After a countless number of first dates (47), I had decided that I had to do something about my self-esteem before my self-deprecatory comedic nature led me to laugh with my friends about how much of a loser I am until my thin veil of happiness melted in a fit of unbridled rage against people that formerly would have identified me as a friend.
I needed an ego boost. I am not happy or proud of the way I tried to do so. I decided to accept a date with any woman. I arrived at the restaurant early because I was still nervous. As I sat there looking at the wait staff who had to have reluctantly agreed to all wear horrible Halloween costumes, I figured that nobody in this restaurant except for the old man drinking by himself was truly happy. The date was pleasant. We had good conversation and the food was equally pleasant. Though I was not attracted to her, and her voice reminded me of my step-sister, who I like, but I do not want to date, she was very nice. The day after the date, I received a text that I had previously sent out 47 other times. It said she had a great time and wanted to hang out again this weekend.
I knew exactly how she felt at that moment, and I know exactly how she would feel if I didn’t respond. It is one of the worst feelings I’ve ever experienced. It’s just complete rejection after pouring your heart out for an entire evening to a total stranger. You stand by your phone waiting for that buzz that never comes. You can’t eat or sleep, and getting up for work is even more of a chore. I had to send her something, but I did not want to go out with her again. Next week, I will tell you what I eventually said, and how she responded.