The End of the Winter Lonelies

Cabin fever: be gone.

My dating ban, my hiatus, my celibacy pact to myself: I called it off.

Why? Well, to restrain myself from attempting to meet somebody, I had to literally hole myself up. I had to place myself in social quarantine.

That kind of isolation goes against the fundamental grain of my personality. I crave interaction with other humans. I go stir crazy almost immediately. I can't be held down. Trapped anywhere. Think you get cabin fever? You have no idea what you're talking about.

During this break of a few weeks, I got a lot of reading done, and spent much more time than usual being domesticated. I started hanging out more with my girlfriends, doing teenaged slumber party activities. My single person spirit guide and I even invented a new game. Sounds like it wasn't so bad, yeah?

But then the crazies started coming out of the woodwork. In spades.

People I haven't spoken to in years. People I had met only once. Exes who'd sworn they never wanted to speak to me again. Friends who were clearly situated in friend-zone territory. Most surprisingly: guys I had met on OkCupid and hadn't heard from in several weeks.

Something about the particularly harsh winter set off whatever it is in men's brains that causes them to seek out their own little polar vortex. For snuggling, against the chill of the real polar vortex swirling outside.

I had to start keeping a list. I kept track until I had up to seven awkward conversations. (It's in my nature to want to immediately diffuse all awkward situations at all times, but yikes, there is a limit!)

I had to be clever with how I would rebuff advances, "I'm in a pretty serious relationship right now."

Oh really?

"Yeah. We're engaged."

Ohh...

"Food and I are very happy. Great to hear from you!"

---

But FINALLY, fortunately, these magic moments have faded away. 

Which means everyone is starting to thaw out of Winter Lonely mode. Which means everyone is past Woe Is Me Valentine's Day Is Coming mode. Which means I think I will stop being the sidekick, the good sport, the wingman, and finally take my love life back on center stage.

Steel yourself. I sense more insane stories to unfold here shortly.

Brunch: A Breakdown

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The Morning-After brunch is a real, legit thing. In fact, I have an unspoken standing date every single weekend with a rotating cast of girlfriends and gays to catch up on Sunday or Saturday mornings to discuss the previous evening's exploits.

Here are some snippets from a single such meal. I can't even make up the things that are discussed at these meetings.

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One of my girls is late. The waiter decides to have a little fun and tell her that the rest of us had taken two tequila shots, each. And that she must do the same. She seriously considers it, before chastising us.

"You guys are crazy! That's what strippers drink!"

We just look at each other. I belly laughed. Because isn't that what everybody drinks? Also, who calls their friends strippers as an insult, really?

---

One drink in, one lady questions what she should do about a long-lingering flirtation. With a guy she clearly is interested in, and the feeling is mutual.

Cue eye rolls.

"You are SO Jane Austen-ing your life right now."

(Seriously ladies, stop it with Operation Play It Cool. Stop it with the swooning and mooning, and just go for it, yeah? We are in the era of Independent Womanhood. Get it.)

I thought that would have done it--go for it, case closed--but she continues the same discussion, and we're all forced to chime in. The consensus is that she is Doing It Wrong.

"Stop cockblocking yourself."

"You should just touch his penis. Just touch it. For our sakes'."

(Having a friend that is the "Samantha"? That is also a real, legit thing.)

---

Two drinks in, we discuss a different guy. He's really good on paper: great job, fantastic taste in date locales, sophisticated, well-dressed; but there is zero physical chemistry. Girlfriend is on the fence. She explains what she thinks is his pickup artist strategy:

"I think I figured it out. How he gets all these girls. I think he just slowly wears them down. With fancy meals and good taste."

Cue more eye rolls.

"...You make him sound like a serial killer."

"Just keep going on dates with him. What's the harm? He sounds kind of awesome."

She doesn't buy into it. Keeps framing him as a diamond in the rough. One she doesn't want to find.

"I mean, but maybe...I've found the unicorn, right?"

"...but you don't want to ride it."

"Ugh! Just touch it! Through his pants."

I followed up on all of the above the following week. Nothing was touched.

---

It's kind of amazing how many requests I get for dating advice. The likelihood of me saying, "Just touch it," is fairly high. The likelihood of me telling my friend to give the guy a chance is also high. Good luck out there, bachelors! I'm totally on your side.

Rather, Exclusively Dateable

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So I've received a lot of concerned comments from friends since I started the Undateable series of posts.

It is a joke.

Yesterday, an especially sweet friend chided me, telling me I am rather, actually, "exclusively dateable."

Let's clear the air: I'm not fishing for compliments. I'm not filled with despair or low self-esteem. I'm not doomed to never date again (should I ever choose to, my choice!).

I will illustrate how I mean this, with a real world example. I actually had this dilemma yesterday.

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You realize the outfit you want to wear calls for two pairs of hands to get dressed. A roommate or significant other to ask, "Hey! Can you help me zip this?" 

You get it half zipped. You're stuck. 

Do you:

A. Burst into tears while yanking the dress back over your head, breaking the zipper, opting for a different option better suited for your spinsterhood.

B. Shrug, throw on a cardigan, planning on pulling a friend into the ladies' room to help you out once at the office.

C. Think about it for a moment, breathe, remember you are flexible enough through your shoulders and calmly zip that shit yourself.

---

My answer is C.

I'm not undateable in that I am a horrible, annoying, intolerable person by any means. I'm "undateable" in that I am too independent. Assertive. Confident. Ambitious. Outspoken. And generally intimidating.

I solve my own problems. I will never be a damsel in distress.

Essentially, I would make one hell of a bachelor. 

Reason #4

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Text from one of my closest guy friends, when discussing someone I am interested in romantically:

Dude: Is he real Jinah? Is he an operating system?

Me: OS 1.

---

Undateable.

Reason #3

Disclaimer: he was hot. I was bored. I may have also been drunk OkCupiding.

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Me:  DREAMBOAT

Dude:  Hello there

Dude:  You like kissing huh?

Me:  Oh, hi! Duh, who doesn't like kissing? Oh I know, assholes.

Dude:  Hahaha hello cutie. Yes. One day lets kiss then cutie

Me:  What, no foreplay? Is cuddling negotiable?

Dude:  Oh don't worry lots of foreplay and cuddling

Me:  How many pillows? How many blankets? Socks or no socks? It is goddamn cold.

Dude:  Lots of both plus lots of nakedness

Me:  Oh my! I like your messages, keep them coming (NOTE: this is where I am mistaken)

Dude:  I like your face and wanna see you naked. Hump you hard.

Dude:  5555555555. Text me a sexy pic girl

Me:  [texts a photo of cats, in space, with pizza]

---

Undateable.

Reason #2

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At my apartment, after a night out.

"Let me slip into something a little more comfortable."

I change into a flannel pajama set, matching top and bottom, printed with puppies.

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(Unsexy and thus) Undateable.

Reason #1

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In conversation with one of my straight male friends, he offered me some dating advice.

"You have to reveal the like, 10 things you're good at, one at a time. Like one a week. You can't share it all at once at the very beginning. Gotta keep some mystery."

I nodded.

"But what if you're just good at everything? I'm good at everything."

Crickets.

---

I am Undateable.

Fairest of the Seasons

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Dating in the dead of Winter = relationship built on foundation of sadness.

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Dating in the Spring = relationship built on hope, optimism, and rebirth. Also, joy.

I would like to make a somewhat formal announcement: despite the stories I have in my pocket, I am actually not currently dating.

All of my online dating profiles are dormant, deactivated, and I haven't gone out on weekends with much purpose besides having a blast with my chosen company. Besides occasionally playing wingman to the single members of my crew, I haven't really had much romance in my life. (Except for working up the courage to #likelikeit, that is. But that, again, is another story to be shared at a different time.)

I had actually sworn off dating before Thanksgiving, but failed to actually do so.

My reasoning, is, well, is it really such a great idea to try to meet someone new right before the holidays? It's a busy and stressful time for many people, where some folks disappear into black holes for days at a time. That's just not something I was interested in--meeting somebody amazing, and then having them fall off the face of the Earth for the last half of December.

The original plan was just not to date until the end of February. Can you imagine the emotional rollercoaster of Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Year's-Valentine's Day with a new beau? Maybe I'm shortsighted, but the idea didn't inspire high aspirations of romance.

So, time to take a little breather.

Right before Christmas, I committed to really stepping back. By January 1, I had friend-zoned or politely declined all of the suitors I was engaging with, in real life or otherwise. The messages, texts, phone calls, and first dates came to a lull.

Ahh, how relaxing!

But now we're in this weird time of year. Following Blue Monday, I was worried the loneliness would be palpable. Mine wasn't. But I could feel it dripping out of other people. I felt it the weekend before. And the weekend following. I could see it in strangers' eyes, as I ordered a beer at the bar. It felt like every interaction with someone I didn't know lingered just a beat longer.

Other people's loneliness is difficult to navigate. In the past week, I've experienced far too many uncomfortable silences, which I've steamrolled through with an extreme, forceful (platonic!) warmth. The slightest downgrade of hugs.

Following the holiday hangover, and especially considering the crazy cold snap, everybody seems to be only seeking a warm body to spoon. My flannel pajamas and I are just fine.

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And despite it all--the promise and plan to keep me all to myself for a few weeks, I've found myself in the throes of a long-lingering, slow-burning crush.

Based on the last person I found myself immediately attracted to, I thought it would have fizzled away by now. But there it is, still simmering slowly in the background.

And normally I would have already boldly ridden the train of chance all the way to the last stop, impatient to figure out what! when! where! next.

But this feels different. Important, even. So I'm just sitting back, and letting the train keep on rolling. Slowly letting the adventure unfold, rather than tearing through the pages to choose my own.