So it turns out that my brother’s Tinder-stranger date went well and was followed up with a second date that, I believe went equally as well. As one who rarely garners much attention from my oldest sibling, I’ve been jumping at the chance to learn more about his life by tapping into our new-found shared interest in dating. Unfortunately, as great as his date was, my date last night was pretty meh. My brother teased me about it (“you sure pick real winners, huh?”) and I defended myself (“I don’t pick them, they pick me. I just say yes to drinks!”) His response: maybe you should say “no” more.
I’ve been contemplating the concept all day. My recent rationale for serious serial dating has been that by increasing my number of dates, I’m increasing my chances of meeting someone interesting/funny/nice/handsome/charming/perfect (hah) Essentially, my habit of dutifully and diligently dating duds is just like picking up every piece of straw in the haystack until I finally find that needle. Or as the oh-so-brilliant Bright Eyes put it:
But I’d rather be working for a paycheck than waiting to win the lottery
To be fair, there are plenty of creepers out there that I say no to. But more on that to come shortly.