By Alexa Day
Dating bores me.
I spent a good deal of time on outfits and meeting people and, of course, on the dates themselves before I arrived at that conclusion and stopped dating altogether. I’m actually happier in a post-dating world. I tend to think many of us are dating out of fear that WE’LL END UP ALONE as if that’s the worst thing that could possibly happen to us. I don’t think it makes a great deal of sense to do anything out of fear that some phantom consequence might result.
I don’t think I’m going to END UP ALONE. I don’t think that’s the worst thing that can possibly happen to me (it’s not even top five). And so I don’t miss dating all that much.
Part of my problem with dating is that I felt like I was on the same date over and over again. There might be a pre-date first — an initial meet and greet over an inexpensive beverage, so that we can get a look at each other. And then the date itself: a drink, then dinner, then maybe some other thing (dessert, another drink, or a brief activity). They’re all nice enough evenings. But they’re largely interchangeable.
There were bright lights. One guy took me contra dancing, which was a giddy, breathless good time with a scandalous waltz at the end of the evening. Another guy took me to a baseball game, where we shared true confessions over cheap beer well into the extra innings. I once met a young soldier who invited me to a wild military bacchanal.
Aside from that, though, it’s the same old date, different dude. It’s as if guys are afraid of giving offense by deviating from a worn-out routine. I’d hate to think they’re just not putting the effort in.
It’s important that we understand each other here.
There is some suspicion that because I write erotica and erotic romance, I have a skewed idea of what dating is supposed to look like. I’m pretty sure that isn’t happening. For one thing, I don’t write about dating. I hate it, remember? For another, as a romance writer, I breathe life into considerate, smart, sincere, kind, but fictional men. They might be a little hotter than the average Joe, but honestly, I’ve gone out with the sorts of guys who would do just fine in the typical erotic romance.
I’m being perfectly realistic. I’m just tired of going on the same date over and over again.
Why can’t we go to the MMA bouts? The local ones. The ones in the cinder block building at the end of the long, winding gravel road, far away from streetlights and strip malls and reliable wireless reception. They’re in a close, poorly lit room filled with metal folding chairs, and the men in the ring are talented amateurs who can charge the air with testosterone until it feels like lightning is going to strike. I wouldn’t mind spending an evening in a makeshift arena watching the local gladiators size each other up while we have ice-cooled beer and super-salty popcorn. It might be cool to place a bet or two — just between us — as the night progresses. Whoever wins the last wager can collect as we wind our way through the maze of cars, pretending that we don’t remember where we parked.
Why can’t we go to the burlesque show? If the MMA was all about testosterone, burlesque is a celebration of the feminine. It’s a chance to slowly revel in curves and feathers and glitter and tassels and all that fabulous teasing. Music and laughter and sensuality. Why not the strip club? I don’t have anything against the strip club, but I don’t think we can claim it has the same level of artistic subtlety as burlesque. Besides, I’ve been to the strip club. I’ve been to the strip club many, many times. The goal, remember, is for me not to be on the same date over and over again.
No? Well, we could go to the bar at the most expensive hotel in the city. We could park ourselves in the corner, so that we can see everyone with little trouble. And as the weekend folks hustle in and out on their way to their own evening plans or returning from that last conference session, we could watch them flirting with each other. We can watch the the ancient game of seduction played by the masters — because even though modern times have eroded that venerable art form, its best practitioners can still be found at the hotel bar. Take it from a hotel bartender. After taking in the fine spectator sport that is seduction over drinks, we might try out some techniques on each other. Or on our fellow drinkers. The hotel bar is all about discretion.
Now doesn’t that sound like fun? Wonderful, subversive, delightfully dirty fun?
Want to ramp it up a little? Want to ramp it up a lot?
If I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of your dating desires, you’re all ready for Dirty Dates. It’s a smoking hot anthology edited by our own Rachel Kramer Bussel, so you know it’s crammed full of stories about all the very best things that can happen when two people get together. New couples, established couples — yeah, it’s all in there. Know what else is in there? Figging. There’s figging.
Aren’t you reassured that deepening romance and super-hot sex can survive side-by-side? I know I am. I don’t do sacrifice well. Might be another reason dating and I don’t get along.
Check out how hot dating can be with a print copy of Dirty Dates — it’s all ready for you right now, today! Or you can make yourself all squirmy and wait for the ebook next week. Choose your pleasure.
And follow Lady Smut. We’ll never bore you.