I am datable. I mean, I am really, really datable.
At least, in my mind I am. I haven't actually tried to apply this principle, you understand. It's more like a theory right now. But seriously, I have a whole list of reasons why I'd date the hell out of myself, if I were an eligible guy between thirty-five and dead.
Yes, that's my age range. I ain't gettin' any younger, y'know.
So here's why I'm dating material:
- I am a cheap date. I really am. You don't have to take me someplace with tablecloths and strolling violinists. It's not that I won't appreciate the effort, but I'm more than happy to sit down over a plate of diner food and talk about our favorite movies or take a nature walk or check out a museum. You don't have to spend oodles of money on me because, honestly, that doesn't impress me much. In fact, if you seem like you're trying to flaunt your money, I'm more likely going to be put off by it than impressed by it.
- I text back. And I don't use bad grammar, shortened words or long chains of emoticons to communicate. If you are a guy who does that, then I'm going to wonder if you're secretly not a teenage girl, or date a lot of barely-older-than-teenage girls.
- I cook well and I bake really, really well. I'm a little rusty on the cooking - my kids like the usual kid things so I don't get to cook delicious and varied stuff as much as I used to in my married days, but I do love to do it and I'm the one the neighbors swarm over when I walk in the door to a neighborhood party with a dish in my hand. I'll feed you and I'll love doing it.
- I can recommend a lot of awesome movies. Because I watch a lot of movies. In fact, I'll have to break up with Netflix to date you. And I like to go out to movies. And rent movies on Redbox. And spend entirely too much time perusing the Wal-Mart $5 bin for hidden treasure.
- I haven't been kissed in so long I'm likely to devour you when your lips touch mine. Okay, that one's kind of embarrassing to admit, but I honestly am a little affection-starved. That's likely to even out once I stop theoretically dating and start actually dating, but when I first start making the rounds I have a very real worry that I'm going to lose my mind the second a man puts his lips on me. They may only find traces of his DNA afterward or something.
Wait. Maybe that's more scary than enticing. I just reread it and now that last point looks really creepy. I'm not creepy.
At least, I don't think so.
So there you have it, men with a pulse. And teeth. Well, most of your teeth. I don't want to seem to picky.
Eventually, you'll get a shot at this.
I'll keep you posted.
Ellie is the author of David And Me Under The Sea: Essays From A Decade With Autism.