The dating game

"I don't even want a boyfriend.  I just want someone who wants to hang out all the time and thinks I'm the best person in the world and wants to be with only me." --Hannah from Girls

I don't know if there is universal plague among 20-somethings or if it's something about Californians or if I am buying the brand of shampoo that releases pheromones repellant to normal men, but being single in the Bay Area is like being a Mormon at a poker table--everyone else seems to know what they're doing (or at least can bluff), there are too many rules to keep track of and the chances of being dealt a good hand at the right moment are slim to none.

My standards are not unreasonably high, I'll give pretty much anyone at least a chance.  But the life-of-the-party types are usually gay, the fly-on-the-wall types are usually taken.  The Europeans are flirtatious but when they save your number in their phone by your physical features instead of your name, they come off as a little too... goal-oriented.  The grad students are interesting enough but their schedules are impossible.  (It also doesn't help that I live in the Peninsula--the armpit of the dating world.)

I don't mind the commute to the city for a date, but I cannot do long distance between Earth and the celestial world of intellectualism where many a San Franciscan reside.  "No, I haven't heard of [insert obscure indie band name here] either.  But keep asking, this is fun!  Tell me more about that time you read all of Tolstoy's novels on an airplane.  We could also talk about something that would not make me feel like an idiot, but then you'd have to walk down all those steps of your ivory tower... You're right, let's stick with game where I guess how many degrees you have!"

But even with a solid hand, a straight or a flush--a nice software developer at Google or a handsome business student from Greece--the odds of a win are still low when you don't know how to play the game.  Apparently, green canvas boots with a purple striped dress from Goodwill don't have the "sexy" vibe guys look for in a girl these days.  Who knew that commenting on the hotness of other women in the room might be an awkward conversation topic?  I am still trying to nail down the correct equation for appropriate text response time post initial encounter: TRT = (Average response rate ÷ number of texts/day) x (number of smiley faces as a percentage of number of winky faces).   No one ever told me that dance moves stolen from a full body workout video probably isn't the best way to nonverbally communicate romantic interest.  They just console me after it's all blown over, "Forget about him, he had no personality."


I always ask the "How'd you meet?" question when I meet coupes--the cute ones, not the obnoxious ones--because the variety of responses fascinate me.  Almost invariably, the stories starts with "It was pretty random..."  The best  ones take place on trains or at bus stops or in lines at the grocery store (if you believe in that sort of thing).

Perhaps the proper metaphor for this whole business isn't poker but a game of craps.  Just casting dice.