Love for Sale?

I’ve always been really bad at dating. I mean, awful. Catastrophically, ridiculously bad. I went out with a guy who spent the entire evening droning on about how his family disowned him, then stuck me with the check. I’ve been pinched on the butt by a guy who got roaring drunk on our first date, too. Then there was Trashed Me on His Website Guy, You’d Be Cuter if You Were Jewish Guy, and Let’s Get Matching Tattoos Guy. I’m wary of the whole enterprise.

But I’ve decided to launch myself back into it anyway, and in a rather spectacular fashion. I signed up for a bachelorette auction for the end of July. OK, it’s for charity. The event is sponsored by the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, so what’s a little bit of embarrassment compared to helping cure cancer? Plus, I’m rounding up a cheering section. A few of my friends will be given blank checks with which they can rescue me if a Mullet Man decides I’m his dream date. I’m looking forward to it.

Plus, this auction has allowed me to have some awesome conversations. “Would you mind taking a digital photo of me?”
“What for?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Match.com?”
“What’s more embarrassing than Match.com?”

In preparation, I decided to read an issue of Cosmopolitan. Yes, I am aware that studying for a bachelorette auction is hopelessly geeky, but I tend to overthink things a little. At one point I even contemplated gathering letters of reference from former boyfriends. (Is there such thing as Attention Surplus Disorder?)

Cosmo, for the record, is just a dreadful as I remembered. Every article is “62 Things to Do to Your Man Tonight!” which just sounds exhausting to me. Do men really expect 62 different things in one night? I must be getting old. When do Cosmo girls sleep? When I was 23, the typical article was “48 Things to Do to Your Man Tonight”, so I guess inflation is everywhere.

Plus there’s all the articles about “How to Twist Yourself Inside Out to Get a Man”, or “How to Dress Trampy”, or, best of all, “The Secret About Men.” (Typically, “They Like Sex.”) All of this makes me feel woefully unprepared.

So my new strategy is to just not think about it at all. Maybe someone nice will buy me. Or maybe someone awful will buy me, but at least it will make for a good story.