I keep hoping he just won’t call. I can’t believe I’m already having dating burnout, but I just really really want to put on my pyjamas and stay home.
My phone rings as I’m unlocking the door to my apartment. Of course.
I don’t change clothes. Instead of doing something to my hair, I just re-ponytail it. I make sure I don’t have smudges under my eyes and put on some lip gloss. Done. That’s all I care.
He wants to get coffee, and we end up at a Starbucks. Lame.
I hate dating because I’m so tired of drinking things. In my non-dating life, almost all I ever drink is water. Would it be rude to order water on a date? I can’t do coffee. I grab a bottle of some juice blend. He orders a something-iato something-accino something something Starbucks concoction. With whipped cream. Super lame.
Add to the ever-growing list: I want to date a boy who drinks his coffee like a man.
I should have just gotten some water. I pay because I have a gift card. Super-duper lame.
“I guess I’ll get the first round later.”
Does he really expect me to go somewhere else and drink more things? Not gonna happen.
There’s nowhere to sit, so we go sit in a park. It’s cold. I hate this juice. I hate dating. This is going poorly, and it’s my fault.
We walk around a little. He should have had a plan.
I just want to go home.
I say I don’t feel good. It’s sort of true. I mostly just want to go home. And I really was sick earlier in the week.
We part ways. I go to the grocery store, then home to cook dinner for myself.
It is delicious.