Sex and the seedy

Just reflecting on all things fleshly and hormonal (still) and musing about *dating* in this day and age. Went out to drinks with some people I’m doing a course with, and we had quite a fun time drinking red wine in a beer garden till late on a school night. Of course, I was the only one with school (‘school’; read work) the next day, oops. Never was so great at self restraint. Add it to the vice tally. Anyway, our tutor told us about a date she went on over the weekend; we were all terribly excited for her and demanded details, some of which we heard and others (what did she wear?? did they make wild passionate love and whisper sweet nothings??) I am left not knowing. We all started musing on the notion of dating, our experience of dating, and our current situations. I found myself having trouble even coming up with a coherent story. Others said things like ‘I was always too shy to ask girls on dates, this last date was the best I’d ever been on, and we’d known each other for about 2 months first. Two hours in and we were still laughing, we’ve been seeing each other ever since.’ Another said ‘I’ve been going through a dry patch – been in the desert, but I’m back in now. Bring on some action!’. Another said ‘Here here! I haven’t had a serious girlfriend for years, and I want to start dating again. All the decent girls I meet are taken though.’ I nodded and frowned sympathetically and laughed and drank more wine and thought…

Thought….

‘I accidentally got hooked up early when I was really still a teenager and then when that early relationship died years and years later I was heartbroken and for ages didn’t really want to try again.’ Oops, not that.

‘I went through a shagging strangers and people I didn’t like that much phase – partly because I thought it was an important developmental stage that I’d missed. It was overrated.’ Oh. Probably not cool.

How about…‘The last man I clearly and unambiguously dated (and got to know through dating him, albeit briefly) bred novelty Pomeranians and sneezed a lot, drank Italian wine that sounds like a racing car and thought we were a great match. I got creepy skin just thinking about us settling down.’ Oh Goddess – makes me sound like a total bitch. [Erm, I’m not, right?]

Or… ‘I seem to be very bad at telling where friend ends and lover starts – like the boundary is less a defined and well-kempt fence and more an insinuated, vaguely overgrown patch with glimpses of fence but no-one really remembers where the fence is and isn’t and one minute you’re safely in one garden and then, you experience a strange yearning to extend your range and the next, accidentally, you’ve slipped through and find yourself on the other side, and you can slip back just as quickly. Or you slip back and the person you were standing there talking to doesn’t, and you find yourself positioned rather awkwardly with the fence between you trying to still converse but words don’t come out. Sometimes you can’t see them at all and you wonder if you were really ever here with anyone other than yourself and the garden is very overgrown and you feel all Alice in Wonderlandy, tropical hot and confused and a little bit lost.’

Could I have said ‘You know, I just don’t know, this whole having to talk to people you don’t know and make an effort and risk wasting good knitting time nodding about their family woes and work stories at a starchy white clothed table or risking having a wild crush on someone not interested back, or some guess work based tete-a-tete with a kind of friend kind of maybe lover is really quite excruciating, and quite frankly I know I’m a bit odd, you know, have an odd mix of interests, and can be quite unbending in my values and really, I’m not that sure there’s someone out there who I’d go with, and anyway, I’ve entered the terrain of the early thirties, and am no spring chicken anymore, and, you know, that changes things, and um, I’m just not sure about internet dating, after all I get too many emails as it is and don’t think I’d be good at remembering to reply, and really, what if I got all nervous and couldn’t pick something to wear, and got there late, and then got riotously drunk because I was shy and was sipping wine to avoid saying all the stupid things that come into my head, and what if we had sex anyway and it was awful and awkward and we felt like we had to just to make all those emails and boring conversation worthwhile, but really we knew it was just never going to turn into anything much of note, and actually if I don’t do online dating how the hell will I meet someone unless they are someone from the fruit delivery company to the office, or someone who bursts into my lounge room unexpectedly one Saturday evening, or some fellow patron sitting next to me in some random play/movie/book launch who magically manages to spark up witty banter and not come across as a creepy stalker, or someone buying tofu at the independent grocers and our hands magically connect, triggering vegetarian sparks of chemistry to the surprise of the late evening shelf stackers? And really, how likely is that?’. But I didn’t say that.

I just smiled and said ‘oh yes, dating’.