As a single girl living in Las Vegas, I know that this is Sin City. But amidst all the gambling, drugs and booze, one sin stands out as the most unjust: Good girls can’t find good guys to date!
After several years of trying, I’ve all but given up. I’ve met every sleazy VIP host, “promoter,” bartender, dealer, car-parker and bad magician this city has to offer, and I’m not interested. I’ve also encountered tourists from all walks of life, from all over the world—and none of them set my heart aflutter.
In all fairness, I probably didn’t make them see stars, either: I’m not a big-chested cocktail waitress who has been bleached-blonde and spray-tanned to perfection. I have a brain and like to use it from time to time, which apparently is generally frowned upon in these parts. I just don’t have patience to put up with the bullshit that dating seems to require.
As it turns out, looking for a guy is hard work. The fairytales lied! Whatever happened to Prince Charming coming along, whisking me off my feet, and riding off into the sunset?
What. Ever. I’m over it! And I have my own castle, thankyouverymuch (well, for now, at least—this mortgage crisis isn’t over yet). I don’t need Prince Charming to save me from anything. Still, it sure would be nice to have someone to share this crazy life with.
I was having lunch with another reluctantly single girlfriend a few weeks ago when she hit the nail on the head: “Dating is hard work, but I already have a full-time job!”
This resonated with me because a) she’s right: Dating is tough and time-consuming and exhausting! and b) it IS a full-time job.
So I got to thinking: What if I were to treat dating like a full-time job and dedicate time and serious effort to finding Mr. Right? Let’s face the facts: I shop for the right handbag or high-heel shoes with more gusto than I do for the man of my dreams (!).
This needs to change… I have enough purses and expensive footwear. I’ve never expected a perfect pair of Louboutins (or even Monolos!) to fall out of the sky and into my closet; why would I expect a man to appear out of nowhere and knock me off my feet?
And so it was decided: I would take on a second job in effort to make ends—or, in this case, heart strings—meet. I’ll do it every day and give it my all, no matter how defeated I may feel.
The rules are simple:
– 30 days, 30 dates.
– No repeats—always a different venue, always a different guy. If I decide to do a repeat, I’ll have to do two dates in one day (one with a new guy, and another with the repeat) and, if someone stands me up, I’ll have to make up for it, too. If I can’t find a stand-in on short notice, that is.
– Leave no stone left unturned: speed-dating, online dating, newspaper classifieds, the local bar, the grocery store—you name it.
– Be safe: I’ll be sure to give a girlfriend every date’s name and phone number, always drive myself, check in with my safety net gf when I get home so she knows I’m OK, etc. etc.
… Essentially, I’ve decided to become a pick-up artist. For a month, starting now. For the sake of entertainment, hope and hunger (hey, a girl’s gotta eat! Why not let someone else foot the bill?). Oh, and humor, too—because I’m going to blog about my adventures (and misadventures) as I go, so all of you (whomever you are) can laugh and cry right along with me.
Do I think I’m going to find him? No, not really. But what do I have to lose? A bit of dignity? Maybe—but I hear even that grows back in time.