Photo by Almos Bechtold on Unsplash

Back On My Dating Bullshit

The ultimate guide to falling in love with me.

“When I come back like Jordan, wearing the 4–5, it ain’t to play games with you.” — Jay Z

Welp, I guess it’s time. After a 17-month relationship that flamed out spectacularly in a mushroom cloud of codependency, a 4-month stretch of drunkenly whoring about the city of Austin, a 12-month fact-finding mission to unearth the deepest, most pathological parts of my past and psyche to find out how my last love went so breathtakingly wrong, and a few more months of just practicing being my peak self — (March, April, May, June and July 2018 rank as five of the 10 best months of my life, objectively, and they all happened in a fucking row) — I’m back on my dating bullshit. Let’s light this candle and set the table.

A word of warning: I’ve never used a dating app. Not Bumble, Tinder, eHarmony, Match, Inner Circle, The League. I’m told I should explore this, but I have no desire to. I think we all know how this works. 80% of the women swipe on the upper 20% of the fellas. Yup. There’s data to support this:

These statistics show why it’s so hard to be an average man on dating apps

I don’t know if you’ve seen me lately (or ever) but I ain’t in that 20%. (Here’s a photo, plus a caption that someone told me should be my dating profile.)

So, yeah, I don’t plan on turning the search for lasting love into an unrequited swipe-fest. I ain’t that goddamned thirsty, and I don’t need the regular reminder that I’m not hypnotically hot upon first glance.

A second word of warning: No woman I’ve ever dated has become my girlfriend. That’s not a typo. The number is really zero. I’ve had six relationships in my life last longer than a year — three of them longer than two years. They began, in chronological order, as — a long-distance e-mail pen-pal, a close friend, a one-night stand, a drunken wedding make-out session followed by six months of long-distance flirting, a friend with whom I initiated a drunken birthday make-out session.

It’s not for a lack of dating, either: I’ve been on hundreds of dates. I’m good at getting them. I’m charming and good “on paper.” (Those scare-quotes should be in 96-point font.) And, I can honestly say, aside from the one where the woman showed up blackout drunk to a ramen restaurant at 5:30 p.m. on a Sunday after driving there, I’ve never endured the awkward terror of an outright bad date. (I haven’t checked with my past dating counterparts, though I suspect they might raise their hands and object strongly. “No, John, that date was bad. You just don’t remember, because you were seven gins deep.”)

The women I’ve dated, who don’t become my girlfriend, tend to fall into one or more of the following loosely-defined buckets:

1. They’re impossibly attractive, adorable, admirable, witty, charming, smart, independent and self-reliant but live nowhere within a reasonable commuting distance, and so they’re of the “Hey John! Just flying in to fuck / when are you flying into fuck?” variety. (I absolutely adore this, and it happens more often than you think it does.)
2. They’re well out of my league and know it, but they find me riotously fun to talk to. (This is a decent percentage.)
3. They’re married, or otherwise committed, but are grown-ass adults who have no moral quandaries about laying up with another grown-ass adult who enthusiastically consents to doing so. I don’t judge. People can make their own decisions. (I clean up with this demographic, for reasons I understand but haven’t printed yet due to the sensitivity of the situation, and I’m trying to word it in such a way that doesn’t sound like a Tucker Max B-side.)
4. They’re someone with whom we mutually agree it’s not in our best interest to have a monogamous relationship with each other, but we love to hang out and enjoy pleasing each other. (In the past, this was the largest bucket, but since December 31, I’ve actually capped this. You can read about that experience in the link below.)

I Don’t Want Sex

So, spoiler alert: I love dates. Really. What’s not to love about spending an afternoon or evening with someone you find attractive, sharing a drink or a coffee or a meal, or engaging in some shared activity, getting to know them better, enjoying each other’s company and conversation, and possibly unearthing some latent sexual tension?

Even more: I love women. They’re beautiful. They’re strong. They’re awesome. They know how to put an outfit together, work hard to be their best selves, and can charm the daylights out of you if they set their mind to you. I’ve never understood my fellow hetero fellas who say things like, “I hate dating,” or “women be crazy.” Like … nah, B. Women are dope. Dating’s not stressful or frustrating — you’re just not doing it right.

So here we are: Ready to dust off the ol’ “let’s go searching for love” machine, whip out the Rolodex, and see what happens. Before we talk about what I promise to offer and what I look for in a partner, let’s talk about how I approach the process.

I Don’t Date to Find A Relationship

As I mentioned above, exactly zero of the women I’ve dated have become my girlfriend. There are myriad reasons for this — including but not limited to the dynamic not being right, the timing not being right, me realizing she’s probably not what I’m looking for, or me just not being all that big of a catch — but I think it’s important to outline that this isn’t really the intention, anyway.

Here’s a chronology of my last few periods of single-dom:

• April 2002 — May 2005
• July 2007 — July 2010
• July 2014 — October 2015
• April 2017 — present

I typically go about 2–3 years in between relationships. I’m about 16 months deep into my current single period, which means within a year I’ll probably be in a committed relationship with a dope woman. (All my exes were awesome in their own way — it just didn’t work out all the way, and that’s fine.) This is important because it takes the pressure off me to frantically dig through the crates searching for someone to “complete” me, and instead I can concentrate on being the best version of myself I can be, live my truth, fulfill my purpose on this planet, and have a little fun along the way. Sometimes that fun includes kink and casual conversation.

So why date at all? Because, as mentioned above, I enjoy it. I have a blast. I approach dating the way I approach the rest of my life: I don’t set goals, I just look to maximize the present moment with as much good, thrilling happiness as possible — some hot pizza, a smokey whiskey cocktail, the occasional adoring gaze over croissants on an overcast Sunday, walking beneath the skyscrapers, some cathartic morning sex. Maybe that turns into a relationship. Maybe.

What I Promise My Partner

I’m 35. I ain’t new at this nonsense. I’ve never been a bullshitter and I don’t play games. If I ask you out, I’m attracted to you. If I like you, I’m going to tell you I like you, either literally in those words or with my impossibly warm and welcoming body language. Usually both. Here’s some other things to note about how I love and how I progress in relationships:

1. Know that I am complete without you. I’ve got a full, fulfilling life that balances personal and professional satisfaction. I make enough money. I take decent care of my mind and body. I value adventure, novelty, humor, growth and truth. I’m not perfect, but I’m giving an honest effort to be better today than I was the day before. I don’t need to spend all my time with you, and I don’t need your undivided attention. If you want to read in the other room while I’m fucking around on my guitar (not a euphemism) that’s dope.
2. My past traumas include: My parents’ divorce, my mom’s anxious attachment style to her children, my inability to get my proverbial professional and financial shit together until age 29. My first five relationships failed because I confused a woman emotionally needing me with true intimacy, and I bounced when I felt like I was losing too much of my autonomy. My sixth failed because I stopped being responsible for my own happiness. I spent April 2017 — April 2018 actively working on healing from all of this and I feel like I’m emotionally intelligent and reliable enough to move forward in a healthy, rewarding partnership.
3. You’re probably going to laugh. Look, my sense of humor is by turns biting, caustic, punny, surrealist, morbid, earnest, joyful, deadpan and sardonic. I know when it’s time to be serious — and I also know that time occurs less often than most people think.
4. I’ll cook and clean. I’m 35 and have lived alone, without roommates, for most of the last 17 years. I can even do basic shit like put together Ikea furniture, troubleshoot a broken dryer, and change the garbage disposal in the sink. Just don’t ask me to build a swing-set. Baby-steps.
5. I want a life-long partnership, but I’ve soured on marriage as an institution and I’m not sure about kids. I don’t know if I have a lot to add here, other than, I’m still willing to have my mind changed by the right human.
6. I don’t “do” god. But if you do, that’s cool. My dad’s super religious, so I’m used to it.
7. I’m an adventurer. I take frequent trips to faraway places — often without an itinerary. I enjoy pasta that’s way too spicy. I run races and climb mountains. I don’t stand still — I stand out.
8. I’m a shameless, relentless flirt, and I’m pro-kink, pro-PDA, and love kissing in rainstorms and at red lights. You’ve been warned.
9. My love language is NOT gifts or acts of service. It’s equal parts words of affirmation, quality time and physical touch.

That’s pretty much how I “do” romance. Everything else is open to interpretation, up for debate, or is otherwise malleable.

What I Look For In A Partner

I’ve learned, fairly recently, but still — it’s been thoroughly researched and beta-tested: A successful relationship consists of two people who don’t need each other, yet like each other about the same amount. That’s pretty much it — and that’s all I ask. Everything else is case-by-case.

So how does a relationship featuring two people who like each other about the same amount get to that point? Here’s some thoughts:

1. Boundaries — Namely, have them, lots of them, and state them clearly. They’re crucial for emotional health and when done right (and strategically crossed) they’re a massive aphrodisiac.
2. Trust and transparency—I am open and honest. I hope you value that.
3. “Stay if you want to, stray if you need to” — I’m, objectively, a fairly generous lover, and willing to go halfsies on a sex swing with you. Bring your toys and an open mind. That said: I’m probably not going to meet all your needs. I don’t expect to. This is a partnership, not a dictatorship. I don’t believe in being “possessive.”

Oh, and, a healthy working knowledge of jazz and rap’s rich back-catalog help.

There was a time when I really wanted to get married. I wanted to find a woman I’d fall so deeply in love with that dolphins would rise from the ocean just to sing our praises, and that every morning we’d be greeted by a rainbow on our morning run, and that even in our darkest moments where we’d cuss each other out over locking the front door by the knob instead of the deadbolt, that we’d still remember there was no place we’d rather be and surely no one we’d rather be nowhere with. Only that last part doesn’t feel excessive now.

Instead, I would still very much like to feel some kind of lifelong affinity toward one person in particular, a person who felt that same feeling back at me, and just see how long we can ride that out, and see if we can drag the thing into Act V with all four wheels still on it and the motor still running. It’s work, but it feels like it’ll be rewarding work, and it sure as hell beats loneliness or settling for marrying someone who isn’t willing to laugh and treats sex like a chore.

With the benefit of age, here’s what I’ve learned — I think: Rings feel like an incredible waste of money, weddings mean a lot less as you get older (the last one I went to, in particular, felt like a party for the youngs and I felt like the sorta uncool Uncle who was just there for the free booze and awkward dialogue), optics mean a lot more than they should, and women are fun AF — even when they’re not the right woman long-term, and even if they know I’m not right for them. Let the dating begin.

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