Come Here Often?

So, how do “normal” people meet a potential mate, or even less exclusive, a potential steady date companion? I tried something a little different today (at the encouragement of an acquaintance), and wound up feeling awkward, out of place, disappointed and less than entertained.

Okay, it’s quite clear to me that going out to a club/bar/public event to meet a girl is outdated and not really the best way to find a partner to stick around with for any decent length of time (unless, of course, clubbing is all you want to do and are looking for similar). However, when chatting with or approaching girls I bump into on the street, sometimes I get some of the oddest responses. While it may be true that sometimes I am interested in the girl, and would like an opportunity to see her again, this is not always the case. Yes, ladies, sometimes I am just genuinely being nice. You would think, though, that by the way some women respond to me doing the simplest of gestures, I would have just grabbed their butt, pulled them to me, laid a big kiss on their mouth and asked them to come back to my place. And yes, the reaction I get sometimes just for simply opening a door for a lady seems to convey (to her at least) that I am expecting a one-night stand in return. I am well-aware that a woman is perfectly capable of opening a door for herself. However, let’s put the feminist garbage aside and just take it for what it is: I was just being a gentleman, nothing more.

So, the question becomes, how to meet a potential dating partner? On this day, I was talked into attending a “singles’ Thanksgiving luncheon,” where there would be food and “fellowship.” Something about this said “fail” to me, but allowed the frequent invites from an acquaintance to talk me into (reluctantly) attending.

Failure #1 : Invite said “Fellowship Hall, @ 12:15”

Well, that’s fine and dandy, but when I went to where I thought the fellowship hall was, there were mostly people there who were old enough to be my grandparents, as well as children. So, I wandered around this so-called “church,” which was more like a compound to me, trying to find a sign (besides lightning from the heavens) telling me where to go. After seeing no such place, I retraced my steps to the other location to ask directions. Remember the place with the elderly people and children? That was the “singles’ fellowship.” Ugh. I have sworn to kill the guy who invited me.

Failure #2: Name Badges

It’s already bad enough that they actually took the time to use our RSVP’s to print out computer-generated name tags for us to stick on our shirts, but mine said “Bradon.” Never mind the fact that my former friend was the head of this event – the least they could do is get my name right! Now what was I supposed to do? Scratch it out and rewrite it? Not wear it? Try to modify it? No matter what I did, I would look like an idiot, so I decided to be Bradon for an hour. Ugh.

Failure #3: Seating Assignments

Upon receiving (incorrect or correct) name tags, each of us were assigned a table number, so that there would be a nice mix of ages and genders. Supposedly, they were placing people around your age at your table, with as close to an equal amount of girls to guys as possible. When I found my table, 2 items immediately caught my attention: 1) the round tables they had set up were set for 2 more people than the they were comfortably meant to hold – this placed all of us, literally, touching one another and not having any leg space; 2) the ratio at our table of age and guys to girls had either been (deliberately?) overlooked or thrown to the wind: 7 guys, one girl, with various ages, even: some men could be my dad, some could be grandpa! There was only one guy my age, and while the girl at the table was about my age, there was a large centerpiece that blocked our view of each other, so even if she had been the knockout of a century, I would not have been able to carry on any non-comical conversation with her. Table fail x infinity. Ugh.

Failure #4: Awkward Moments

As if the previously mentioned items aren’t enough awkwardness already…when it came time for my table to get in line for our lunch, many people had decided to bring their children (or in some cases, grandchildren – and I’m not kidding), so they were mixed into our lines as well. There was an elderly lady immediately behind myself, so I opened the way and asked her to come ahead of me. She recognized my politeness, thanked me, and moved ahead. After she had taken her plate, and then I took mine behind her, a runt of about 8 years old shoved into me and stepped between us, effectively cutting in line without so much as an excuse me. He proceeded to grab at things that the elderly lady was already trying to put on her plate. Having a daughter myself, I became angry at this child’s display of disrespect and lack of discipline. I thought that perhaps this was her grandson, but then I heard someone from several places behind me in line call his name to come back to her. The boy, of course, did exactly what most children seem to do nowadays: he completely ignored her and continued to try and pull the utensils away from the older lady. Rather than coming to get her son and correct him, his mother proceeded to raise her voice, much to my annoyance. The whining correction finally frustrated the boy and embarrassed him enough so that he let out a loud sigh and stomped back to where his mother was. The mother went immediately back to yapping with a friend about some unimportant holiday shopping event for Black Friday. Ugh.
#2 – As I was grabbing a piece of pie, I saw someone at another table that I knew: a professor and friend at my local university, who is, for all purposes, pretty much old enough to be my grandfather. Having made eye contact, I could not hide myself, so I went over to say hi and shake his hand.

So, the question remains for me: why is it so hard to meet an intelligent, funny, open-minded, sincere and unattached woman in this world? I know that they are there, but it seems that the more I try to find one, the more awkward, ridiculous, frustrating, and impossible it becomes.

Where is the button that turns off the part of me that says “I want a companion?”

-B.