Taking Yourself Out On Dates.

There is a lot of pressure, especially in this society for people to couple with one another. The need to settle quick and fast, is what… I believe accounts for the high divorce rates nowadays.

As a twenty-five year old woman, and welcoming myself back into the dating scene… I don’t have a sense of urgency to settle, as I formerly did during my youth. For me, I do not need a man. I want a man. During courtship, if I am unappeased in any manner, or if any of my boundaries are crossed. I simply cut ties, and that’s it. I move on. There is no loss, for me. Continuing any further would be an ample waste of time for me, as well as energy. I’ve better things to do.

Although I had only just began, three years ago, working on myself as a person I see that there is still much work to do on myself. At the age of twenty-five… I view this as an optimal time. To do all of what I desire, to go to wherever I wish, to take up any hobby that my heart, well pleases! (piano and music theory) I am free to do what I wish. I’ve no obligations, no responsibilities and I am infinitely lucky. The time is ripe for myself.

And so, for the first time, I decidedly used my Sunday off to take myself out on a date.

I walked around the city, marveling at the beauty of the sights, smells, and cacophony emerging from… what could only be best described as an orchestral profession of crowds. The smell of singed meat on the BBQ stoves, the beautiful flowers, the children thrashing about in the communal pools, the skateboarding youth and joggers who added to the picturesque land-scape of my view. A strange calm came over me, as I strolled around observing people. I felt as if I were in a dream. Families, couples, and the odd homeless person or two graced my senses. Each with a story, only known to their sacred inner-circle. “People are just so infinitely interesting” I thought to myself. Some people had noticed me, and flashed me a smile. Some had even waved. A friendly gesture, which warmed my heart and yet… felt so strange. As soon as the exchange was made, the people would of course be quick to go about their businesses. I would become invisible again. Free to wander around, and admire the handiwork of this world without interruption. I felt as if I were god, generating and organizing this reality with my own filter of consciousness.

From all of my walking, I then had to add bandages to my blistered feet. My leather loafers bit into my heels, by way of my enthusiasm in covering as much of that portion of the city as possible. Whilst I tended to myself, an odd fellow approached me. Looking rather unsettled, he would point jarringly at my bandages and spit out nonsense that I couldn’t recollect. I would look past him, not acknowledging his presence. Signaling the vibe for him to back off. And much to my surprise, he did. I thought then “All of my working on myself is paying off…”

There upon. I had the opportunity to wander around my University. It was abandoned, after the Pandemic had led to a closure on many establishments. Doors were locked, the Campus empty… signs detailing the onslaught of fear and panic, with “Social-distancing” littering the expanse. The Café all boarded up, and chairs and tables, akin to a lifeless bodies stacked against its front wall. A complete ghost-town. And yet, in eying my reflection in the multitude of glass-panel windows and doors, I saw myself. Although I was physically alone, I didn’t feel that way. I enjoyed that echo of mine self, and I sunk deeply into the moment. I would dance, and tap my feet… allowing that impression of myself to follow suit. “We are both like puppets, on a Broadway stage… aren’t we?” All the while… the undulating, and familiar hums of “The Best Of Frederich Chopin” radiated from my noise-canceling headphones. Into my ears. Into my heart. Into my soul. The moment, through poignant imagery and sound now branded to memory. A sensation I desired to have again.

There upon. I attended a museum exhibit, and drunk in the sensual pleasures which resulted. The political commentary, the peppering of violence and sex in the displays–a common feature, no doubt in regard to contemporary art. I still remember that visual experience. That sensation. That emotion. I want it again… in writing this. And strangely enough, it was just me the entire time. Enjoying my own company. Enjoying my own time. I eyed couples who had also attended the exhibit. The museum exhibit, a common dating staple, to have poor fools who converse about their surroundings as opposed to each-other. Why is it, we are afraid to face one-another… yet we claim to love one-another? The cinema is a similar place. Stare at a screen. Do not bother about each-other.

My being solo had led me to reflect and observe these couples. Walking hand-in-hand, with much lust in their eyes, for one another. The giddy smiles, the queasy gestures. Their hands surfacing over the ‘designated’ places, where they ought to touch one another… their little conversations, that may later relegated to mere fluff. Ornamental, they felt to me. Yet, I felt compassion as I gazed down from the second floor, upon their little bobbing heads. Helpless fish, thrashing about. The curators, shuffling back and forth underneath to color that image with more ‘excitement’. Poor creatures… I wonder if they wonder what tomorrow may bring. I wonder if they wonder…

Wondering if you’re wondering, that I’m wondering… or perhaps to lead one to wonder again?

“How could they look so alone, even though they’re with one another?”

Was I envious? Strangely enough. No. In my being solo, there was no one to hurry me along, or annoy me with their banal conversation. I could take as long as I wished to truly enjoy what was on display. For it to leave a lasting impression. For this moment to be for myself, and no-one else. An instance of this rushing I had observed within those traveling in a pair of more, was that their attention was not theirs entirely. It was sacrificed for the good of those accompanying them. This revelation came upon me, when I saw that I was the last individual to sit through an entire Art film, whilst others had left. The raunchiness of the film, the absurdity. I saw it in their eyes. Glazed over. They were not attending to the piece. They were more fixated on others… and of course, themselves.

I came from being someone with little value of myself. I cared deeply to show compassion to others, at the cost of my own being… at the cost of my own character. My value was at their beck and call. From that moment, I realized I had changed. Now, I see that only some people are worthy of that tenderness. That softness. Not all. And that when people do things, there is no reason to get upset. People will do what they will do. I never had any say, or control over their agency in the first place. And why should I?

And I decided that the one who deserves that the most. Is me.

This is what it’s like huh?

Then I came to the conclusion:
“I can make beautiful memories with myself. And yet, I fooled myself for years and years thinking that my life will only begin when the right man enters the picture.”

I learnt that day, that I am just as happy and complete alone. I will take myself out on dates, anywhere I please from, now on.

There is no place, I won’t go to.

2 thoughts on “Taking Yourself Out On Dates.

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