My therapist says I should take a break from the dating scene and “date myself.” You all won’t shut up about it. Here’s why I won’t do it.
Dating is fun.
How often do you get greeted by a naked stranger? Almost never, if you’re not dating. But if you’re me, you get to do this on a first date when you show up to get him.
Have you ever been told you have dick-sucking lips? I got told this twice in two weeks. So complimentary.
Do you want someone to show you his Jacob’s Ladder while you’re outside a bar having a cigarette? Dating is for you!
What was your most interesting text message this week? Mine read simply, “I just wanted my salad tossed.”
You have to date to live this exciting salad-tossing life.
I am a serial monogamist.
I’ll date and date and date and find someone to be in a relationship with. It’s going to happen eventually, so suck it.
I like being in relationships. All things being equal, I’d rather be in a relationship with someone who’s qualified to be in one with me than be single.
I like to share a bed. I like to talk about the cute dogs I saw today/”Dexter”/why St. Louis is my second favorite filthy dirty crime-ridden city. I like to have frequent and mind-blowing sex that only comes when I trust someone enough to choke me out. So, why not a relationship?
I’m poor.
Even the most fucktarded OkCupid date will usually buy me a dollar beer or nine. I’m like a courtesan: buy me booze and I will be charming and entertaining and probably loud and funny. So, kind of like a geisha.
Only less giggling. And possibly more drunk hookups. Still the red lipstick, though. DSLs and all that.
I’m much smarter than you are.
Listen, I know all the reasons I shouldn’t date. Shit, I’m not even divorced a year. But I know better than you and won’t make the mistakes you did.
Except when I do, and then don’t you all enjoy telling me “I told you so”?
