When rent was paid at the first of the month, it became clear that the occasional freelancing checks that once breathed life into (or at least gave mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to) my bank account were suddenly not enough. In addition to pinching my weight in pennies, seeking out freelancing work, and trying to get a “real” job, I’ve come up with a new, novel way to save money.
Dating.
It’s still kind of a foreign concept for the small, liberal arts graduate. Let’s just say there’s a reason why my alma mater, Bates College, was referenced in The Sopranos as being the most expensive form of birth control.
Since moving to San Francisco, I’ve noticed that while romance may be cold and dead on the East Coast (I’m looking at you, New England), it’s alive and awkward out here. That’s mostly because I made a rule for myself: If I’m asked out, I will never turn down the offer. No matter who it is. Except for the panhandler on Polk Street with the facial sore.
Sans homeless dating, I’ve still opened Pandora’s box. I’ve gone out with everyone from a Berkeley PhD student to a 38-year-old karaoke bartender within the past month. Seriously. Standards, which once prevented me from going out with anyone, are now pretty much nonexistent.
Apologies — that sounds particularly elitist, especially coming from someone who doesn’t have stable income. Let it be known that I had much more fun with the karaoke enthusiast. We both bonded over bad, but wonderful R&B of the 90s.
Much of my actual dating education came from this music. While Aaliyah taught me “age ain’t nothin’ but a number, throwin down ain’t nothin’ but a thang,” Monica paved the way so that “I don’t get down on the first night.”
All this dating and the fact that my Pandora radio is usually set to the Tweet/Missy masturbation anthem “Oops (Oh My)” makes me surprised that there hasn’t been an R&B lady anthem about the dinner fool.
Straight women have long been accustomed to the dinner fool. A guy asks a gal out on a date and if he’s a true gentleman he will pay. If you like him, but don’t like like him, you may go out again. Eventually, this is just leading someone on, which is no good. But during hard economic times, dinner fools are sometimes necessary accessories.
During this current phase of my own life, I know that I’m in the safe-zone when it comes to who will pay for the meal – me or the other guy.
When you throw out the “unemployed” bomb, you are no longer required to pay, especially if the other person is older. It may be common sense and it may be common courtesy and it may be based in strange, traditional gender roles (or lack thereof). However, it’s been chronicled that straight guys are having a really hard time with this – as examined in this Huffington Post piece… And yet, dating is up.
In a similar vein, if you are dating someone who is unemployed or a student (and if you date younger people and are unemployed), you focus on your own funds. The Berkeley PhD guy said it best:
“You’re unemployed. I’m a student. Let’s get burritos and beer and pay separately.”
While I’m still mostly the human embodiment of “Oops (Oh My)” – you know what I mean — dating provides a thoroughly welcome distraction from stewing in my apartment all day. It’s a diversion, even if it’s with a dinner fool.
More importantly, I’ve noticed that pitching cover letters, story ideas, and the like has gotten much easier because I’m thriving on awkward interactions. Everyone knows that a first date is oftentimes an interview. While the rest of my professional life may be in shambles, dating has made me better at networking and interviewing and reaching out. Likewise, it’s made me take rejection less personally.
It also ensures that my diet consists of more than Ling Ling Potsickers and peanut butter.
I’m learning the art of hustling more and more, whilst waiting for funds to full-on make out with my bank account once more.
