Back in the Saddle

I've been trying to convince myself for a little while that it was time to emerge from my asexual hibernation, so to speak. But I couldn't really bring myself to put myself out there and every time I had close encounters with the opposite sex, it usually ended up with me injuring someone's nuts. So for the sake of my sanity and the possibility of reproduction everywhere, I thought it would be best if I just gave up.

It took me a fun weekend out with my friends to remind me what I already knew: that flirting is supposed to be fun and when you're ready to start dating again, it'll just happen. There's no use in chasing it. Or in my case, there's nothing productive about feeling bad about your lack of desire to intermingle with dudes.

I think it's perfectly natural when you've been badly burned to take some time off, just get better, and slowly acclimate yourself to the idea of actually opening up to someone else again. And when the day finally comes that you meet someone and think to yourself, "Hey I wouldn't mind having a drink with this dude. Or eating food across the table from him. Or sharing bodily fluids with him," it's pretty damn exciting.

But now I'm jumping the gun, especially on the sharing bodily fluids thing. Let's get back to the beginning.

My trouble trio of R, S, and myself had a nonstop weekend of going out and stirring things up. I had my first beergarita, a margarita made with tequila and beer, and yes it may sound disgusting, but I guarantee you it is quite tasty, and as potent as you imagine it to be.

So my state of mind was, let's say, fuzzy when we discovered the mecca of single boys in Manhattan. Unlike any other bar I've ever been to, for some bizarre reason, this bar was packed door to door with cute, available boys. There was literally a ratio of six guys to one girl. It was pretty much what I imagine heaven to be like, minus the odor of stale beer in the air.

Spurred on by the testosterone in the air, the beergaritas, and the shots we proceeded to consume in the bar, I decided it was the time to start talking to guys again. Which led to a reckless night of flirting with anything that was around and handing my phone number out like I was a car salesman at an auto convention. Later, it occurred to me that it would save time if I just had business cards made up that I could leave at the bar.

(I actually think this is a fantastic idea that I should pursue. I could make up business cards with my head shot, name, and phone number. Later, when S and I were discussing this possibility, we thought there should also be a caveat on the back that yes, I am always this loud and obnoxious, even when I am not imbibing serious amounts of alcohol with my equally loud and obnoxious girlfriends. That's right, Buyer Beware!)

One of my potential suitors put me in a cab (yes, alone) at about 4AM, leaving me to contemplate the success of my night. Especially in the world of dating, I believe in the law of averages, so I had to give my phone number out to several guys knowing that only about half of them would actually call me, and only one or two of those would evolve into an actual date.

And just as I anticipated, within the week two of the guys had contacted me, and both asked to go out with me, but only one of them evolved into an actual date.

(For some reason, the other guy asked me if I wanted to go out and what my schedule was like and when I responded, I never heard from him again. Apparently me agreeing to go out with him was so satisfying for him that he never even felt the need to actually go out with me.)

I'm not too concerned because I can tell you with certainty that none of those fellas was going to be the next great love of my life; in fact the odds that there is even a second date in my future are slim to none. The more likely situation is that I will find dating to be so distasteful and the guy so awful to spend time with that it will throw me right back into celibacy.

(Yes, I have a healthy amount of cynicism, after all I'm a New Yorker.)

But even if that does happen, I think the simple act of putting myself out there and actually going on dates shows improvement of a sort, and my willingness to get back in the game. And it reminded me that this whole process is supposed to be fun! The meeting someone new, the flirting, the handing out your number and crossing your fingers for the best, the exhilaration when you actually hear from him, the whole shebang.

So this is a warning to all the men out there to watch out, because I am officially back.

Rawr.