In the interest of full disclosure, I’m open to alternative relationship styles.
There is one in particular that I’m already fond off. I call it Steven Wright dating and it goes like this…
You match up with someone edgy on the interwebs and somehow a smart, quick line or two gets exchanged. Ooh you think to yourself….it’s a funny guy.
Rule number one. Funny guys need a LOT of room to be funny. That means you gotta go in for the slow burn if you ever want to even make it to hello.
Next thing is that you won’t be sure if the funny guy likes you, is making fun of you, or is just bored with nothing else to do. And don’t bother asking him to clear it up because if you ask, he’ll just say yes.
I got a funny guy right now. We are in about a four to one texting ratio. Don’t ask which one is me. OK I’m the four.
I am pretty certain our first few texts were a bit of a yawn on his end but then I might have accidentally said something that made him snicker in his head. See, the trick is that when you sense sarcasm and the potential to be blown off and laughed at, you throw out something you KNOW is going to produce a shared “me, too.” moment. I sort of do this naturally because I love to be liked, and I have plenty of practice groveling under the radar.
See…as a pediatrician I have to make screaming unhappy three year olds roll over and show me their belly. If I can do it with a toddler, I can sure as hell do it with a man-date.
Ground Zero thinks it’s funny that I am texting people I may never meet. He said, “Don’t you just want to meet them” and I’m like “Maybe”. A good dry-witted texting buddy is a pearl and hard to find. Another date? Well those are everywhere.
Maybe if Trump had a texting buddy he’d stop all that tweeting. Sadly, the world will never find out because he’s not a funny guy and no one wants to hear from him.
There is another kind of texting thing and this one I’m not so fond of. It goes like this….good-looking, usually younger, sweet guy decides after one text that you are having his babies. He clings to this fantasy even after you tell him that you’ve been hysterectomized, are barren, and do NOT want more children. He seems to think that this is a minor detail that can be worked out given the magnitude of the passion he has for you.
You soon realize that this very sweet person is lonely and just needs hope. So you swallow hard and give him hope. You just CAN’T take away his hope, though you do make it clear that you are NOT a match and he must be a brave soldier and look elsewhere for his true-love baby momma. He is so thoughtful and texts you first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Who does that anymore?
You of course panic that he’s a stalker and start talking about how in debt you are, how much all your rashes itch, how you really think brushing teeth is overrated…that sort of thing. He finds it all just super endearing. The only way out is to fake your own death lady dragon-fly style, or drop your phone in the toilet and forget to get it out before you flush.
Part of you is touched. It’s the part of you that the rest of you is kicking in the ass, saying noooooo noooooo you are NOT a princess so quit thinking this is anything but a nightmare in the making. Alternate between wanting to marry him on a white horse and looking up the number to the authorities just incase. Check the Most Wanted list and breathe a sigh of relief that he is not on there.
Finally bite the bullet and tell him you are leaving Monday to become a nun in Poland but that you will think of him often from within the convent walls. Ignore his texts when he asks if he can have just one night before you take your vows. Hum songs from The Sound of Music absent-mindedly the next day and admit to no one, not even yourself that you miss him. Slap yourself, hard.
See what I mean? So text me, maybe.
Datergurl, taking a break from doing the dishes and lolling just a little.