The other night I saw the movie, “He’s Just Not That Into You.” I know, I’m a little behind on my movies. I thought it was great. Not just because my hero, Jennifer Aniston is in it. But because I think it was a pretty accurate depiction of the shit singles go through. I commend whoever wrote it and am a little disappointed it wasn’t me.
The whole time I watched I couldn’t help but think how happy I am to be off the dating scene. Now, I’m not saying that in a condescending I’m married now way. I seriously thank my lucky stars those days are behind me. Because, in my dating days, I had some real doozies.
My friends and I had some belly laughs last weekend running through some of the stories. There was the guy I met at the gym who told me he had been married but wasn’t anymore. What he didn’t tell me until the first date was that it was because his wife had committed suicide about 60 days earlier. Did I want to come over for dinner in the house where she offed herself? No thanks. There was the guy I was set up with who seemed great the first few dates. Then when he thought he was closing in on “the kill” he thought telling me about his sexual escapades would be a turn on. Sorry, hearing about how you and your pal banged the same girl at the same time does nothing but disgust me.
How about the guy who got so sloshed over dinner he threw up in a dumpster on his way to his car? Or the guy who took me on a date in a stolen car? (I won’t go into detail on how I found out it was stolen.) Let’s not forget the hoarder whose car and apartment were packed to the roof with garbage. I’d have rather sat naked on a public toilet in Penn Station than clothed on his sofa. There was one who got the runs EVERY time we went out. There was the guy who always seemed so wide-eyed. Turns out his pupils were always dilated because he was on drugs. WTF. There were the guys who never called. Those who’d only text. And some who called incessantly. One left me a detailed message about how much of a catch he was and how I was making a HUGE mistake by not seeing him. He said if he didn’t hear back from me he’d take it that I wasn’t interested. I didn’t call back. He called again. Ug. There are many, many more that I can’t get into – I’m too embarrassed to even write about them.
Then after all that, when I’d had it with everyone and everything, after I’d drilled my millionth cigarette with my head in my hands and sworn off all men, along came Enzo. He’d been just a friend for years after my brother initially introduced us. I’d tell him some of my horrible dating stories. He’d tell me some of his and about his own offenses. He’d try to explain why guys do the things they do and turns out the motivation was usually the same. I remember my friend Amanda telling me several years back that I should date him. “ENZO??? Are you crazy??? He’s just a friend and besides most of the time he irritates me!” You know what she said? She said, “Mon, you’re gonna marry him.” How the hell did she call that???
From the beginning, he was different than anyone else I’d ever been with. It sounds cliche, I know, but everything was effortless. We started as friends so we skipped the awkward getting to know you period. He called when he said he would. He said and did nice things – not to impress me but just because that’s how he was. There were none of the usual games on his part or mine. No waiting 3 days to call, waiting 1 day to call back, scheduling dates at least 5 days in advance, blah, blah. He made his intentions clear and he followed through. Within three months of dating we were engaged and nine months later, we were married – on the anniversary of our first “real” date.
I’m glad for the dating experiences I had and for all the jerks, misfits and weirdos I came across. I really am. They made Enzo stick out like a sore thumb as the one and left me with some hilarious stories. At the time, I thought they were signs I’d die a spinster. But looking back I see they were all just stepping stones on my way to happily ever after.