We’ve got bigger problems than kissing, folks.
I’m going to try to be very honest about this subject. You’ve been warned.
I’m not sure I get dating.
Let me put it this way. The closest thing I have had to a date was my prom. I went with a boy from my math class who was three years older. Need I even continue?
We went in a group, and I paid for my own meal at Panera Bread. You read that correctly. I went to Panera Bread in a prom dress and paid for my own soup in a bread bowl. Ah, to be sixteen! Ah, to be familiar with the sound of crinoline sliding into a vinyl booth!
This whole prom saga ended with me telling my “date” that yes, I liked him as a friend, but no, I didn’t like him as anything more and nothing would ever change my mind. Ever. In a million years. And that I was sorry that I could never love him. Ever. In a million years. He said he understood.
Then he gave me a song he wrote about how much he loved me.
Since then I’ve had a few minor crushes. The largest being on Hayden Christensen circa Episode II. (I told you I was going to be blatantly honest.)
And so, I’ve never really been on a date. I am Josie Grossie from Never Been Kissed. I even say, “culottes.”
These are the facts, but I want to know why. Why have I never really been on a date?
Here are ten hypotheses I’ve come up with so far. Let me know if you have further insights.
1. I don’t flirt. Well, I don’t flirt well. I mean, I don’t flirt in the way most girls do. I probably flirt the way some gross boys do. Any time I think a guy is attractive I try to do some sort of impressive (awkward) physical move, like jumping off of something really tall.
If I hold back from such impressive (awkward) moves, I usually do something like pull my pants up past my waist and pretend to use a monocle or make fart noises with my mouth or just immediately start walking away from the guy.
Why haven’t I been on dates again?
2. I’m marriage material, and boys my age aren’t ready for that. (Please ask my Italian Rachel for confirmation that I repeated this phrase throughout the entirety of high school. Josie Grossie, people. Josie Grossie.)
The problem here is that there are people my age who are married, so this excuse can no longer hold up.
3. I don’t see the point of dating.
I’m not trying to condemn anyone for dating here. I just don’t really see the point. A free meal? We already saw how the Panera thing worked out.
I think dating is something I’ll do after I get married, but at 23, I don’t really want that yet, which brings me to…
4. An actual line on my bucket lists (all versions) says, “Make it to 30 without having been married.” That’s right, folks. I’m holding out until my golden years.
I like being alone. I see people my age who are married who are so happy, but I’m just not ready for that yet. And since I’m not ready for marriage, I won’t date (see point #3).
5. I look like a troll, but not in a way that would appeal to LARPers.
This could be accurate, but my mom doesn’t think so. (Thank you, Mom.)
6. I’m too beautiful for men to even approach me. I’m like that smouldering celebrity who says men are too intimidated by her to ask her out.
Considering the number of unibrow jokes I have endured over the years, this is just absolutely false.
7. I could be asexual. I don’t really have that many crushes. Maybe I’ll join a nunnery.
**cue shirtless picture of Aaron Taylor Johnson that I could not, in good conscience, actually post**
Wrong. Not asexual. No nunneries.
8. Two weeks ago, when the drive-thru boy (child?) asked for my number, I said, “Uhhhh no.” Then he said I made him feel like a creepy drive-thru man, and I said, “Yeah.” Then he gave me his number on my receipt.
Not sure what this has to do with why I haven’t been on a date, but it’s a pretty funny true story, right? It’s also recent evidence that I am not without a bit of womanly charm (at least if you look at me through my driver’s side window).
I guess it also made me feel a little bit good.
9. I believe in true love.
This could be a fundamental dating hiccup, actually. Believing this means I usually go ahead and pick my wedgie in front of the cute guy in the supermarket. “He’s cute, but eh, he’s not ‘the one.'” Resume tasteful picking.
(“The one” is away, turning down a modeling career to backpack across Europe. Obviously.)
10. God has really protected me.
I think this is absolutely true. I have MANY friends with broken hearts, and it looks… rough. I also have a wincy bit of a miniscule tendency to go whole-hog crazy over things that I like, and I don’t need to be throwing that affection from person to person all willy-nilly.
I suppose if the right boy came along, I wouldn’t purposefully show him the door, but I’m also not inviting him in, ya know?
CONCLUSION: I just don’t get this dating thing or why I don’t fit into it. Oh, well. Maybe I need to shout: “I’M NOT JOSIE GROSSIE ANYMORE!” or maybe I just need to work on my flirting game (i.e. look for taller things to jump off) or maybe the world needs to know that non-daters aren’t entirely off their rockers.
Off Their Rockers.