Dating for Dummies

I sit here typing, my triple chocolate chip oatmeal cookies baking in the oven, and I am pondering the making of peppermint marshmallows, green tomato pickles and whatever other culinary delights may intrude upon my mind.  Why, you may ask?  Let me explain...

I am "that guy" that can throw together a batch of cookies together while getting ready in the morning.  And this is how a morning would look:

1. Make cookie dough and put batch of cookies in oven.

2. Shower (But no longer than the 8-10 minutes required to bake said cookies)

3. Pull cookies out of oven and transfer to rack (Burning hand and cursing, optional)

4. Put second batch in oven 

5. Brush hair, teeth and other essentials

6. Pull second batch out of oven (Burn and curse some more)

7. Dress

Aaaand, by the time my tie is tied, the cookies are cool enough to be bagged and foisted upon the ever expanding waistlines of my fellow drones, er, co-workers.

Today, on the other hand, I have to be busy doing something, ANYTHING, at this point to keep my mind occupied for the approximately 3 hours and 12 minutes until I am supposed to meet friends....and a blind date.  To be honest with y'all, in the words of one of my friends, it has been a "dry spell."  I don't date.  There are a multitude of reasons (read "excuses") why I haven't been dating.  I could blame it on the fact that I did not come out until I was in my late twenties and have a very religious family or the fact that the dating pool where I live is more shallow than the kiddie pool in the middle of the Sahara, but the truth of the matter is that I am petrified of dating.  I don't know about the rest of you, but the thought of trying to engage in conversation with someone that may or may not be the least bit interesting sounds about as much fun as watching Nascar.  (I know, some of you may be into that sort of thing, but, let's face facts, it's just a reason to sit on the couch and drink beer.)

I want to meet someone.  I really do.  I always grew up picturing the house with the picket fence; a place for friends to gather, family to enjoy... Cliché?  Perhaps, but it is something that I have dreamt of since I was a child.  In order for that to happen, though, I have to get out there and meet people.  (And, yes, Matt Bomer, I am still single.  Call me.)  The thought of putting myself out there for general inspection makes my stomach do Cirque du Soleil-esque contortions and, before long, I am sweating like Kirstie Alley on Dancing with the Stars.  This week, though, I had a few rather startling breakthroughs.  First, I am who I am.  If Mr. X doesn't like that?  Well, it really is his loss. Second, even if the date doesn't go well, at least I am making an effort and getting out there.  Those two things, my friends, are such massive steps for me, that I wonder where the strength came from to come to those conclusions.  You will get to know me better, as time progresses, and, perhaps, that statement will make more sense to you then.

Here's to looking back at this post in the future and remembering the fumbling words and awkward moments  until we all meet that special someone.  And, if you have already met that person, hold them close.  It is one of the most precious gifts in life.  Now, if you will excuse me, I have to figure out what the hell I am going to wear, decide on accessories, etc.  Trust me, it will take a while.

Wish me luck!
~Slo~