There comes a point in every single woman’s life when she
reflects back on her dating past and starts to wonder why she’s alone. She asks
herself questions like, “Why don’t guys like me?” and “Why am I still single?”
Then she starts to make herself believe things like, “If only I was skinnier
and prettier, guys would like me…” and “I’m never going to get married and have
kids…” and “I’m going to die lonely with my eight cats eating my corpse before
anyone discovers I’m dead.” Am I right? I hear love stories all the time from
friends, relatives and coworkers bragging about how they met “the one,” but
what I don’t often hear are the entertaining stories of the other “ones” that
lead them to that special “one.”
Not so long ago, I had what Oprah might call my “AHA
moment.” The guy I was seeing at the time was tall, dark and handsome. What
more could a girl ask for? We talked on the phone for hours everyday and had this
unbelievable connection where we understood everything about each other, so
much so that he referred to me as the “closest girl in his life, other than his
mom,” almost like a “sister” to him. At that point, a red flag popped up in my
head because no girl in her right mind wants to have a sibling kind of bond
with the guy she is sucking face with, except maybe if you’re from Missouri (Just kidding
y’all, Missourians! That is what they
call people from Missoura, right?) Talk about awkward. After a few less than
exceptional months of seeing each other and taking our friendship to the next
level, things took a turn for the worse, and I woke up one day (on his birthday,
actually) and realized I was never going to marry to this guy. We had become
such terrific friends, like Gayle
and Oprah, but without the lesbian tension, that he didn’t know how
to treat me like a girlfriend, but instead treated me like a girl who is a
friend. So I asked myself what was the purpose of being in this relationship. I
thought about it long and hard (that’s what she said!) and I couldn’t think of
one, single reason why I was with this guy. Now maybe you’re thinking (or maybe
you could give two craps less), “They were so close, why wouldn’t she want to
date him?” I will get to more of this story in a later blog…but at this AHA
moment, I decided to make a commitment to myself that I wouldn’t settle for
just tall, dark and handsome guys, but only for the perfect “one.” The one who
wouldn’t refer to me as his sister while sticking his tongue down my throat.
Whether you’ve found your “one and only” at church, a bar,
work, or from an online dating website – you had to kiss a few frogs before you
married your prince. As for me, I’m still kissing frogs waiting for one to turn into a prince. Isn’t that the fairy tale cliché every
girl desires? I’ve seen all the classic fairy tales growing up, and as my
sweet, naïve nieces grow up, a part of me just want to be straight with them
and tell them that those fairy tales aren’t realistic. But, the inner optimist
in me truthfully holds out hope for the fairy tale of my Prince Charming to
find my glass slipper and bring it to me, and then we’d live happily ever after
just like Cinderella. Except I might change a few details in that my prince might
come in the form of a small-town, country boy riding in to save me in his big
ol’ GMC truck and slip my missing cowgirl boot on me.
So as a single girl pondering my dating history, or lack
thereof, I’m recalling all the men and boys who have come in and out of my
life, along with a few who are currently still in it. I’ve dated, come close to
dating and have been set up to date a few winners as well as a few losers. During
my AHA moment of time, I started to label each of these winners and losers I’ve
come in contact with names like, “the one who loves church and prostitutes,”
“the one who calls at 2 a.m.” and “the one I thought was ‘the one’ who stole my
dog.” Like I said before, I’ve hypothetically kissed a lot of frogs…
At no point in this blog am I trying to hurt feelings or
declare that I’ve been the perfect candidate for someone to label as their “one
and only.” I’m simply sharing my shameful, painful, and often humiliating, humorous
stories of what it’s like being a hopeless dater. My name is Jill and I’m a
hopeless dater. The first step is admitting you have a problem right? If you
are familiar with the twelve
step program, you know the second step is to believe that a higher
Power greater than ourselves can restore our sanity. I believe God has “the
one” already picked out for me, and whether I’ve already met him, or I meet him
in one year or 10 years, I will hold out for him so I don’t have to be a hopeless
dater any longer.
