The Thing About Dating

I believe in being honest.
Even when what you are honestly feeling is not warm-and-fuzzy-fresh-out-of-the-oven-cookie-goodness.

Truth is: I'm tired of dating.
Don't tell me it's a good problem to have, because trust me- I've been on the other side of the spectrum and I know how that goes, too. But honestly? I am rather burnt out. 
It's like that feeling you get after you've been in Bath & Body Works for a while. You remember you told yourself you just wanted one thing- and you "already had an idea of what you were looking for" so it wouldn't take too long. But they were having a sale... With a new seasonal collection... You had a little extra cash to spare... Your hands were feeling especially dry... The cute store girls were really nice...etc.

So you perused. You weren't in a rush and they have tons of merchandise, so you knew you could afford to be picky. You took your time and you started playing with all the "try me" bottles. They were all okay... but with each flirtatious squirt you didn't know if you really wanted to smell like that one thing every day for the rest of your life (or at least the next few months.) So you kept browsing...

Twenty samples later, you realize you have lost the ability to smell. Your hands are slippery and moist after going through rows of lotion bottles. Your neck, forearms and shirt are saturated with a dozen different body sprays. You thought you knew what you wanted but now you can't tell the difference between Cozy Autumn Vanilla, Warm Vanilla Sugar or Vanilla Bean Noel. Suddenly, all you want to do is get out of the store- get out of the whole mall- faster than you can say, "Juniper Breeze."

I have this dream that a year or so from now, I will just wake up married.
One morning my eyes will open to find myself in a little flat somewhere out East. I'll look down and think "Wow, this bedspread is really cute and significantly less tacky than the one I am familiar with."

Then I'll look to my left to behold some nice, glasses-wearing husband. The smart kind who likes to cook and play with his buddies in a low-key indie band.
And I will say, "Awesome."

After some deliberation, I have concluded it would be deceitful and wrong to wear my ring on my left hand when I go to the library. I know that God is not inclined to help liars... especially ones who shoot themselves in the foot by sending an unmistakably clear message that they are off-limits.
But I am tired of creepers AND I am tired of the nice, normal people who think you might be worth seeing again.

Well... guess what? You don't know me- and that's okay! The good news is, cute girls are dime a dozen round these parts!
So go fish, in the nicest possible way I can say that.

(Remember? I can't smell anymore.)