Mr. Comfortable and the Uncomfortable Second Date

When you last left your hero (that's me!) she was contemplating the offer of a second date with Mr. Comfortable, fellow-user of the dating app Bumble.

And when I say I was offered a second date, I should say he had sent me one or two texts the next couple of days, having officially asked for my phone number so we could take our conversation over to real, actual texts. The actual difference? Only the intimate detail of my actual phone number, giving him the power to, well, call me if he so desired. I am forever grateful to my iPhone for taking the pressure off of giving a man my real phone number by allowing me the power to block him if his attention becomes unwanted. I think I can speak for all women (and many men) when I say ABOUT DAMN TIME.

Anyway, that tangent aside, he had sent me one or two texts, and then one evening, when he found out I was getting home from my work trip that night, he asked if I wanted to come over to his place so he could cook me dinner.

Bumbling Along With Mr. Comfortable

Here's the cold hard truth: Since last week, I've already written two full posts for this blog that I then chose not to share. The stories, you won't be surprised to know, are regarding my dating life of the past year and a half (i.e. since the last time I update Me & Mr. Right Now). But here's why this blog is difficult for me. Sometimes I'm not sure what to share. How much is too much personal information? When does a post cross the line from a relatable story into me gratuitously whining about how "Love done me wrong?" And also, the introspective question: At what point am I really ready to share some things? When does it stop being "too soon?"

Perhaps one day, when I feel more removed from those stories, I will share them, but for now, here's a summary:

Keep Looking for It

"I'm sure you hear this all the time, but it will happen when you're not looking for it."

Next person to say this to me gets spit in their eye.

The well-intended person, of course, means to be encouraging. Comforting, even. Failed relationships? Feeling lonely? Just got off a disappointing date? Once thought you'd be engaged by this age? All of these remarks lately, whether made humorously or not, have been met with the same pithy aphorism:

"Quit worrying about it and it will happen."

Yes, dear friend [or perfect stranger, as the case may be], how stupid of me to desire companionship. You're completely right. I should definitely flip the on/off switch for that.

…oh wait.

Tinderella and the Bottomless Pit of Men

The trouble with online dating is that since its beginnings, it's been so easy for people to pretend to be something they're not.  Take what happened to my friend Mags, for instance.  I was discussing online dating with her and our mutual friend Lana just last month.  Mags is in a long-term relationship with my friend Gordon, and Lana is happily married to her college sweetheart.   We were discussing the question of rules and "deal-breakers," various experiences we've been through while dating.  When I asked about "non-negotiables," Mags didn't pause didn't think, didn't bat an eyelash but said, "He has to have hands."

Lana and I stared at her.

"Hands?" I repeated.  I supposed that hands were, after all, a nice thing to have, but that was still an odd qualification to give for a potential love interest.

Mr. Real Life and the Curse of the Far-Away-Girl

It was a dark and stormy night—No, really.  I was in Chicago and it was a legit downpour.—and I was descending the stairs of Chicago's Underground Lounge & Bar, a seedy, hole-in-the-ground dive-bar that is the perfect spot to go in Wrigleyville if you're trying to avoid the Valley of the Bros ¹ that is Clark and Addison.

I was in town for a two nights only and there to see my friend's band play and I was busy scrolling through my Sparkology app on my phone.  Although admittedly, cell service in the underground bar is a little shoddy.

Dating Mr. Online

Once Upon a Time there was a beautiful and kind young lady and a charming and nice young man.  The lady was a busy career woman and lived a very large city and sometimes it's just, y'know, hard to meet people.  The man was really a very nice guy.  He just hadn't met the right woman to appreciate his…erm…niceness.

Then one day, they both created online dating profiles, met up, got married, and lived happily ever after.

I can't help it.  The story just doesn't have the right ring to it.

Ruling Out Mr. Wrong

In my last post, I received a little bit of flack for my so-called "rules."  Nothing rude, but valid points, mostly from men, that I might be being a bit too selective.  Is it fair to rule someone out just because he called in less than 24 hours?  No maybe not, but let's talk about how that rule came into existence in the first place.

But let me start by recapping the couple of "rules" I mentioned to refresh your memories: