Date Bait

Tonight I went to Date Bait. I’d wanted to do this for a while, and tonight they were having one for guys in their 20s and 30s, so I decided to go. I wrote down a few things about myself beforehand. What I really mean is that I printed out my PlanetOut personal ad and wrote down some of the same things on a separate sheet of paper.

There were 48 guys. A few relatively attractive ones. One of them was someone I’d met at Twentysomething the other night, this cute bespectacled blond guy from Wales. Anyway, we all sat on chairs in a big circle. We took turns going around the room, each guy having up to a minute to speak about himself into a microphone before passing the mike to the next guy. Some people were witty, some people seemed sort of boring, some people seemed like ordinary human beings. Nobody really said anything pathetic, like they did when RJ attended, but there were some good lines. One guy said, “I’m not very physically active. I like the idea of physical activity.” That got a good laugh. Then there was this guy who seemed kind of charming but ended his very short speech by saying, “And I’m a total bottom boy.” That got another laugh, the kind of laugh where people are amused and stunned at the same time.

The microphone got to me faster than I’d expected. Oh, shit. I stood up, feeling kind of nervous. I didn’t have my piece of paper with what I wrote down, because I thought it would look stupid, but I wound up saying most of what I intended to say anyway. It was really strange listening to my voice through the speakers. And unfortunately I didn’t say anything very exciting. I was just laid-back and intelligent and sincere, and perhaps sort of boring-sounding. I should have come prepared with a few funny lines.

Finally we got to the last guy, who I’d thought looked a little familiar for some reason. He said his name and began to speak, and I realized who it was. It was Steve! You long-time readers might remember Steve. He was the creepy non-date who wound up costing me $8.50 back in January. (If you haven’t read that far back, or want to be reminded, the Steve saga begins here and continues here, then here, and finally concludes here. What a fiasco that whole thing was.)

Anyway, the introductions ended, and then we had 30 minutes to mingle. I talked to various people, some whose numbers I’d already written down and some whose numbers I hadn’t. At one point I went upstairs to use the bathroom and accidentally dropped my as-yet-unmarked computer card into the wet bathroom sink, so I had to get another one. I also talked to the Welsh guy for about 30 seconds — he recognized me and said hi. Then there was this other guy, with very very big glasses, straight out of Nerdville circa 1983. His glasses weren’t the problem, though. When I told him I worked in Newark, he said, “Oh, there are a lot of black people there, right?”

Finally it was time to fill in our little computer cards with the numbers of the guys we were interested in. I was really only interested in one, the Welsh guy. But I put down nine people altogether, some of whom seemed attractive and some of whom I thought it might be fun to at least talk with further.

Before we got our results, the organizer said that of the 48 people, 62 percent got matches and 38 percent did not. Steve wound up being one of the volunteers who handed out the results. I was in his line. I didn’t even look at him as I got my piece of paper. It read: “Sorry, #031 you have no matches today.”

Ouch.

I’m sure Steve was laughing on the inside.

So, yay. I was one of the 18 guys who didn’t get any matches, instead of one of the 30 guys who did. I nonchalantly walked back to my seat, picked up my bag, and nonchalantly walked out. I was so nonchalant that I was practically whistling a little tune as I walked out of the room. But on the inside I felt like the kid at camp who doesn’t get any mail while all the other kids are tearing open their care packages.

I walked down Hudson Street feeling all pissed off and embarrassed and worthless. Of course, the organizer had made clear beforehand that if you were to get no matches, it wouldn’t mean that nobody picked you. It just would mean that none of the guys that you picked picked you. But you know, I’d really been hoping for the Welsh guy. And maybe some others. Instead, this wound up being as useful as my PlanetOut ad. I haven’t had anyone respond to my ad in several weeks, even though I occasionally make a minor update so my ad will move back to the top of the list. (By “update” I mean that I insert a space, then delete the space, then hit “save.”)

This is making me think about what it is that I really want. I haven’t referred to someone as a “boyfriend” since April 1999, although I sort of dated someone long distance for a few months last spring. It’s been a year since there’s been a hint of anything. Do I really want to date someone? In theory, yes. But I’m rather picky. I’m not so unhappy being single that I’ll date someone just to date someone. I have an idea of what I want in a guy. If I don’t feel that spark with someone, why bother?

Could it be that I don’t really want to date someone? Could it be that I’m finding excuses, because I don’t want to sacrifice my independence and freedom right now? I don’t know. But I really need to rethink my whole approach to the dating scene.

And what about the reverse — why don’t people express an interest in me? I’m not talking about those of you who read my blog. Several of you have told me that I’d make someone a great boyfriend, that I really deserve someone good, that I’m a great guy, et cetera, et cetera. Some of you have still believed this even after meeting me in person, so I know I don’t give off a foul smell or an evil aura or something.

It could be that the great qualities I have are qualities that aren’t apparent immediately. I’m shy, and much of my goodness is deep within me. Which makes me think, you know, the same could be true for lots of those other guys out there. Perhaps a compatible person was at Date Bait tonight, but I didn’t pick him, because of his looks, because of his occupation, because of whatever.

Like I said, I need to rethink my whole approach to the dating scene. Or maybe not? Perhaps I should hold onto my standards and keep looking for that spark with someone. After all, there are still lots of guys out there whom I haven’t met, and I’ve still got lots of looking to do. And after all, the spark is important.

Isn’t it?

What do you experienced relationship folks think?