What I hated most about it was the game...the gimmicky bait and twist aspect of it all.
The make up and heels and maybe I am interested and it is my job to make you interested even if I am not to prove that I am worth something to myself and others game.
I am talking about dating of course.
And, ofcourse, I never played it like that. I was more a knee high boots and a grimace and I don't fucking care if you call me tomorrow sort of player, but I guess, in the end, I played it, if somewhat poorly, none the less.
The thing I could never get around were the subtextual rules. On the surface it should have been obvious that we were all just there to meet new people and hopefully someone we could love or like and make new friends and lovers.
But there was always something more than that, because where egos are fragile other agendas were bound to brew. And for every lovely (or not so lovely, lets be honest) person just looking to interview and select a new partner or friend, there were others looking for followers, looking for fans.
And so I find myself in the dating game once again.
Only it is different this time. It is the new mom dating game where we try to meet and greet and seduce new moms into being your new BFFs so you have someone to call in the middle of the night when your kid won't sleep or someone to meet at the park and drink beer out of coffee mugs while wave at your adorable littles (actually, I have never done, that, but now I am wonderying whhhyyyy)
And this is just as hard, because what I lack in charm I make up for in breastilage, and in the past that got me about as far as I can go.
But lets face it, in this new crowd cleavage only goes so far (hell, all new moms have cleavage, right, if even for a scant time) and figuring out what will bond and amuse is even farther as we discuss strollers and baby carries and books and naptimes.
But what gets me still are the collectors, the prancers, and the namecard carriers.
For every well exposed set of legs that stole the show back in the day there are now the high end diaper bags and DIY wraps and hand made snacks that show you are even more super mom than the rest. And these people aren't looking for friends. They aren't looking for kindred spirits to soar and topple with, to gossip with and to show up, at the park, in yesterdays clothing and some whacked out hair and a gallon of coffee while they giggle as their kids toddle about the yard. They are looking for fans. Admirers of their parenting style and accomplishments.
But like a singles club it is hard to resist their lure as they collect your number and throw it on the pile and you wonder: was a genuine collection made or is this mom just looking for another name to know, another person to wave to in a group... and, worse, it is hard not, just a bit, to compete with creatures, dressing your baby just so, feeding them organic snackies and showing just how much you care.
So here is the thing. I am looking for love. And maybe a few one night stands. Metaphorically, of course.
I don't need any fans and I need, even less, someone to envy and emulate.
You'll find me at the play yard. Amazing beautiful ridiculous toddler climbing everything and anything as I try to stop her while not spilling my coffee and keeping most of her clothing on. That is me, and I'm not much to look at, but my intentions are pure.