The Art Of The Un-Date

Yesterday I broke down the symptoms of celibacy: loneliness, boredom, and a desire to hump anything that moves. However, I didn’t talk about the measures I’ve been taking to combat these forces. Well, I mentioned that masturbation cures the horniness. But what do I do when I’m bored and lonely? Besides masturbate again, of course.

Introducing the “un-date.” It’s this little thing I’ve discovered. I go out for dinner, coffee, or drinks with a member of the opposite sex, and instead of spending the entire time speaking in innuendo and looking at one another suggestively, we actually get to know each other. That’s some crazy shit, no?

Yesterday, I had an un-date with a boy that goes to film school in LA. I met him at a Christmas party, and this week he stopped in Chicago on his way back from Cannes. We grabbed some coffee and sat outside a Starbucks, sharing our views about the world. And at the end of our time together, he hugged me. That was it. He didn’t invite me back to his place or invite himself up to mine. He didn’t tempt me to leave with him by promising a nightcap. Hell he didn’t even kiss me on the cheek. We hung out, talked about life, and then we went our separate ways.

So this is how people really get to know each other? Interesting.

I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been on a date that didn’t end in the sack before. But dating has always seemed like such a preamble to just that. I let the guy get to know me, but only as much as I wanted him to know, and I played by "The Rules," believing that doing so would almost always ensure a second date. I've never not been asked on a second date, I shit you not. But I think that is a problem in and of itself.

When I was a “Rules Girl,” I wasn’t really myself on dates. At least not in the way that I can be on these un-dates. Back then, it was very easy to slip into the habit of conforming to the desires of the guy I was with. That’s why my friends used to call me The Great Accommodator. With that second date dangling in front of me like a carrot (or, in some cases, two carats) I became a “Yes Woman.” Granted, I’ve never been much of a “No Woman.” But I found myself becoming what someone else wanted me to be. And once you start doing that, it’s really difficult to stop. Because the longer you’re with someone who thinks they know you (but really has no idea) the more you get caught up in a constructed reality. So the Second Date Syndrome became a symptom of my Accommodating Disease. And now I think I’ve found the cure: hanging out with a guy and being totally and completely myself. It doesn’t matter to me if I don’t get asked on a second un-date because I haven’t beat myself up trying to be the girl he wants me to be in the first place. So maybe when I start seeing boys romantically again, if I treat my dates like I do these un-dates, I’ll have a lower return rate, but a higher overall satisfaction level.

Huh. Un-dates. A couple less cocktails, a lot less flirting, and a lot more dignity. I’ll be damned.

xo