Let’s start this blog entry with two truths and a lie. For those of you who have never interacted socially with anyone else before, “two truths and a lie” is when I tell…two truths and a lie. The plot twist comes when you have to guess which is the fib.

1. I’m an expert at dating.
2. I had three sets of teeth.
3. I once dislocated my kneecap by swinging my leg over a four-wheeler.

If you guessed point #1, you win! Congratulations on your common sense. Clearly that is the most outlandish out of all of the given choices! However, I decided to push myself a bit out of my comfort zone and attempt blogging about that very thing today.

Before taking anything in this entry seriously, or heeding any advice therein, I would like to note that this blog is the equivalent of Charlie Sheen writing about how to be sober.

Until recently, I had taken a hiatus from the escapades of the dating world. How long of a hiatus, you ask? Think of a point between “I’m asserting my independence” and “I’m agoraphobic.” My explanation for the break was pure apathy. I was content with being single. I was interested in dates, but if it took any more effort than a Jake Gyllenhaal look-alike’s car breaking down in front of my house, I couldn’t be bothered to find any. I simply had higher priorities.

I’ve come to the conclusion that, as awesome as fictional boyfriends are, I should consider trading in for a real model. (Sorry we had to cut our imaginary relationship so short, Peeta Mellark.) Along with this realization has come another: once again, I am going to enter social labyrinth that is dating.

For posterity, I thought I should record the phases that I personally go through when dating. I could refer to them as “the phases of dating” but I’ve accepted the fact that I’m not normal a long time ago. Making these phases seem relatable to anyone else would be false advertising.

First there is finding guys to date, or what I like to call…

1. Building the harem.

It’s at this point where qualities such as approachability, outgoingness, and the ability to create small talk would come in handy. While I have my miracle moments, I don’t have much of these traits to spare. Regardless of my societal ineptitude, I’m aware that I have an entire market of men available to me, and my brain reflects this. It’s like man shopping. As soon as this stage is reached, lasers are set to stun. Rather than two eyes I have acquired dual scanners, scoping out potential mates.

This phase starts off very idealistic. I half expect to run into someone who is obviously my ideal mate from the second we meet, as if a romantic comedy script writer is penning my life. At least half of my list could be marked off within five minutes, in my dream world. “I see you’re listening to my favorite band on your iPod,” is how my model introduction to a guy would begin. “Your shopping cart is full of spaghetti. You’re also wearing a shirt that says: ‘I’m a genuine, honest, laid back, smart, fun, sweet guy who likes kids and cats, and will watch Disney movies with you. Also, I’m not a douche.’ Let’s date!” I would be pretty convinced that I had found my dream man in five minutes, which is a big time saver compared to the months you’d have to take out of your life to make the same conclusion.

Now that I think about it, the scoping process would be much simpler if we advertised a key part of ourselves via t-shirt, something that we want the eligible public to know. It doesn’t even have to be the most prolific part of you. For example, shirts that would reel me in include:

“I like Harry Potter.”
“I give great hugs.”
“I play a musical instrument.”
“My hair is curly. See?”
“The fact that you spend a large portion of your time on the internet does not intimidate me.”
“I’m Darren Criss.”

With the inability to filter people out this way, “I’m going to find my perfect match at the grocery store” turns into “I’ll go out with this guy because he seems nice and like he wouldn’t be a serial killer.”

2. 50 First Dates

Now that my harem is built, here comes the time when I have to start interacting with these people. This is the first step into truly diving into the dating process, and it’s the most intimidating one for me. You have a few hours to convince a guy that it would benefit them to spend more of their time with you in the future. No pressure.

Even if it’s not a love connection, I think I do a pretty good job at just enjoying someone’s company and a free meal for an evening. Yet some first dates are just so…awkward. It’s like mentally shoveling through six feet of snow just to get through the night. Conversation is like running underwater; you’re putting in all of your effort, but you’re not moving very far.

“What kind of movies do you like?”
“I like the documentaries about earth worms, and whichever new action movie fad is out.”
“Oh. I haven’t seen either of those.”
“Oh?”
“Oh.”
“…”
“I’m cracking a joke.”
“Your sense of humor doesn’t register with me.”
“…”
“…”
“So, how’s the weather from three feet away?”
“Slightly more humid.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“…”

Usually the date and I come on unspoken, mutual terms not to see each other again. There are times when my tendency to make jokes in awkward situations is mistaken for charm. (Since I tend to make jokes in just about every situation, though, I can understand the mix up.)

They say that you have to sift through a lot of coal to find a diamond. After you sift for a while you should eventually find that person you make a connection with. Which brings me to phase three.

3. HOLY CRAP! ARE YOU EVEN REAL?

After a seemingly endless series of awkward or mediocre people, I find someone I truly connect with. Talking is easy. Laughing is constant. This person seems to subconsciously hit every “I really like this guy” trigger I have. It’s like he somehow acquired a collection of the best things to say on a date with me and is reading them off, one by one.

Some examples of what I may hear on this date include:

“I like that really obscure interest, too! Maybe we should like that together sometime!”
“I totally respect your space. I won’t even breathe the same oxygen as you without your permission.”
“I’m not the only one who has wondered why they don’t make band-aids in different skin colors?! Woah! You’re practically my soul mate right now!”

He’ll also tell me that my eyes are as blue as raspberry Otter Pops, or whatever guys say to girls to compliment them nowadays. It’s not like guys don’t tell girls they’re attractive on dates all the time, for whatever reason. Yet a part of me believes he isn’t reading off of a predetermined list of compliments. There is a certain genuine undertone to everything he says that you don’t run across every day.

I actually believe that he is beginning to like me, the same way I am beginning to like him. As nice as having an open, honest, and comfortable relationship is, not much can compare to the “getting to know someone you‘re starting to like“ phase. Every little molecule is tingling with the excitement, the possibilities. I haven’t had to go through the uphill climb of “learning to love this person” or “embracing their flaws.” In the grand total of five hours we have been acquainted, and in seeing all of the best sides of him, he is perfect. I don’t know which pet peeves he invokes, or how he might piss me off later. All I know is that I want to see more of him.

I am on crack. Pure, unfiltered, dating crack.

4. The Waiting

While the previous phase is obviously exciting, it’s also riddled with uncertainty. It’s not a part I do particularly well with. Seeing how things go? I have the patience of a seven year-old on Christmas Eve. Taking leaps of faith? My name is Wimpy McWimperstein.

I’m a complete weirdo in the fact that I like to have things planned out. If since birth I was given a chart containing the information on who I was going to marry, what my career was going to be like, where I would live, and how many children I would have, I would be content (because a calendar with a day-by-day schedule of the rest of your life would be a little unrealistic.)

Because life does not and will never cater to my anxieties, I just have to wait to see what it dishes out. Whether it’s waiting for a call, or waiting to find out if you feel equally interested in each other, or waiting for that piece of information that tips the scale for or against his favor. All I can do is wait. Even though I’m a fairly busy girl, it’s like this aspect of my life is put on pause. It’s the most awkward feeling ever.

In the meantime, I’m left to think of events so far. I feel like I overanalyze to the point of borderline psychosis, while others just call it being female. Girls (or at least me, because it’s not fair to drag half of the world’s population down to my level) have this uncanny ability to take this simple phrase or action spoken on the part of the guy and twist it, mold it, and grind it until it’s unrecognizable. I evaluate it into the ground.

Here is a hypothetical example of what I mean.

“I like you.”
WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? Let’s review our nouns here. Is there a store called You? A restaurant? No, not anywhere nearby. Maybe he was referring to a girl named ‘Yuh.’ Does he have a thing for Asian girls? Were there any Asians in the immediate area when he said this to me? Damn my brain for not being able to recall the Asians because that’s very important information now!
He could have meant he likes “you” as in “me,” but I don’t want to jump to any conclusions.

In my attempt to simplify the dating process (because I greatly need it simplified), and whether or not I should give the guy I’m questioning another date, I’ve made this flow chart.



These are the only concrete phases I can pinpoint before the possibilities branch out into all sorts of different directions. I could go on a few more dates with this guy and just not feel it the way I did in the beginning. I could discover something unsettling about him (like his secret kiddy porn dungeon, for example.) Or the flow chart could‘ve told me that I should eat ice cream instead, and I always take what flow charts say very seriously. Especially when ice cream is involved.

Or worse. I could end up in a relationship with this person.

I kid, even though sometimes my inner cynic rings clear. In my most bitter days, I've taken a walk by a local park. There is a house obscured by trees with no neighbors, and a bright yellow sign in the front saying boldly, “PRIVATE PROPERTY: KEEP OUT.” I see myself being that guy.

Yet there is something so enriching, maybe even worth it, about bringing someone else into your life. It’s worth the social niceties, and the counterproductive dating etiquette, and even the second guessing. I can give myself a complete life on my own, but it’s the people I share it with that make it worthwhile.

Until then, I'm going to go through this dating labyrinth and hope it doesn't drive me insane.