The past couple of months, I’ve tried my best to get back in the dating scene and be someone worth loving. These rituals always seemed to start the same: nervousness, small talk and, then, hours of raucous laughter. The short time together, which I thought went remarkably well, typically ends with an affable handshake or, even better, a hug, only to be sent a text a few days later, letting me know what a great guy I am but how they’re just not interested.
I don’t get riotously angry because I’m not their warm cup of bland tea and, honestly, I’m not going to fault anyone for that. You can’t get upset when someone doesn’t like you romantically, although, I would be lying if I didn’t admit to sitting on the edge of my bed and hugging my dog tightly, a tear or two softly streaming down my cheek as the Smiths play on the record player.