Casual dating isn’t something I particularly enjoy – quite frankly, it’s something I’ve hardly participated in. I’m a relationship kind of girl. I never wanted to admit this in the past, so saying it out loud (and in this case, written on the Internet) comes with its qualms. I’m not dependent. I’m not insecure. I’m just an all or nothing kind of girl.
Obviously, jumping into a serious relationship isn’t a good idea. There almost has to be a period where things are rather “casual.” And casual can be fun. You can get dressed up, share stories and experiences with someone, and then choose to maybe never see that person again. Kind of refreshing, right? If you want the flexibility of a hit and run, don’t friend them on Facebook or mention any other social media platform. Twitter? “No, no, I don’t really use social media.” No need to solidify your online relationship through LinkedIn after the very first date. Except for Google+. Tell him you only use Google+.
After my last big breakup, (and spending a few delusional and heartbroken weeks in bed, watching only Friday Night Lights), I (okay, my roommate) pulled me out of my self-induced coma and convinced me to be social again. I went on a few dates with different guys, some enjoyable, some horrid. These casual dates, however, truly allowed me to identify what I want and need out of relationships. And here’s when I fear some might jump in and label me as a bit crazy, but I think a lot of people – of both sexes – can relate. I know if it could be a long-term relationship after the first date. Maybe this is because I know what I want – or more clearly, absolutely what I don’t want. This has proven to be an excellent thing. I don’t waste my time. On the other hand, I found it was difficult for me to just have fun, and take things for what they are. I can be rather quick to identify a relationship, or lack thereof. As you can imagine, my casual dating spree was quite short. After all, my idea of a casual date was going to the gay club to dance.
Not to say I didn’t learn a lot in this short period of time. I identified a few things about myself (for better and for worse) that have sincerely made me a better person, friend, and girlfriend. Through the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing (mostly) embarrassing stories about what I’ve learned through relationships (and lack thereof).
Be careful about drinking on casual dates – you can significantly impair your usual, steadfast judgment. Everyone’s limit is different, though mine, at times, is just shy of two beers.
I grabbed a drink with a casual date after work one evening. I parked my car at his house, and we drove together to a nearby neighborhood bar. After two beers each (I actually remember not even finishing my second beer), we left the bar and ended up back at his place. I know what you’re thinking – this might be a bad idea (or, great idea?)… I go into his bathroom to freshen up and see my hair is looking quite flat and oily. Translation: it’s real dirty (listen, I have a lot of hair, and it’s just too much to wash every day). I’m not a snoop, but I was desperate. I look in his medicine cabinet and there it was, like it was waiting for me, perfectly placed. Baby powder. In case you didn’t know, baby powder is God’s gift to women who dislike washing their hair. Sprinkle a little on the roots, and the tragic oil spill that transplanted itself from the Gulf of Mexico to your scalp soon disappears. I sprinkled a little bit of powder on the top of my head, and BAM, I look grrrea – SHIT. WHITE POWDER EVERYWHERE. Frantic, I try to clean up the mess. It’s like the Miami Police Department busted a drug deal upon my long blonde locks. I shake my head, trying to rid the excess from my scalp. I save myself by eventually pulling my hair into a topknot, brushing off the rest of the fallen powder. I’m clear. So maybe the alcohol impaired the workability of your hands. Maybe you underestimated your own shaking strength. I refuse to admit that this, overall, was a bad idea. Stealing a little baby powder from a guy you’ve hung out with twice isn’t a big deal. I come out of the bathroom, sit on the couch, and he goes inside. No need to worry – we’re fine. I cleaned up the evidence.
No, no you didn’t. You are the worst ever at cleaning up a crime scene. It was still all over the sink (white powder on white ceramic!), and he is borderline OCD, obviously seeing it within three seconds of entering the bathroom.
I tried to make up some story that was less gross than “my hair is disgustingly dirty right now.” He ended up knowing I was lying, but then blaming it on the fact that I probably had smelly feet. (I guess this is why guys have baby powder?)
I left a few minutes later to meet up with some friends and shared the story with pretty much everyone I was around that night. I have little self-control when sharing personal information, and I like to make people feel better about themselves.
As you might imagine, it didn’t work out between us – my casual date and me. But not because of the baby powder – more so because I was pretty much in love with someone else, but that’s a different story.
Until next time,