Single Girl Dating Diaries: My Name is Ingrid

By Ingrid on August 28th, 2009

Editor’s Note: Kat here. So, we, here at Twirlit, like to think of our site as the place you can go to escape your job and just read about what’s going on in the world of Current Events, Entertainment, Beauty, Fashion, and more… What else? Well, we also like to be nosy and dish about people’s dating lives. That’s probably the one thing that all of us gals and guys have in common; we’re all looking for true love or at the very least, a significant other that we’re attracted to and wouldn’t mind having around for more than two drinks sessions, one hook-up, and a half-fling. You know what I’m talking about. Anyway, we’re introducing the Single Girl Dating Diaries where we look into the dating lives of single gals so you can see the good, the bad, and the ugly. Without further ado…please meet INGRID and her first dating diary:

ingrid-smoking-1

A Wednesday night is a rough night to learn things about yourself. You look up at the mirror behind the bar and see yourself in all your glory – mid 30s, very chipped manicure, only 2 smokes left in the purse…but I mean well. My favorite dive near work was mostly empty, save a few old barflies who had probably been in here since 1965. I slowly nurse my vodka rocks. I have only two things to do tonight: Drink, and think.

Earlier today, one of my best girlfriends called me up. Last Saturday we had been at the same wedding together, one of many many weddings that recently been washing over my social calendar. Everyone’s getting married but me – a sentiment many chicks out there in Lonelyland L.A. can relate to, but that’s not the point right now.

The point IS that supposedly, I met a great guy at that wedding, who happened to be seated at my friend’s table. At least I thought I met him. I think I remember what he looks like? Anyhow, the gal pal calls me up today at work (cubicle farm, data entry, faceless clients). Not the one that got married, she’s somewhere in Napa right now, drinking cabernet and humping away on her honeymoon.

She asks: “You know that guy you were dancing with, Jeff or Jeffrey? Or Geo-ffrey with a G?”

An epic pause. I listened to the hum of the office around me while my friend gathered her thoughts. When one of your girlfriends has to actually pause long enough to take a breath and think about something, you are more than likely, in big fat trouble.

“Only he literally said about 5 things about how drunk you were.”
“What? What do you mean?”

One more pause.

ingrid-ashtray-1

“He said something about you’re an *interesting* girl, just pretty damn drunk – and that maybe if he could have a sober convo with you, he’d like you a lot, and how it’s ‘funny’ that you’re were still dancing even though you lost a shoe, something about…some stuff like that. That you were too drunk in general.”

“Are you fu#%king kidding me? What kind of guy – ”
“It sounds pretty bad when you say it all out loud.”
“He seemed cool, but maybe he’s some kind of – ”
“Should I have even told you?”

I trail off, because I was drunk. What a great impression I make on guys that I’ve barely met, or barely remember.
Why *do* I get so drunk at these things? It’s not that hard of a question. Going to a wedding by one’s self is a ballsy, sad thing to do. The only option I had was to get drunk, and stay drunk, and forget about the whole thing. Forget that you barely like the bride, an old friend from college, and that you barely like her new husband. Forget the whole thing – even the guy who kind of liked you, but not enough.

“Yeah, it’s okay that you told me.”

I put down the phone quietly and sat there. It feels like I’ve become a terrible mess of a girl and now, how do I stop the bad behavior? And why is this part of me that keeps screaming, no, why should you change? You LIKE having a good time. If a guy doesn’t like something about you, doesn’t that just mean he’s not the guy anyhow, and F$*K self improvement, if you don’t like me as I am – then there’s something wrong with you? There’s nobody to pose this question to in the dive bar. Well, nobody that would give me good advice at least. There are only two women in here, the low key seen it all bartender woman who seems like a burned out Thelma or Louise type, and an 83 year old woman nursing her Budweiser in a glass.

I’ve never been one of those girls who feels better about herself when she’s in a relationship, I’m just getting sick of not having someone to lean against in all the dive bars in my imagination.