Dating By Numbers
I want to escape. (Bathroom? Friend in need? New drink? Think, damnit, think!) Too late: “So… Can I get your number?”
“Sure!” I chirp, the frequency of my voice damaging to dogs’ ears.
(12) The number of times I’ve given the wrong number to a boy. (43) The number of times I’ve wished I’d given the wrong number to a boy. (117) The number of boys’ phone calls I have completely ignored. (254) The number of boys phone calls I’ve wished I’d ignored. (27) The number of times I’ve purged a boy’s phone number from my cell phone. (11) The number of times I had already purged said boy’s number.
(2) The number of boys I’ve dated who were roommates. (5) The number of co-workers I’ve dated. (1) …I dated my boss. (3) The number of blind dates I’ve been on. (11) The number of painfully bad dates I’ve been on. (1) The time my date was high. (1) The time my date offered me four different fake ID’s under the table. (1) The time my date managed to ask if I was lying on three different occasions in the same evening.
(2) The number of times a boy has expressed his feelings for me on IM. (1) A boy’s friend has expressed said boy’s feelings for me on IM. (1) A boy has said, “I can’t be responsible for your feelings.” (2) A boy has said, “I just can’t be in a relationship right now.” (3) “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” (1) “I’m not the man you think I am.”
(6) The number of times I’ve used the above excuses myself (… except for that last one).
The number of times I’ve felt lonely? Of course, there have been moments. Although a serial dater, I am human. I just couldn’t think of a name for this new alternate persona I’ve taken on. So Gritz kindly and creatively summed up how those in relationships view the dating by naming me LonelyGrad15. Feel free to suggest something else. Perhaps a name that conveys my overwhelming beauty, wit, charm, humor, and strong-willed, independent spirit?
(17) The number of good first dates I’ve been on. Did all of these dates turn into meaningful, passionate relationships? No, of course not. Ultimately, they served as further fodder to discuss the mysteries of love, or to muse on how confusing it is to meet someone and think you have a deep soulful connection, only to determine later that the wine at dinner was just really good. But the wine was really good, and so was the conversation.
My number? That I’ll let you guess.
Writer’s Note: Numbers have been calculated loosely and/or altered to protect my integrity (i.e., to give the impression that I am neither heartless, nor lame).