Last week, my therapist was listening to me talk, when she piped up and said: "Do you go on dates?" I don't leave my house much when I'm not in Morgantown for classes. My high school friends and I have drifted far enough apart that it would feel really weird to repair the relationships. For the most part, I hang out with my cat.
To answer her question, no. I don't really go on any dates—at least, not here. My hometown isn't exactly great as far as the "bar scene" is concerned. In Morgantown, it's way easier to meet people. Here, not so much. When I told her that I didn't really go on dates, she gave me a challenge.
"Go out on one date before our next session."
Easy enough. I was chatting with several guys on Tinder and Bumble, so it should be pretty easy to meet one of them for coffee. One guy ended up asking for my number, and I figured that I would have no trouble with my therapist's assignment.
I never got a text.
My approach was clearly not working. I needed to come at this from a different angle, so that's what I did.
I figured that honesty was probably the best policy, so I figured I'd just tell everyone straight up what I needed. I would just let the universe do the rest.
I kept getting matches like I usually did because, well, I'm a girl. I didn't get more matches, but I got more messages about dates.
Usually, a witty back-and-forth would start, but nothing would really come of it. I don't mind that, but the stakes got a little higher once my therapist got involved. I couldn't go back to therapy and disappoint her, could I? I mean, yeah. I could.
Obviously, I felt a sense of urgency, but so did the guys that I matched. I have a few dates in the works, but I already have a date to report back to my therapist.
While the dates I'll be going on might not be anything to write home about, I'll be meeting new people and forming new relationships. I'm practicing my social skills and honing them in a way that I wasn't able to before now.