Pathetic excuse for a date

I admit, every once and awhile...

i.e. when my friends are gushing about their fantastic love lives, getting engaged, getting married, making little alien babies, and having more one night stands than Ashley furniture....

every once and awhile, I feel a little lonely.

Sometimes when this incredible bout of depression hits, I feel desperate. Enter: online dating. Best of all, I refuse to pay for this version of personal therapy, so I'm on a free site. Let's just say I will not commit to paying to go on a date because this way, I have better stories. Right? Right.

So recently, one of these little bouts of depression hit. Probably after being slighted numerous times when meeting groups of guys at the bar who would rather try to hook up with my obviously taken friends than the slutty, drunk version of me.

Anyhow, I agreed to meet this guy for happy hour in a public location so I would be heard if I screamed bloody murder. 7:30 happy hour???? Whatever, this guy doesn't have a clue about day drinking. So I agree for a Thursday night adventure. We agreed to this about a week and a half before the actual date. Then, out of nowhere he "deleted" his profile from the website - which meant I couldn't contact him to tell him it creeped me the fuck out or that I had other plans. Of course, I didn't have other plans, and my friends convinced me I should go because "what if he's the man of your dreams" or some other bullshit.

So I went, not remembering what he looked like (and not being able to do research since he deleted his profile), not having his phone number (because I have a strict "nobody gets in my phone before they get in my pants" rule), and pretty much a shitty attitude about the whole thing.

Showed up promptly at 7:20. Sat near the door until 7:30. Moved to the bar at 7:30, ordered a beer, and looked around, trying to see if there was a glimmer of recognition with any of the guys around. None. Paid for my tab at 7:40, left the bar at 7:45. I WAIT FOR NO ONE.

So yes, there you have it. I got fucking stood up by a guy whose name was "singing nerd", chose fucking Creed as his ultimate karaoke song, and was in a band that played at the Renaissance Festival. Never have I ever had such low self esteem.

And there you have it. Bitter with baggage seeks same.