I was riding the train on Wednesday, traveling to watch the Blackhawks game. Normally I wear my ear buds while utilizing the CTA because I hate talking to people. Obviously I also enjoy listening to my music, but mostly it's because I don't want people to think I want to chat. It's the same reason I wear a hoodie, sunglasses and my headphones whenever I fly. I want people to avoid me in case I might have robbed a 7/11. But my hoodie is race swag with a cup of hot cocoa on it and my sunglasses are bright blue so I'm not suspicious enough to be pulled out of the security line for a cavity search, thank god. However, for whatever reason, on this particular train ride, I decided to set aside my ipod and listen to the world.
The regulars were all there: the DePaul gal who was gossiping into her Kate Spade covered iphone, the tourists heading north to take a picture of Wrigley, other Hwks fans heading out to watch the game, and a handful of other randoms. No homeless lady with 8 black garbage bags or drunk frat boys trying to lead the entire train in a chorus of "Hit Me, Baby (One More Time)". It was as normal as red line rides go. As I'm riding, I notice a man and a women, probably in their mid-late 40s, sitting next to each other. I start to wonder about them, write their story in my head. The train wasn't full, so there wasn't a need for two strangers to sit so close. They looked like they might have some familiarity but the woman had her bag held close to her chest and the man was leaning forward with his arms on the back of the seat ahead of him, looking out. Body language is very interesting. So at this point I was having a good time trying to figure out if they were maybe married but in a fight, or had been walking around the city all day and were super tired, or if they were friends or what. I decided on "married" and for a second it felt nice knowing they were comfortable just riding the train without a need to fill the silence. How nice. I noticed, then, the man had no ring on. I'm surprised it took me so long because I have become a semi-professional at spotting any sign of jewelry on a man's left hand. I decided he had a wedding ring, but his knuckles had grown too large for him to put it back on so he just kept it in his wallet or something equally as romantic. I had a beautiful fantasy of their relationship in my head, which is why the next string of events hurt my soul.As the train was pulling up to the stop, the man turns to the woman and says, "Well. It was...nice to, uh, have dinner and drinks with ya. Sorry I, uh, I wasn't better company." And she shook her head in a way that said "It's fine" on the surface but really meant "I hate this." Then he said, "I guess, gimme a call or email in a couple days or...something" and he gave a very strange wave, like the way you would wave at a baby, and got off the train.
So here I am, in my rose-colored glasses, assuming these two are happily married and probably have a couple kids and they ride the train home from work every day together when it actually turned out that it was just another awkward first date. That poor woman. My heart broke for her. What did that mean "Sorry I wasn't better company"?? After he was gone I watched as she tried to shake off whatever the heck had just happened in her life. Perhaps showing the generational gap, it took her a full 2 minutes to pull out her phone. I would have been on my Samsung the second the train started to move again. I imagine, when she finally grabbed her phone, she was either mass texting all of her friends who wished her "Good luck!" on the date or was deleting her match.com account. Because that absolutely had to be an online date meet-up.
That's when the panic attack started. Because, you guys, DATING NEVER GETS BETTER. It doesn't matter what age you are, first dates are the worst. Dates are the worst. Even the prospect of free food and drinks does not make it worth it. And I LOVE free food and drinks. It's one of my favorite things in the entire world, but it does not make sitting through forced small talk worth it.
I'm not a dating expert. I have not been on hundreds of dates. My Date Count is on the low side for people my age, but if I had to guess, I'd say this is why. It's the same reason I look like a fugitive on the run at airports. Small talk makes me sick to my stomach. If you ask me where I went to school and follow it with "Can you believe this weather?" I will puke on you. That kind of conversation is dead to me. There have been so many people that I have met and right away we are joking and laughing and talking about how Anne Hathaway could fit an entire cantaloupe in her mouth.So I know it's possible. Small talk is not a necessity. I know, I hear what you're thinking and I know. There have been thousands of dates where people have moved past the small talk into real conversation, otherwise no one would be in a relationship. But can you just understand what I'm saying?!
I hate complaining about boys, lack of boys. About my singleness. There are just so many other things in my life that are more important to me and boohoo everyone has relationship problems so move on. But as a single girl, livin' in the city, who also writes a blog, I am allowing myself one post. I blame you. You asked for it. "Erin! Please write more!" "Erin! Your blog is amazing!" "Erin! Stop keeping your brilliant thoughts to yourself! The world needs to know!" You'd be surprised how many people have said these things to me. Well, guess what, my dear blog fans, I'm gonna post what's on my brain, and here' what it is. BAM.
.....I don't know how this post got so sassy but I'm not sorry. All I'm saying is, I don't know want to go on a first date when I'm 50. And that is that.
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