At 17

I’ve been away a while. There hasn’t been enough time to get everything done. The last two weeks, I haven’t had time to exercise, but I need to change that. I need to change a lot of things, starting with getting back to writing. That’s likely been part of my problem, because it used to be how I held onto my sanity, putting Happily Ever After stories together when my own wasn’t doing so well. lately I’ve let them both go, and that’s not a good thing.

Last night I tried a variety of speed dating. There was Ladies’ Choice and Guys’ Turn. When it was Ladies’ Choice, the women looked around the bar at the single men in attendance and picked one out to either dance with, talk to, or get a drink. The men couldn’t say no, and no one could pick the same partner twice. Then the men had their choice, and it alternated every fifteen minutes.

I didn’t want to go. I’d signed up months ago but when the time came, I dreaded it. Most of us were the last ones picked for sports in school, and I assumed this would be much the same. (Ever hear the song, “At 17”?)

I was right. Not once or twice. Three times, no one approached me. I didn’t stay long enough for a fourth try at rejection.

I stood out the first turn at Ladies’ Choice, because all the guys I thought might be interesting were already picked, and there were more women there than men. Instead I danced with some women, and we enjoyed ourselves just fine. The second and third times, I chose someone to talk to. Nice enough guys. I’m not sure I picked up on any chemistry, but I’m so rusty at that stuff, who knows if I have a clue what chemistry feels like anymore. I don’t remember what kissing feels like, and someone touched my back over the weekend and my world paused because I forgot what it feels like to make close contact with another human being.

But to have no one pick me three times? I wanted to go home and cry, or murder my ex for putting me in this position. Okay, so we weren’t happy, but at least when he was around, there was still the chance we could find happy again. Being in this spot, where not one out of 40 single men (of varying ages) found me interesting enough to ask me to dance…it feels hopeless.

I know it’s not. This was only my first try. You have to kiss a lot of frogs and all that. I’ve seen guys when I go running, and I see guys at the store or wherever I happen to be. No one’s found me interesting enough to even flirt or start a conversation. I know I’m not ugly. I’m not J-Lo either, but I’m not repulsive. I can be funny, and I’ve done enough things to keep up my end of a conversation.

But really? Not one in forty? No one?

At least I can write about it. Maybe something good will come of all this angst.