Dub-less in Dublin: the one with no name

This time, I bring to you a short update to Dubless in Dublin even though I’ve made you wait for so many weeks.  I do apologize for that, I don’t mean to be sporadic but the dating scene can get exhausting, and writing about it like it’s all fun and games is just not entirely sincere.  But, because I don’t want to drop a heavy piece about life, connection, and how sucky dating is…this time I’ll share the shortest date I have ever been on with the longest and most uneventful lead up.

This guy was one of the first guys I matched with on Hinge when I downloaded the app back in September.  He was cute, had a couple funny prompts, and most importantly, he lives in my neighborhood.  If I had a sneaky link in my neighborhood (yes, I know this was getting ahead of myself because the status of sneaky link is a few steps down the line) the ease of going on dates and hanging out would not be dissimilar to having a cute local grocery shop within walking distance.  Convenient.  While I am shallow enough to want the ease of a neighborhood sneaky link, I am not shallow enough to settle for just anybody, so don’t get ahead of yourself, this story will leave you parched and wanting more from your local potential sneaky links.

So, he was one of the first I matched with but our texts were so sporadic that we did not go on our first date until at least six weeks later.  The only thing about the messages that I can remember is that we talked about cauliflower and Sunday dinner.  There needs to be a stronger vetting process.  The date?  Well, because we both live in the same neighborhood we thought it would be nice to walk around and have a coffee.  Did he know any coffee places in the neighborhood? No.  I know of at least four places to get coffee if you include the Spar.  This was my first sign to proceed with caution because not knowing any coffee shops isn’t immediate grounds for dismissal but I do wonder, what the heck do you do around the neighborhood?  Or do you go into town every night?  Or do you…never leave your house…?  It’s a scary question to consider, but sometimes people just don’t like coffee, or they don’t want to spend 4 euro on a cappuccino.  

In order to figure it out, then, you must ask follow up questions.  And it’s so easy when you’re walking around the neighborhood you both live in.  Oh, have you been to the Indian restaurant?  You should try it, it just made some list in the Irish Times!  What about your favorite pub?  The Saint is quite nice, you can play pool or darts all night and the people are chill.  Do you shop at Tesco? It’s so convenient because it’s on the bus route into town!  Have you been to Small Changes?  I do a lot of my grocery shopping here and the two men that run it are so sweet and they also make pizza and coffees and smoothies!  You ever been to the local pharmacy?

The only place he had been was the Chinese takeaway spot, apparently they had a decent spice bag.  That’s about all I got.  He drives to the Lidl, doesn’t like Indian food, goes out in town with friends from Trinity, and clearly hasn’t done much exploring of the neighborhood he lives in.  But tragically, he didn’t have much interest in changing that.

I consider myself a pretty caring person, but when he told me that his mother fell and broke both her arms I felt nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  And this is what concerns me most.  For someone who cares about people I shouldn’t, not a single heart string was pulled as he’s telling me that he has to leave early tomorrow morning to go home for a long weekend.  Honestly, I was happy that I wouldn’t have to navigate a second date for a few days at least.

As we are walking along the canal and it’s sunny and the swans are drifting along with no agenda until you get too close, I check my watch.  2:37pm.  Well this is tragic.  We were supposed to meet at Small Changes at 2 o’clock and he was sixteen minutes late.  Which means I’d only been talking to him for twenty one minutes.  And I had nothing else to say, absolutely nothing else.  My repertoire had run dry and I couldn’t bear to be around him for a moment longer.  So, I dissociated for twenty minutes (naturally) and then checked my watch again and in my best frantic, surprised, and stressed out voice I said Oh my gosh! I totally forgot, I have so much homework to do, I have to get going! (I didn’t.)  It was so lovely meeting you! (It was not.)  I’ll see you soon! (I won’t.)

Later that day, he texted suggesting drinks the following week.  I entertained it because I was strictly operating ‘for the plot’ and gave him a couple days I was free to go out in our neighborhood because, remember, the whole point of this was that it would be convenient.  He responded saying he was busy those two days, said he was only free Wednesday and I never responded.  Because, while I entertain ‘for the plot’ moments, I will not skip hockey practice for a guy with the personality of damp socks.  A man much like frozen yogurt, appealing to look at because it reminds you of ice cream on warm summer days, but a complete let down upon closer inspection.