As a glamorous, perpetually harried, and extremely single
career woman, I am acutely aware of the fact that I’m not going to meet the
long-term romantic partner I’m looking for unless I put myself out there.
Which is why, usually, I do. I’m on three different dating apps.
Every reasonably close friend whose judgment I trust is on the lookout for
potential prospects. At least twice a week for the past six months, no
matter how tired or pressed for time I’ve been, I have fixed my hair, put on my
lipstick and heels, and met a man for a drink.
I am oddly
proud of the effort I’ve made, despite the fact that it has yet to have yielded
tangible results. I have many female friends who are also glamorous,
perpetually harried, and extremely single. Many of them want to find
someone, but believe apps to be desperate and contrived. (They are.
So what?) These women have a vague fantasy of meeting someone
through friends, but all their friends are either married – and
friends with other married people – or other single women who are looking for
the same thing. So these idealistic friends of mine are left complaining
about being single and simultaneously doing nothing to change that.
Participation in a romantic partnership does
not determine the success of anyone’s life, male or female. There are
many unhappily partnered people and many blissfully single ones, and the last
thing I want to do is imply that being single is a problem or a flaw. All
I’m saying is that if you want something, you have to set yourself up to
possibly get it. As I see it, even a bad date is an
opportunity to learn about myself. And by dating all the time,
I’m able to maintain perspective and prevent myself from getting my heart set
on one particular guy before it’s clear he’s worth it.
But in the
past few weeks, something’s changed for me. Yes, I do have a huge work
deadline at the end of month, which has rendered me temporarily incapable of
even thinking of anything else. Yet even more than that, I find that I
have temporarily lost interest in dating at all. This is my dating
sabbatical, and it’s awesome.
The last date I went on ended when the guy said, “You have such
beautiful hair. I can’t wait to pull it while I do you doggy
style.” (To be fair, I met him in a bar – and if I’d been able to read
his profile on one of my apps, I wouldn’t have wasted thathour of my life.) I didn’t feel threatened or unsafe; I simply told him
that the night was over and that he should definitely take an etiquette class
before dating anyone else. “Also,” I told him, “Never, under any
circumstances, use the words doggy style.”
Even a month
ago, I would have loved telling this story at brunch. I would have
mimicked the guy’s voice, his crushed expression when I told him off, his sad,
mumbled, “Sorry.” I would have delighted in my girlfriends’ riffs and
responses, and our mimosa-drunk theorizing about what kind of person would even
say such a thing.
Dating
requires a healthy sense of humor and a genuine curiosity about other
people. Right now, I have neither. It’s not that I’m bitter – I
can’t even muster the energy to be indignant about my last date. I’m just
completely apathetic.
It’s battle
fatigue. The sheer number of dates I’ve been on recently is staggering,
and most of them have been completely forgettable. Again, I will defend
dating in volume until my dying breath. But the other side of this
practice, I think, is taking a break.
Many men are
extremely boring. Many are Libertarians. Many think they are
intellectuals because since college they have read a single book, and it is by
Charles Bukowski. These are all deal breakers – at least to me – but
nobody’s perfect, and the point of dating is to get to know someone. Most
people, thank God, are not as aggressively extroverted as I am; they open up
slowly, over time. And right now, I don’t have the patience to see that
through.
Here is a short life of things I’d rather be doing than dating:
drinking wine with my friends, finishing the novel I can’t put down, playing hide-and-seekwith my cats. So I’m sticking with that. I’m also taking time to
learn more about myself, to discover new hobbies and places and people who help
me grow. When I decide to start dating again – which sooner or later, I
know I will – I will be even more myself, and maybe even open to dating someone
I might have dismissed out of hand before (as long as he’s not a
Libertarian). I’ll be capable of being a thoughtful and receptive
partner, and hopefully, I’ll be better able to discern who can offer me the
same.
The point of
a sabbatical is that it’s not forever. In dating, as in all things, it’s
important to be honest with yourself about your hopes and goals. So I
encourage you to do everything on purpose, as a conscious choice. If you
want to date, date, and don’t want for someone else to make it happen for
you. And if you want to take a step back, then go on with your bad self.