Early & Alone #38: Groundhog Day
[[Before we begin, I just want to note that I wrote this on Saturday, Feb. 1, and didn’t realize until I was done that Groundhog Day was Sunday. So, while this email seems timely and tied to the lil’ guy and the shadow and whatever, it wasn’t meant to be. Enjoy!]]
I went on a date Thursday night to my favorite wine bar (Haley.Henry), where I’ve gone on a few other dates. It’s in Downtown Crossing, which is a convenient spot to meet in Boston, and so I find myself planning dates in that area pretty often. I’d matched with M. on both Hinge and OkCupid. He was cute, his profile pictures depicting him on a recent trip to Iceland, standing beside a block of glacial ice so bright blue it appeared to be glowing. We messaged for a bit and he asked me if I wanted to go out for a drink and I said yes.
But when I told my roommate I had a date and she asked me to tell her about him, I realized I knew very little about him. “Um...he works in IT...I think? And he lives outside the city. And he went to Iceland once. And he seems nice.”
This is fine, and not uncommon. There’s only so much you can learn about a person from an online profile and a few messages. I prefer this actually, to knowing too much about a person before meeting them, because an avalanche of messages usually leads to a building of certain expectations, either positive or negative, and expectations are dangerous when it comes to online dating. The sparse messages I exchanged with M. allowed him to remain a blank slate I could project my hopes on to, such as those hopes remain after years of online dating.
So we met and we sat at a table in the surprisingly crowded bar for a Thursday at 5 pm. He was just as he looked in his photos, even down to wearing the same jacket he’d been wearing in those Iceland pictures. He was cute and yet...my heart still sank nearly as soon as we began talking. I just knew it wasn’t right.
We talked, got some wine, split a charcuterie plate. He gave me Iceland tips (I’m going to Iceland! In April!) and I gave him Miami tips for an upcoming trip he’s taking. We talked about podcasts and The Office and our favorite snacks. It was fine! But as we hugged goodbye and he said he’d had a good time, I just smiled and nodded and told him to have a good night. And the whole train ride home, I worried about how I would now have to reject him. (Note: after texting me that night, he just disappeared. I haven't heard from him since, which is a blessing. Sometimes we get lucky!)
This is how dozens and dozens of my dates have gone over the last few years. The dates are fine. They are neither terrible nor wonderful. There is no spark. There is no excitement. The men, for the most part, are very sweet and non-threatening and well-meaning but slightly clueless and maybe just too into video games or Baby Yoda or motorcycles or toxic male comedians or maybe have never read a book since college.
I’m not saying a man I date needs to share every interest I have, but there needs to be some kind of foundation of common sensibilities. And a spark—a dumb name that I think is conflated for sexual attraction and which I used to discount completely, but now I believe is closer to an attraction in general, sexual or otherwise, but some kind of connection. And I realize that this kind of connection may not always happen on the first date, but I do think you can see the promise of that spark. You just know. I’ve talked myself into so many second dates, just to give a person a chance because they’re so nice! But it only makes it more difficult to reject them and I end up feeling like a bigger jerk as more time goes by.
So dating, for me, has seemed like one long online dating version of Groundhog Day lately, wherein I relive the same sets of circumstances with slightly different men and each time, my hope gets eroded just a little more, even though I try, I really try to tell myself that it will happen. Someday, I will meet someone I like again. And that’s a really low bar...but it’s all I can muster in these Groundhog Day times, and even that seems impossible.
But I’m trying to reframe the narrative. After all, it’s better to be the one doing the rejecting than being the one who’s constantly rejected, isn’t it? (Of course, I’ve been rejected, many times, but mostly I’m the one doing the rejecting these days.) There’s a kind of power in realizing that I’d rather be alone than settle for a guy who’s nice and cute and well-meaning but whom I don’t feel excited about. That excitement is vital. Without it, everything is just Groundhog Day.
What I’m Reading: I am reading Joshua Foer’s book on memory, Moonwalking with Einstein, for book club.
What I’m Watching: I watched the series finale of The Good Place yesterday and just sobbed. It was so lovely. If you haven’t watched the series, it’s only 52 episodes total and well worth your time.
What I’m Listening To: I have become obsessed with the You’re Wrong About podcast’s series on the OJ Simpson trial. They’re planning 14 episodes, really doing a deep dive on the various people and events of the murder and trial. I don’t know why I find that whole situation so compelling (I really fell into an OJ rabbit hole when the Ryan Murphy show was on a few years ago, as well as the excellent documentary OJ Made in America, but apparently I’m not done yet!).
What I’m Wearing: I have been a fan of L’Occitane’s almond shower oil for a long time, but I just discovered a much more economical and almost as luxurious alternative: Trader Joe’s shower oil. Give it a shot!
What I’m Eating: My favorite new decadent breakfast involves a fried egg, some ricotta cheese seasoned with salt and pepper and a little olive oil, and greens dressed with olive oil and lemon on toasted wheat bread. Very satisfying.