Every few years I shake off the dust of my comfortable single life and decide I am optimistic enough to give it another try. After all there are more sites and apps than ever before; so this time should be different right? (This is the part where you nod and say, 'Absolutely!') If it seems I need reassurance, I do.
The last heavy dating phase I had was several years ago when I threw myself into it, much like an athlete in training. The game plan was as follows:
Compile pithy, charming profile with pictures that look completely spontaneous. ✔
Get stylist for outfits that seem to be effortlessly thrown together. ✔
Spend hours pouring over articles on dating do’s and don’ts. ✔
Paid subscription to background check website. ✔
Get in a few months of therapy for good measure. ✔
I was off and running, or dating that is. My friends and family, ever hopeful I would find someone special, eagerly awaited an update after each new date. So with their help I devised a simplified texting system to let them know the status of a date and also use it as a 'safety’ code. Since everyone knew what a wine lover I was, it seemed logical to use varietals.
Cabernet Sauvignon – great date with lots of potential.
Sauvignon Blanc – good date, lots of fun, would go out with him again.
Chardonnay – it was the only thing being served so I had a glass.
Merlot – no way, never again, #getmeoutofhere.
I was following the advice of all those articles; and listening to encouragement from friends. But like so many of us, the longer I dated, the more it seemed like a chore. Eventually I agreed to a blind date set up by my mom and her friend’s son. I think she was more excited than I was so I called to tell her the date was set. Before hanging up Mom nonchalantly added that he was blind in one eye. Now don’t get me wrong, being blind didn’t automatically dismiss that I would date him. However, his telling me in detail over appetizers about the accidental self-inflicted knife slip is where I drew the line. As I sat in the restaurant listening to him recount his story, I was thinking this would classify as a MERLOT, MERLOT, MERLOT date.
Fast forward five years and a few more unsuccessful dating experiences and I find myself ready to try again. But with a new perspective I didn’t have before. I realize there’s a good chance I was somebody’s ‘date gone wrong’ story. So I won’t look for what’s wrong with him, but what we have in common. Or what he does for a living, but how he lives his life.
The one caveat going forth is he is a wine lover and good news is I’ve come to enjoy a nice glass of Merlot every once in a while.