Dating For The Not So Savvy Shopper

I’ll be the first to admit, I’m not the best of daters.  In the almost 17 years since I started dating, I’ve been on maybe 10 actual dates, and that’s being generous. I’m just not a dater.
Maybe I should explain a few things. I define a date as two people who are attracted to each other going to a previously agreed upon place and having dinner, watching a movie, having coffee, or some other form of entertainment or nourishment.  This date would have been set up a few days in advance with either a face to face meeting or via telephone. After said nourishment or entertainment, a hug or a kiss at the end of the evening at the door of ones domicile is not uncommon.  This is my definition of a date.
Most of what I have done is what the kids call “hooking up”. I meet someone, we hang out, have fun and then it’s over. Be it in 2 hours, 24 hours, or 2 years, it just ends.
So after taking some time off from the dating scene to “find myself,” I have now plunged head first into the pool once again, to … mixed results. Not the good kind of mixed where you get cake batter. The bad kind where you get Frankenstein’s monster.
In my 20’s I used to think that I was selective about my choices. I now realize that a pulse and the proper equipment what were all I really needed. Now in my 30’s, I have become more discriminating in my choice yet more open to all possibilities. I require more than a pulse, I require intelligence. (Braaaaaains)
So with this in mind, I seem to keep attracting the same type of guy that I did in my 20’s. Nice, but unavailable.  With all that time spent trying to find myself, you think that I could have at least tried to find a better class of men.
The last guy I was with was a perfect example of this:
  • Attractive …. check.
  • Funny …. check.
  • Kind …. check.
  • Sexy …. double check.
  • Lives far away …. check.
  • Breaks up with me after two months and begins to date a guy in Chicago and their already planning to move in together …. check … wait …
I beginning to think that I didn’t take enough time off. Maybe I should take another 10 years to find myself. That way, I really know who I am and still be unsure if I want someone.
Oy.
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