take no shame in admitting that I still indulge in internet dating. It seems like to not do so means that you’ve missed some giant social loop – like if you’ve never been to Disney World or a baseball game. Anyway, I liked her. Our first date was really easy-going and there was a lot of nice chemistry. But, as you may imagine, her being an attractive twentysomething woman in New York City, I wasn’t the only guy she was meeting. So, after one previously cancelled date, the ax fell before we could even get together again. Suffice to say, she was left exhausted by the response of guys, and many of those guys – I can guess – were varying degrees of creepy. She wanted a break, and that’s completely understandable. I can’t begin to tell you some of the dating hangovers I’ve experienced since I moved here. The fact that she was being honest with me was highly appreciated.
As I said, this was a bummer, but whatever, y’know? Look, since I started seeing a therapist last year, I’ve learned I’m never going to fully eradicate that needy emo boy inside of me, but I can certainly teach myself patience and open-mindedness. It just kind of sucks, because – as I mentioned – I liked this girl. I couldn’t help but to hope that maybe it could have gone somewhere. But as I always preach, I believe that the universe watches your back; especially when you’re trying to do the right thing. So, as I walked home from the gym today, listening to Beyonce, I crossed paths with cute post-hipster girl on 6th Avenue in Brooklyn. I check out all women when I can, but I’m always trying to be furtive. This one however didn’t, and we ended up locking eyes for a good thirty seconds – even I walked past her in sweats and a knit cap.
Sure, she’s not walking up to me and handing over her phone number, but I’ll gladly take a prolonged check out stare. Because – when you don’t get upset over the small stuff – you usually see that there’s always more than enough willing options. Somewhere inside of me, the needy emo boy is finally learning a little happiness.