Practice Makes Perfect?
Dating someone you're not interested in requires nerves of steel.
 (Illustration by Kim Rosen) |
Women date for one of two reasons - either they want to date because they enjoy it, or they have to date because no one's figured out how to clone George Clooney. I fall into the latter category, and because I only date guys with whom I share chemistry, I don't go out a lot. One of my friends suggested I try "practice dating," which basically means going out with any guy who is unmarried and doesn't face a warrant for his arrest.
It turns out that practice dating sucks. I remember when I signed up for German folk dancing in high school, for which I had to dress up in a country smock and practice weekly while the cheerleaders looked on and snickered. Practice dating is worse.
The biggest problem is the lack of chemistry at the onset, the hallmark of the practice date. That's why it's called a "practice" date in the first place, and not a "hot" date. For me, there must be an initial spark, some threat to an otherwise composed evening, if not the kind that inspires the derangement of true love, then at least a kernel of misappropriated lust worthy of a post-creme brulee tryst.
The practice date usually takes place in a sensually provocative environment, like a restaurant. An air of contrived intimacy settles over the table and stiffens the interaction among me, my date, and the server, who recites the specials in a hushed voice as my date and I wait like a matching pair of cigar-store Indians. During the meal, I struggle to come up with icebreakers . . . "So, how often do you get to visit your daughter in Indiana?"
On many of these dates, the ennui is mutual, but I have also been on the receiving end of the practice date. In this situation, I don't have to feel guilty about letting him pay for my meal, but, unfortunately, in an effort to be liked, I start performing tricks like a monkey on her way to shock treatment.
I do like men. Some of my best friends are men. I don't like the practice date because I am forced to assume the role of "potential female partner." When I first meet a guy, my instinct isn't to relate to him in a romantic or gender-specific way, but rather human to human, without any romantic auspices. I can't do that in a push-up bra.
Practice dating also lacks a pre-screening process. One guy took me to a candlelit restaurant with a jazz ensemble. Midway through the meal, he lifted his hands into position, grinned, and started whaling on an air guitar. Any remote possibility of romance was shot as soon as that air guitar was lifted out of its air case. If this had been an Internet date, I could have excused myself and crawled out the window. But this was someone from my neighborhood whom I was liable to see again. I realized I would need to develop some end-of-the-date coping mechanisms.
The key to parting on a platonic stance is to intercept The Goodnight Kiss with The Friendly Handshake. This maneuver is meant to unnerve the advancing suitor and is executed by springing the hand forth from behind the back, like in the Wild West. This takes a certain level of skill, so I like to practice it a few times in the bathroom stall. Another option is The One-Sided Hug, the universal dating shorthand for "Have a nice life," convenient if a mutual distaste has developed. Here, each party engages one arm in an embrace, while their soul retreats to the other side in a plea for sovereignty.
Another tip: Do not attempt to go dancing. The formal nature of the practice date tends to drain my bones of their boogie. One errant hand clap will generally deteriorate into a desperate wooden-leg version of the Running Man.
In my opinion, practice dating is a waste of time and money. So I am happy to announce my retirement. My experience served a purpose, because I am no longer envious of friends who date twice a week. It has strengthened my gratitude for girls' night out and reaffirmed the luxury of spending Friday nights in my robe watching Ocean's 11-13.
Erika Cann is a freelance writer. Send comments to coupling@globe.com.
