‘So this guy is really nice,’ I told my girlfriend. ‘He’s bright, funny, entertaining, almost everything about him is right. But he has quite a history, and it worries me. I think I’m just going to do the friend thing again.’
She looked at me oddly. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard me say that.
Why do you still date, she asked.
It’s never occurred to me not to. I’m going to go on dates just as long as I have this idea of love and romance in my head.
Because I don’t want to be on my own forever, I replied.
Because I still like the idea of love.
Because it would be so cool to discuss supper and recipes and what we’re going to cook and to be sexy and have fun in the kitchen together.
Because when I go on holiday it would be chill to just say to a partner, hey, what about Bali, or what about India, or what about…without having to dig around for available friends. Or to travel alone.
Although I do quite like travelling alone.
And I very rarely cook.
But I do like someone else to cook for me. Also to sweep the flour off the kitchen table, pick me up, push up my skirt…
I like having sex.
But then I do not have to go on a date to have sex.
Or to have dinner.
And it’s true I cannot sleep if I share my bed with someone. But maybe if I was in love I wouldn’t mind.
And ja I’m not mad about having anyone in my space and I cannot bear it when a guy leaves hair on the toilet seat or PHONES me, or, yeah, I don’t know why I date.
Except that I like dating. I’ve met interesting people. I’ve made some really good friends.
And I know I give terrible mixed messages and that is because even I do not know what I want but dating is often good and fun and there’s always a maybe.
About finding love.
‘Which is why I date,’ I told her.
She nodded in that way which meant she didn’t know what I was talking about.
Quite frankly, neither did I.