WHY DO YOU DATE

So folks, Betsy is trying something relatively new—dating. I’ve been a terrible dater, making me habitually single. There wasn’t even a reason (i.e. not meeting men, being asked out); I just didn’t date. Lovelies, that’s about to change.

I’m working on a new project centered on relationships/dating and as part of the research, I’ll be going on bonafide dates. And, some folks have already cosigned this social experiment so holler if you’re down to participate.

My story: I met a fellow recently and went out with him for three reasons: he had an accent (a plus in my book), I had free time, and he had a luxury vehicle. The latter is shallow, oh-so-shallow, but I wanted so ride around in a ride instead of antiquated mass transit, especially late at night when there is always construction. I wasn’t trying to husband-up the dude; just have a good time. And folks, don’t front like you’ve never gone out with someone just because they had a _____ (fill in your answer here).

Anyway, when we met, he was amicable. Ditto for phone conversations, though they were more on the pleasantly parched side. Still, I went out with him giving him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps, he’s not a phone person, I thought, trying to justify the doldrums attached to speaking with him. I should have known something was up when he couldn’t even make a decision as to where he wanted to meet. He said, “Downtown.” Where the heck is that? I’m not a hooker or a police officer on patrol. After much teeth pulling, he came up with a specific location. We linked and were off. Ol’ boy made a restaurant suggestion, presenting it with such flourish that it was almost impossible to decline—but you know I did—so I offered up another suggestion and went somewhere I knew I could at least get a good meal.

Besides the fact that he rolled up shades when we met at 9 p.m., which I thought was to impress me, ol’ boy kept them on throughout dinner as well. Perhaps I missed the night-sun memo. But wait, the date became better when he invited his homeboy to join us. LOL. And he accepted the offer so you know what happens? I start thinking I would rather be on the date with him (not that I was bowled over by him but at least he was without shades in the dark and seemed more relaxed). As I dined with ol’ boy, my thoughts alternated between writing this blog and going back to the restroom to text this other fellow ☺ I felt like good girl gone bad.

Eventually the date ended when I had ol’ boy drop me off at a friend’s birthday soiree. He totally wanted to join me, but since I didn’t know what to expect of the party and didn’t want to spend any more time with him, a great big hug ended the evening. Now it’s time to delete his contact info.

Got a story to share? Holler.

Lata Lovelies
-Betsy “Baller” Ice