Can you be a serial dater if you never actually date because you have like a 95% rate of getting stood up?

While most people love the beginning stage, I hate it. I find it tedious. Mostly because it’s difficult to find time and so much easier to skip to when the guy can come over with Evelynn around and I don’t need to worry about scheduling a babysitter or be mindful of time. It’s also difficult because people seem to forget that at that beginning stage, you’re still getting to know someone. You don’t know what makes someone tick or makes them feel insecure, you don’t know their schedule, you don’t understand their joking style. Mostly, you don’t know how honest or dishonest they are.

It’s no secret I seem to be a beacon for the assholes of the world but despite any trust issues I might have, I’m adamant about blank slates. I can’t treat each new guy like a past guy if I’m moving forward in life, so I don’t. However, more often than not, when I allow myself to believe the guy’s excuse, it bites me in the ass and I end up wishing I’d have gone with my gut, trusted history, and not have wasted my time. Red flags exist for a reason.

It’s a disappointing place to be when this is the trend of my dating life.

More disappointing: when you have to tell the guy how to date.

It’s noted somewhere in one of these blogs how I’m not a fan of the rich man. How it’s typically an immediate turnoff for me. Recently, I decided to listen to my old boss and my new boss on giving rich guys a try regardless—it doesn’t always mean manipulation, sometimes it can mean discipline and hard work. Of course, given this is my dating life, I give the rich asshole a chance not a man who happens to be rich.

Twice this dude asks me out and says “Okay, I’ll follow up with you and let you know what works and what the plan is.” Twice he fails to follow through and I don’t hear from him for over a week. Not to mention, he was very unspecific about a time, instead choosing “this weekend” or “later this week” and then wonders why I don’t still have his number in my phone.

I’m the dumbass who let him do so twice.

And who the hell speaks about “following up” for a date?

Sad part: I haven’t actually counted this guy in my Getting Stood Up count because I’m not sure how to qualify it since he asked but without giving a specific time, and he asked twice.

Ugh, what an embarrassment.

And did I mention he’s 34 years old? WHY AM I TELLING A 34-YEAR-OLD HOW TO DATE IN 2019?

Because it’s 2019 and this is dating in 2019.

What happened to dating? You know, when someone has a plan and time already in mind instead of no clue until the night of or without expecting you to drop everything and agree to plans last minute (HI! Single mom here). It’s annoying and I’ll tell you how this attitude towards dating translates: “I’m lazy and not that interested but I’ll ask you out since I’m bored and have no one else to ask.” I should make it a rule to automatically say NO to any guy who can’t just Man Up with a plan but up until now it’s made me feel high maintenance to even think it’s an issue. Apparently, I need to be high maintenance.

Yes, I said Man Up in an overly sensitive society. No, I don’t care.

I’m not asking for a label—I hate them and firmly believe if it doesn’t come naturally, you’re likely either not with the right person or not ready for a relationship. Also, who labels on the first date? I’d run. I’m not asking for flowers—I’m not a girl you buy flowers for. I’ve even dedicated an entire blog to this once. I’m not asking for a fancy dinner—I prefer great conversation over comfort food and some Jack Daniels (or a homecooked meal if it’s not the first time) in a darker lit restaurant. I’m not asking you to play daddy—I don’t even want you meeting Evelynn until I know where I stand with you.

Who made dating so complicated? What happened to simple mutual attractions, hanging out to see if it could go somewhere, and honest communication?

And then there was this weekend. Getting stood up this weekend—number 5 or 6 or 7 depending on how you qualify being stood up—was something entirely differently. Another round of that clear miscommunication and a few yellow flags.

It’s too much.

I allowed myself to be excited. We’d talked enough and I’m a sucker for a great conversation and communication, a strong wit—and someone who calls me on my bullshit. I also allowed myself to cry for about 24 seconds because when does it end? When does the conversations stop ending abruptly with being stood up instead and start to be continued in person?

And because I wanted puppy chow but I gave it up for lent.

I should’ve given up dating for lent.

But this is me we’re talking about, I’m stubborn as hell. Giving up would mean they won, they got to me, they broke me. And I hate that pesky statistic that says 82% of single moms with a daughter remain single. I hate being defined by statistics. I make my own labels.

Looks like I’m going the high maintenance route.