Dating is Hell

…and I've already heard Satan's pick up line

“…of course, in every dragon myth half the problem is the princess.” Sarah Dunant 

I will admit that this blog is very one sided. Reading it, you might think that the majority of guys suck. A lot of them do, I’m not denying that, but like they say, it takes two to tango. My single status is just as much my fault as it is the guy’s fault. I am far from perfect. I’m extremely independent. I can be a little too intense. I’m a know-it-all. And last but certainly not least: I suffer from verbal diarrhea when I’m nervous. For the first time, I will be sharing a dating story where I’m the one who put the hell in “Dating is Hell”. 

I matched with a guy on Bumble. We had some great conversations and he was able to keep up with my witty banter. He was pretty much perfect for me, at least on paper. He was a liberal, atheist, vegetarian who didn’t want kids. He wasn’t bothered by the fact that I wore an arm sling on our first date and that I had to order food that could be eaten using only one hand (it’s a long story). 

Our first two dates went well. Our third date was a little while coming due to my being out of the country, my insane work schedule, and his commitments to friends/family. We finally had a time when we were both free: Saturday from 11am-1pm. I suggested that we take our dogs for a hike. Oh, did I not mention he had a dog? Check that item off the “perfect boyfriend” list. That morning, after working 53 hours in 5 days, I woke up with a sore throat. I would be damned if I was to cancel this date! So I went anyway. When we met at the trail head, I told him I wasn’t going to hug him because I was coming down with a cold. So date three and there was to be no touching? He didn’t seem disappointed in any way but I’m sure he wasn’t thrilled to know that I was A.) most likely not going to hug/kiss him and B.) germ infested.

In any case, we start the hike in good spirits. There were quite a few mosquitoes out and we were talking about how we would have to check for ticks after the walk. I asked him if his dog was on flea and tick preventatives year round. He says no, that she’s only on them during the summer. There’s an alarm going off in my brain. My inner voice says: don’t do it! Don’t lecture him about flea and tick preventatives! That’s a sure-fire way to annoy someone. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I only had his dog’s best interest in mind though! She was just so cute and I didn’t want her to get a tick borne disease!!! So it happened. The verbal diarrhea. The word vomit. I told him all about the tick life cycle and the diseases they transmit and why his dog needs to be on preventatives year-round. Basically the only person who could be turned on by this would be my flea and tick preventatives rep (hey girl!). 

“Ok,” I tell myself. “It’s over and done with. Let’s just move on.” But no. It’s not. He brings up heartworm preventatives. “She’s not on that year round either???” Oh boy. Here comes another bout of diarrhea. One of the dogs I adopted turned out to be positive for heartworms. The treatment is expensive and super painful. It broke my heart to see my usually hyperactive and friendly dog hunker down in the back of a cage in pain. So cue up the slides, we’re on to lecture #2! Maybe I should hire someone to follow me around on dates and slap me in the face when I start doing this crap!

Moving right along… we are on a trail called “Hidden Pond”. At this point we had been walking for a while and had yet to see any signs of a pond. And then we hear it: “I hear a frog, we must be getting close!” He says “yeah, that was either a frog or a goose.” “DON’T DO IT!!!!” yells the little voice in my head. “KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!!!! And do I? Of course not. Verbal diarrhea can be like actual diarrhea: sometimes you just can’t keep it in. “Actually, that is a frog, not a goose. I took herpetology in college.” 🤦🏻‍♀️ Oh yeah. I did it. I went there. 

Awesome. Just awesome. At this point it’s pretty hot out and we’re sweating. I’m starting to think the whole “hidden pond” thing is a lie. The state park people have hidden speakers that play frog sounds to make you think you’re getting close but in reality there is no pond. Kind of like my dating skills. They do not exist.

The trail is narrow most of the way so we can’t walk side by side. There are frequent moments of silence. My mouth cannot abide that. It feels like I was put on this earth to kill all moments of silence. I MUST KILL THE SILENCE (unless we’re watching a movie, in which case, quit your yapping before I cut you). So really it’s not my fault. It’s my destiny. You can’t fight destiny. 

Honestly, I don’t remember most of the stuff I yammered on about. All I can remember is sweating my ass off and being unable to stop talking. The more I talked, the more nervous I got, so the more I talked. It’s a vicious cycle indeed.

Back at our cars at the end of our hike (the pond was never found, by the way) we each give our dogs water to drink and we stand in silence. Ugh! What to do now?!?! The phlegm from my burgeoning cold has increased so I can’t even go in for a hug to bring this disaster to an end. I might not even have done that were I healthy because of the sweat. I pet his dog and talk to her. He remains silent. There’s literally crickets. I decide to just put myself out of my misery and say my goodbyes. 

So far, we’ve continued to text here and there. To say that the conversations have been lackluster is an understatement. He doesn’t seem like he’s dying to see me again, and I can’t say I blame him. Cue the movie “He’s Just Not That Into You”. Play it on repeat. 

So maybe the moral of this tale is that I just need to find the Imodium to my verbal diarrhea. I think I’ll include that in my dating profile… just kidding. Maybe. 


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