...well almost, except for the fact that I don't own any Jimmy Choo stilletoes, I do not have wildly successful gal pals that I sip martinis with, and Im sure as hell not scoring with any sexy businessmen or even any hunky carpenters. So I guess its not exactly like Carrie Bradshaw's fabulous New York life, filled with wild trysts and high fashion, but my Portland version does parallel the universal fact that rings true in both worlds: Being a single girl in a big city is a pain in the ass.
Now, im not the kind of gal that is on the hunt for Mr. Right. I've never been one to daydream about a big white dress or an expensive ring... hell im not even sure what a princess cut even looks like. But, I am the kind of gal that does like a little attention. I mean who doesn't like to feel like that are attractive or interesting? And so it is that I have thrown myself into singles vortex of 'dating'. Let me tell you, this world is not pretty. It fits every cliche that you see on tv. The situation goes something like this: Boy meets girl, they chat, boy tries to impress girl with empty conversation about how well educated he is, how he loves art and conversation, he orders two more drinks, continues to talk about his muscles and foreign film, a few more drinks come, he tries to put his hand on her leg..... ick. The situation can end one of two ways. The girl eats all of this bullshit up, goes home with him, screws him and thinks she has a boyfriend. Or, in my case, the second the hand goes on the leg, the claws come out. My mouth starts to run and I verbally castrate the poor fellow. The encounter is over, I might thank him for the drinks, flee the scene, and vow that I will never do that again. But the truth is, I do it again. I do it over and over hoping that the next time something will actually stick. I have even crafted a complete method to my dating madness. Little does any man know it, the odds are always stacked against him. I come equipped with a mental clipboard that judges the prospective suitor more harshly than American Idol. Tennis shoes with jeans? Automatic 10 point deduction. Mention of a fraternity or use of the word 'bro'..... straight to the douchebag category. Like mechanics at the garage, I can always find something wrong during an inspection. And as for me, Im even worse. I go into every situation as if im playing a part in an Academy Award worthy film. I have, if you will, a "Sarah-like character" that I slip into before each date. I have perfected my life's story, leaving out the boring details and getting straight to what they want to hear. "blah blah, like to travel, love wine, blah blah, no kids...." To keep the mood light, I try my best to be funny. Like a stand -up comedian, I have my jokes perfectly times and tailored to any man's personality because let's face it, they're pretty much all the same. This mechanized approach to dating has allowed me to be charming when I need to be, make them feel manly when they need that stroke of the ego (the only stroke they are getting from me) and has overall made dating a total waste of my time.
So why do I continue to do it? Why do I go out with the Jewish boy who can't run a mile or pay for my shitty clam chowder? Why is it that the boy who is eager to give me the world will never be able to because I have a problem with his nostrils? And how come when I say that im not interested, it becomes lost in man-translation? I say im not looking for a relationship, and he takes it as, a "im not looking for a relationship right now, but if you really bug me enough I'll cave or at least sleep with you".
Oh the frustration. Oh the wasted time on hair and make-up, the forced smiles, and the awkward, "it was nice meeting you... now get out of my face" goodbyes. Yes, it all sucks but I guess its just the nature of the beast that our society has created as an alternative to arranged marriages, or getting hitched to your high school sweetheart or rushing to the aisle before the bun in the oven arrives. So like Sarah Jessica Parker and the other broads in that glamorous show, I will continue take my fishing pole out to that giant sea, continue to reel them in and throw them back ...one lackluster date at a time.
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