It's really easy to get discouraged. Today on the bus there was a guy who really wanted to chat me up; too bad that all he wanted to talk about was the number of beer cans that he could fit in his back-pack. Which is just like my back-pack! We have so much in common.
I know a lot of women who have given up, and I can understand that decision. It's hard to be disappointed. Continually. For YEARS. After a certain point, being hopeful seems downright illogical. And some women would rather give up than look stupid for trying.
Not me though. I'm all about looking stupid.
No, really. I believe heartily in taking risks (as long as they aren't likely to kill me). I analyzed the risks I've taken in my life so far, and although they don't always pan out, there is a definite trend that I'm more likely to get what I want when I try. Like the refrigerator magnet says: "In the long run, we only hit what we aim at." If I'm aiming at something, I would rather aim at "happily married" than "bitter and shriveled".
Which doesn't mean that I don't get discouraged. I do. Like when I read my online dating matches, and the options for the day seem to be an alcoholic, a player, and a moron. (More on them later.) When that happens, I remind myself of The First Law of Dating:
It's either a good date, or a good story.
If I'm looking at every bad date as an opportunity to amuse myself, then I'm more likely to bother responding to e-mail, agreeing to a blind date, or even just leaving my house instead of pouting.
I created this blog to help myself enjoy the bad dates for being the good stories that they are. And, of course, to entertain you with my suffering. ("We have a lovely bottle of Schadenfreude for you this evening, madam. Would you like to sniff the cork?")