Date Number Four: The Younger Guy

After a bit of a dry spell (is two days of no dating a dry spell?), I decided to stir up trouble for myself and went online to see what kind of guys I could meet via online dating services. My first stop was with Craigslist, because it's free and weird, and I'm weird so perhaps I could meet a good guy through it after all.

I posted an ad and then waded through a ton of bad e-mail responses. Half of the guys didn't send a picture, couldn't write or spell, and the ones who did were in their 40's and out of my date-able age-range. I even got a few replies asking "Are you real? If you are, send me a pic and I'll send one back." Not likely, jerkwad. I posted the ad, so you send a pic and write a few coherent sentences. Dem's da rules. Otherwise, no deal. My ad specifically said that I do not do drugs and would not date someone who does and my favorite response was, "I'm 420 friendly. Is that cool?"

So after sifting through bad responses, I decided to take the initiative into my own hands and started browing through the Men looking for Women section. I only answered one ad since it was not:

A. a guy looking for a one night stand
B. a guy looking to date with the possibility of a one-night stand
C. a guy talking about the size of his package or posting pictures of his package - ew!

"Greg" and I exchanged quite a few e-mails (and we seemed to click somewhat before we decided to meet up at a bar in Hell's Kitchen. He was as cute as his pictures suggested and he even had a bit of a bad boy aura to him, with his tattoos and motorcyle-riding ways (plus a point for Fonzie like coolness). BUT, he was younger than me, oh so much younger (minus a point for being a younger guy), which he conveniently never mentioned in his ad. I mentally kicked myself for forgetting to ask his age in our e-mails. He was 23 years-old in fact, the exact same age as my ex. After having two long-term relationships with younger men fail horribly (the stuff of FAIL Blog.com - ha!), I was over dating younger guys but the allure still lingered. Youthful, charming, funny, and generous, younger men were, and still are, fantastic dates and boyfriends. On the other hand they're focused on their careers, unable to commit, unsure of who they are and their place in the world. I was not ready to get involved with a younger guy again.

I put aside my apprehensions and decided to just go with the flow and have a fun night out. If things worked out, great, if not then, oh well. "Greg" turned out to be very mature and cool and bought our drinks all night. We talked about his amazing childhood as an army brat in Korea (plus a point for having lived an awesome life) and I countered back with my bookishness and my unhealthy obsession with will.i.am from the Black Eyed Peas. Having lived most of my life in New York, I couldn't really compare my adventures to his but he didn't seem to mind. All in all, we got along really well and after many, many drinks, we wandered up to the Taco Box near Columbus Circle for tacos and burritos.

I, however, failed to consider the negative side effects that hot salsa could have on my gastrointestinal tract because I kept tasting tacos long into the wee hours of the morning. Thank god I wasn't burpin' or tootin' away, that would have been embarrassing, but the taste of freakin' tacos stayed with me when we ventured into the park. All I could think of was that one episode of South Park where Cartman pretends that his hand is a singer named Jennifer Lopez. This fake "Jennifer Lopez" meets Ben Affleck and, while they're kissing, Ben Affleck says, "Oh Jenny, your kisses taste like tacos!"

When we kissed, I kept hearing Cartman's falsetto singing "taco-flavored kisses". Dude, totally not how I wanted to be remembered. I would forever be the "taco-girl" in my mind, and perhaps his if he could taste it on my breath. "Greg" was sweet and nice and there was nothing slobbery or gross about his kisses but there was also no spark. Zip, zilch, nothing whatsoever. Whatever is necessary to fan the flames or arouse my interest was entirely missing. To me, it seemed like just two mouths meeting out of loneliness. Plus the taste of tacos.

So you can meet a normal, nice guy through Craigslist. Maybe I'm just old and jaded, sad and lonely, but after my date with "Greg" I started wondering where everything was headed. Why am I dating? What's the point of meeting guy after guy if I never experience the ever elusive 'spark'? I started wondering whether I even wanted to date, whether it's better to date or to slowly suffocate myself with Haagen Daaz and red velvet cupcakes, until I'm fat and old and at least happy being alone, rolls and chub surrounding me like a blanket. I know some fat and old people who are perfectly happy in their relationships. How come they get to find love and I don't?

I was starting to wonder if there is any magic left in the world at all.