Dating: sucks.

Dating: sucks.

It's like a cattle auction, really, with the nice little touch of personal rejection. Having rounded that big 3-0 corner without a mate, significant other, or even Mr. Right Now, I thought I'd get out there a bit and see what my options were.

So far, not much.

I started out by dusting off my lavalife account (having let it go dormant about three years ago, the last time I felt a masochistic streak winding down), telling all my friends I was back on the market, and buying a little black dress.

I should add, at this point, that I live in a town of 500, including pets and livestock. In a rural area...you know, the sort of place where people call THEMSELVES rednecks, and are proud of it. I can't stand that attitude, myself, having been raised in a city by my gay mom, gotten a degree, and having traveled fairly extensively. Folks who brag about not having read a book since they were forced to in highschool don't do a thing for me.

Fortunately, I have a car, the money for roadtrips, and two good-sized cities within a couple hours' drive.

Anyways, back to dating sucking.

So there's these guys...let's call them Beavis and Butthead. I dated Butthead for a couple of years, back when Hypercolor shirts were still really cool. It didn't work out, possibly because he was sleeping with all my friends, or maybe just because we were too immature to work things out. Hard to tell. I was really hung up on him, though.

Hung up enough to call him about seven years later, to tell him how badly he had messed me up, and demand an apology. I don't know if my shrink would have thought that was a good idea, but we had a refreshingly honest conversation, in which he shocked me by actually issuing said apology. We've been great friends ever since, though I still refuse to set him up with anyone I actually like. He's my secret weapon for the next chick who REALLY pisses me off.

Butthead has been friends with Beavis since before I ever met either of them. They are currently roommates. I was driving through the town they live in a few weeks back, and went for a drink with Butthead. He mentioned Beavis, and I said "Wow, how's he doing? I haven't seen him in years". Apparently that meant (to Butthead) that he should give Beavis my number.

A few days later, I got the most interesting message on my answering machine. This led to phone calls every second night at seven o'clock for a few weeks. Things seemed pretty cool, and he piqued my interest by commenting that he a) likes giving footrubs, b) would really like to be involved in something serious, and c) thinks IKEA is cool. Things were looking up.

A couple more weeks of calls led to an invitiation for him to come out to my place for a visit. Yup, he was just as cute as I remembered, albeit with a few grey hairs. Both being single, we made a New Years date in which I got to show off my little black dress. A week later, I clinched the deal with a road trip on my part, and a really, really hot night on a twin bed which didn't involve any sleep whatsoever.

Followed up by...eight days of Radio Silence. WTF?

I realize at this point that although I am a very confident woman, I sure put myself through the grinder with men. I admit I'm still snatching up the phone every time it rings, only to be horribly disappointed when it's not who I was hoping. I flatly refuse to grovel, or even appear to be grovelling, by leaving more than two voicemails in one week.

So, I've scheduled a Wednesday night coffee with the first lava-guy who dropped a note, to be followed by a blind date that a friend from work has promised to set me up with...They say you've got to suffer through seven bad dates before you get a good one, so let's start the count...