If I don’t have enough time now, how am I supposed to then?
I know! That’s what I’m saying. Craziness.

I'm not as think as you drunk I amSo the thing about dating a lot is that it might make you feel like a winner when you’re exaggerating your stories later to your guy friends, but during the actual act(s) it can get to just be damn near exhausting and empty.

OK, that’s not true. During the actual acts it’s fun as hell and you do feel like the big winner here tonight.

Except for when it’s exhausting.

Which can be a lot of the time.

Because a lot of the time (and ladeez I hate to say this for fear of the repurcussions, but): hot girls don’t know how to talk. [disclaimer: this is, of course, in reference to a theoretical girl or girls with no relation to anyone I have every known past, present, or future]


Hot girls (often) don’t know how to hold a conversation, seemingly because they’ve never had to… they’re hot. Which, you see, is where the exhausting part comes in. I should have specified, by the way, that there are two types of exhausting. The wink-wink nudge-nudge say-no-more exhausting… and the one I’m talking about.

You won’t hear me complaining about the first one.

Maybe it’s my own fault, I have this compulsion to fill in the awkward silences with witty banter and charming conversation. I know. What a fucking jerk. I’ll tell you, though, as much as I’m completely narcissistic, there’s only so much I can talk about myself before I want to throw up on my shoes. Maybe you, tall, blond, stunningly beautiful, would like to throw in a witty rejoinder of your own? Or an opinion? Hell, even a racial slur will at least raise an eyebrow.

I have this Negative Gold Standard that I think I’ve talked about before but haven’t the motivation to look it up (see “exhausted” above). It involves tis 2 and a half hour dinner and conversation in which I talked, non-stop, without a break. Not because I had anything to say. Not because the girl was incredibly enraptured. Not because I had an audience. Because this girl said nothing.
How’s your (whatever the hell she had)?

…and that’s why I love Spain. Have you been there before?

…which is why in college they called me Hand-Stand *chortle chortle* How was UC(whatever)?
it was…fine

You get the idea. Excruciating. Exhausting. And sadly the norm (or some approximation of it).

When I had a series of long term relationships I think I was just really lucky to stumble upon engaging, intelligent, beautiful women that actually could pretend to like me for extended periods. Either that, or the awkward dating phases were so few and far between that I always forgot this part. Now that I’m double and tripled up it’s getting really fucking depressing.

Which, I think, is the Catch-22: you’re alone, you get depressed. you go out with a lot of people, you get depressed.

I now suddenly understand why George Clooney is still single. No wait, George Clooney is still single for an entirely different reason; and every guy reading this knows what I’m talking about. Therefore, I’ll just end it with: this is the end.

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