I’m not the kind of girl that you fall in love with over cocktails and dance music on a Friday night.
That is, if you could even get me through the door in such places. If my four years of college have taught me anything about myself, it’s that a quiet girl with a heart for folk music and who still feels foggy after just one drink doesn’t mix well with large groups, techno, and alcohol. In fact, I’m pretty sure seeing me in such places would be just a little less miraculous than spotting Jesus on your morning toast.
And even if you could convince me that clubs and dance halls are “fun” enough for me to enter (and trust me, what’s fun for extroverts can be torture for introverts), they’re not the best place to see if I’m a worthy mate.
This is what my extroverted young adult culture and the media has led me to believe is the best way to meet men: getting prettied up, chasing away inhibitions with a few of the night’s drink specials at the local bar or club, and talking to whatever good-looking men I can find.
And I’m sure that’s all well and good for people who thrive on gossip and loud music and who can charm their way into drinks from handsome strangers.
I have not been gifted with those social wits and graces.
I’m not that quick and easy to get to know.
So unless the sight of somebody fiddling with the little umbrella in their drink, staring at their shoes, and stumbling over small talk sweeps you off your feet, you’re not going to fall for me in a bar on a Friday night, no matter how pretty I look.
I don’t want a Friday night kind of falling in love anyway—quick, distracted, maybe exciting, but with no real guarantee that it will blossom into something more.
I’d rather fall in love in a way that reminds me of lazy weekends spent lounging on a worn leather sofa, listening to old blues records, and sipping on hot mugs of tea—slowly, leisurely, comfortably, not wanting it to end, and in a way that makes you look forward to the next time.
I’d very much prefer to fall in love over blues records and tea anyway. It’s much more “me” than dance music and cocktails.
If you want to fall in love with me, you’d better be patient. None of that “love at first sight” stuff. I’m not even sure you can call that love. Infatuation, maybe, or being smitten. But at this point in my life, even though I’ve not yet dated anybody, infatuation isn’t what I’m looking for.
Maybe that makes me weird. Or maybe I’m being unrealistic. But I think I like it better that way.