There have been iconic encounters, like the man I met in Cronulla three nights before ending my internship in Sydney and having to return to Melbourne. There has been a vast spectrum of meet-cutes over the last couple of years. Of course, no solidified plans have been made and I sit here finding solace in reflecting on dates past to reconcile my disappointment with another COVID-cancelled one. As I write this, I sit waiting for the fate of a hypothesised ‘ walking date’ in lieu of the original Sunday dinner we had pencilled in. (Is a disclaimer even necessary here to say I am aware much bigger issues are at hand than my dating life?).
There have now been two lockdown eves ensuing in cancelled first date plans that were scheduled for the weekend.
Interested to see how others navigate the world? Head to our Life section for more. Probably something to do with our perpetual hermitude. This year’s been the worst in terms of the number of dates that have eventuated to anything. I feel guilt-wracked and disappointed leaving failed first dates, especially when I am accruing a compendium of them. I talk myself (or let my mother/friends talk me) into “giving them a chance, Gen”. It means I didn’t really enjoy myself and don’t want to see them again, but that is occasionally too frustrating to process. When I get that ‘idk’ feeling (you might know the one), it’s often just denial. I am the person that leaves most first dates feeling disenchanted. “Even though it’s uncomfortable to execute, the termination message must be sent.”
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