Over the weekend, I was sick.
Not like debilitated and “on his deathbed” sick… but you’d never know because it’s all the same to me; I handle it all the same. I was actually “fine” until Sunday when there was no scientific way this was “a twenty-four-hour bug” as everyone was saying. It never escalated to WebMD Researching levels, but I did go through two boxes of tissues, three [big] bags of Halls, and didn’t eat more than two cans of soup. (Probably due to the mass consumption of Halls.)
Nevertheless, that’s neither here nor there. What I really want to talk about is how being sick evokes a variety of feelings. Discomfort, confusion, and — the most deniable of all — vulnerability.
“Do you know how many amazing people I’ve passed up on the opportunity of meeting?” This was the thought running through my head all weekend.
I’m not talking about celebrities. I’m talking about regular people. Nice guys with great morals and strong ties to family and unwavering commitment to friends. I’m talking about people who don’t give a fuck about the life that I live, or the friends I’ve got, or what mistakes I’ve made in the past. Or, how the first impression might’ve gone; they’re interested in …the unknown.
But, I’m terribly shy and incredibly self conscious about walking into a meeting, a date or otherwise; knowing that I’ll have to strip myself of my walls, remove the bitch face, and let someone else get inside my head for a change. It’s daunting. To me. The idea of dating. The unknown, mostly.
Anyway, since October I’ve been doing my best to “get back out there.” And by that, I mean I’ve re-downloaded a few of the necessities: OkCupid, Tinder, Grindr, and the like. Thankfully there hasn’t been much action so I won’t feel bad omitting some of the juicy details. (I never publicize my dating life. I share enough! Ok?) The truth is, those apps really are more like Grubhub for dating than you’d think: You can order whatever you want, but once the meals over… it’s over. Just saying.