Friday, January 2, 2009

Who Needs a Benadryl?

Since the powers that be decided that I hadn't spent enough time cooped up in my condo in the last month, I woke up from my post-ride nap yesterday with scratchy throat and a leaky nose. The first signs of the inevitable on-coming head cold. I cancelled my happy hour plans and crawled back into bed, hoping that a tea/echinachea/vitamin overload might derail the virus.

Nope. Spent today in bed or on the couch, watching Law & Order SVU re-runs and consuming gallons of fluid. Pretty much feel like I got hit by a bus. I could blame Beth, or my mom, or the lady that sneezed in my face in Starbucks Wednesday morning. But I can't imagine that my body had a whole lot in it to fight a virus, not after 30 days of emotional meltdowns, binge drinking and sleep deprivation. I can only hope I feel better as quickly as it took me to get sick.

The USA network (home of of the SVU marathon) has sold a lot of evening commercial time to dating websites. This has got me thinking about dating. And how much I hate it. And how I'm eventually going to have to do it again. Damn it all to hell.

Dating has always been difficult for me. I've always been horrible at small talk and don't look like the gals that get picked up in coffee shops and bars.

Its not going to get any easier in the coming year. Many of the new people that I'll meet in the next six months will be Team in Training participants. I can't date any of them. I'm not a meet-people-in-bars-person. Not that I actually stay up late enough to get out bar-hopping. My schedule will be packed with things that requiring going to bed and getting up early...coaching, class, rides, work. I don't do online dating. I'm busy, no-nonsense and looking for a long-term relationship. And have developed some not insubstantial trust issues. It'll be an uphill battle, no doubt about that.

I know so many wonderful, beautiful single women. So many of them are looking for exactly what I'm looking for. And struggling. When you get to a certain age (say, early 30's) it feels like all of the good ones are spoken for and, for the ones that aren't--there is a usually a reason. Don't I know about that-so much so that I could probably teach a course on men that should be bagged and tagged before being sent back out into the wild.

So I will be walking a fine line between optimism and cynicism in the next few months. With an open mind, but not necessarily an open heart.

May the force be with me.

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