Some time ago, I started writing a book about dating. It's probably just like every other dating book you've seen and/or read, but without the advice and with a lot more of my ridiculous experiences. That's how I classify my love life (or lack thereof): ridiculous. It covers a wide range of instances involving my failures with the fellas, from my cheesy pick-up line rejections to dates *so bad* that you'd think I was a pathological exaggerator. Trust me, if I had the creativity to fabricate some of those stories, I'd definitely be putting it to better use. I'd probably be a billionaire.
Anyway, through a random and laughable series of events that I will not go into right now, I ended up on eHarmony. It began as a joke, and a pathetic attempt to boot my ass out of a heartbroken depressive no-man slump and back into the world of bachelors and douchebag daters. Fast-forward through some anti-climactic nervous breakdowns on my part, and you arrive at today, Thursday - two days before the nervously anticipated coffee date with eHarmony guy #1. Literally, my first date in months. My palms have already started sweating.
The idea of dating has pretty much repulsed me since my last fiasco, That One Love, wherein I actually (unfortunately) discovered that I am capable of f...feh...feeeh...feeeeeelings and made up for years of dating without them by having them all at once. Now, I can't figure out how to turn that part of my estrogen-oozing lady brain off, so instead of going out and meeting gents willy-nilly and with reckless abandon, I mostly just avoid the subject altogether. EM says it's "emotional progress" and "all part of growing up." I say it's "annoying, unnatural, and wrong." We'll see what happens this weekend, though. I'll feel very defeated if EM is right... again.
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