My list of dating requirements is relatively simple:
1) taller than me
2) not an asshole
That’s it. Meet those two requirements, and I’m happy to have dinner or a drink or pass an hour or two with you, at least once. (i’ll try anything once)
You’d think it would be easier. A good friend, who moved away from DC to get married, told me I’d have to move if I ever wanted to get married. Our conversation went something like this
her: “I don’t know if it’s the same as 15 years ago, but you’re going to have to move if you want to get married.
me: “But I don’t want to get married. I just want to sit through dinner without wanting to gouge my eyes out with a spoon.”
her: “oh. I’m not sure what to tell you then. But you’re probably out of luck.”
I’d like to think she was wrong. But, sadly, it doesn’t look like it so far. But, dear readers, it has made for some awkward, sketchy, and downwirght hilarious stories. So, welcome to my musings on dating in DC. We might be adding a NYC contingent as well, down the line.