Meeting Other Humans is Hard

It's so hard to meet someone.

We've all heard that phrase time and time again. I often wonder where people find their special person. I feel like half my friends met their significant others on dating apps    the others either met them in school or in a bar. None of those options have turned out well for me.

My boyfriends in college didn't work out. Clearly.

I've tried the online dating thing. That's four months of my life I will never get back and years of therapy I will never be reimbursed for.

And the guys in bars? Meh. I'd rather not. I'm a different person when I'm inebriated, and I don't feel like starting something new on the basis of a lie.

Speaking of lie...

Another reason I don't want to meet a guy in a bar? They are fucking idiots.

So I went out tonight, for a girls night. It was actually really fun. There was live music and we were definitely dancing like no one was watching. So I meet this guy, and he's younger than me but really cute and knows how to shag dance so I go with it. He called it swing dancing by the way. He was under the impression that shagging meant what it did in the UK and thought I was propositioning hm within the first few minutes of meeting him. Maybe that's where everything went wrong.

So we dance and flirt and it's fun. I feel like it's been so long since I flirted with someone. I introduce myself, and he introduces himself. His name is Stephen, and he's from Georgia. A nice Southern boy! It's been so long since I met one of those around here! Everything is fine and dandy. We continue talking, and then I leave to talk to my other friend. I come back and the boys are whispering. I ask my friend who is standing there what'g going on, and she informs me that Stephen thinks I lied about my name.

Um, what.

Why would I lie about my name yet keep talking to him? Also, why I would lie and say my name is Marshall?

So, I ask him about it. He said that he doesn't know me (fair) and that girls also lie about their names (also, fair). I admitted that both these things were true, yet that most girls who lie about their names don't keep hanging out with that person.

However, he still didn't believe me, and asked to see my ID.

I was baffled. Like, why would I still lie about my name, and why would someone try so hard to prove me wrong. At this point, both he and his friend thought I was lying. Apparently, when I introduced myself I smiled and looked away and this seemed sketchy to them.

I was so perplexed and so annoyed, and I wanted to prove them wrong so I showed them my ID. They honestly studied it for a straight minute. Then, after all that, Stephen tried to tell me my middle name was my first name. I quickly disproved his theory.

After all this awkwardness, he gave me a half ass, fake sincere apology. That I partially accepted.

During all of this, my friend is still flirting with his friend and who am I to rain on her parade. They asked us to go to another bar, and I could tell my other friends wanted to go so I agreed. Once we are at the other bar, I'm talking to Stephen's friend. I'm not flirting with him, but I'm bored and talking to him about murder mystery shows because why not. And then Stephen walks up and asks "what my deal is." I'm confused and asked him what he means. He rambles on about how he is a "straight forward guy." I told him I didn't have a "deal" and was just out with my friends for fun.

If you can't tell, the conversation isn't going smoothly and I'm turing into the ice cold bitch everyone thinks I am. He finally accepts that I'm just out for a girls' night, and I don't have an ulterior motive.

Then, when I don't think the conversation with this bozo can get any worse, he tilts the neck of his beer bottle near my neck and goes, "you didn't do a very good job of covering up that hickie."

Well, first of all, you fucktard. it's a birthmark. You insensitive fuck.

When I tell him it's a birthmark, he once again accuses me of lying.

Is it just me, or has maybe this guy been burned in the past?

I turn to my friends and ask them what the mark on my chest is. ML calls it a "rashy thing" and MS says "she's had it since I've known her."

So once again he gives me a half ass apology that I partially accept but not really because he's a giant fuck, and I can't wait to never talk to him again.The night doesn't last much longer after, and for that I am grateful.

However, now once I'm home, I'm kind of sad. How am I expected to meet someone? Guys in bars think I'm lying about my name and flaunting a hickie? I'm out of college, and dating apps aren't my thing.

I'm not looking to date someone now, but maybe sometime in the far off future? I don't know.

Finding someone is hard.

And that's all I know.