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The Death Of The Date

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Paul Hudson

I haven’t checked the obituaries in… well, ever, but at some point or another courtship died and along with it, the concept of the date.

Traditions have a tendency of fading after time, but I for one never imagined that the same fate would befall dating that did reading from a paper book or masturbating to magazines- the Internet and e-book age put those to rest. But all good things must come to an end sooner or later.

Now, don’t think that I am sitting here munching on my morning oatmeal, pointing fingers, and planning on lecturing all of you. That’s not the case at all. I am most definitely just as guilty as the rest of you- even more so I dare to say.

I do not remember the last time that I went on a “date” that consisted of more than me taking a girl out to a bar within a 3 block radius from my apartment, only in order to get her and myself liquored up and ready to stumble back over to my place.

I don’t remember the last time I actually put any effort into planning a date or even the venue. I would usually just invite whichever girl I was seeing that day or during that slot of the day (I would be lying if I said that I never penciled in multiple appointments within a 24-hour period) over to my apartment to “watch a movie”.

I would have a couple of bottles of wine being chilled in the wine-fridge and, in case she was European, a couple of bottles of vodka in the freezer. And yes, the only TV in my apartment is in my bedroom.

I remember this one time I actually did invite a girl to literally watch a movie. We walked into my apartment- she went straight for the bedroom and started to undress. When I walked in after her and continued to turn the TV on and started flipping through my Netflix on my PS3, only then did she come to the conclusion: “Oh, so when you invited me to ‘watch a movie’, you actually meant watch a movie.” True story. The movie got boring after 10 minutes.

Although I find this lifestyle rather fucking awesome for the time being, eventually I am assuming that I will feel urges of settling down. At least that is what I hear happens to people once they become “adults”. I am most definitely avoiding that at all costs, but I am bound to want a wife and kids sometime in the future.

I don’t want the first time I have a date with my future wife to be dinner and drinks at Frankie’s Pub on the corner followed by a double feature at Casa Paul Hudson.

Although I know that I may be an extreme case, I am sure that many of you have similar dating experiences. At least I hope so; I can’t be as damaged as my therapist would have me believe. For those of you with similar courting techniques, how long do you think you can keep it up before you come to your senses and realize that you will never marry one of the many men or women you are “dating” only for sex?

And when that time comes, which it will, will you even know what a real date looks like? Will you know how to hold an titillating conversation without the need of downing a couple of Jameson shots? Will you feel comfortable spending time with someone you find attractive without having to stare at a television screen?

I am all for that ‘free love and sex’ shit- sleep with whomever, wherever and whenever- for now. But Generation-Y will need to settle down at some point, or get used to paying child support, in order for the human race to continue. Being the most awesome generation the world has ever seen, we would be doing an injustice if we were to fail to reproduce.

And call me old fashioned, but I feel that kids ought to be raised in loving homes, preferably with two parents who also love each other. We aren’t getting any younger. Get whoring around out of your system now; if there is anything I learned from Generation-X it’s that there is nothing pleasant in being a 40-something, 50-something year old bachelor.

Paul Hudson | Elite. 

For more from Paul, follow him on Twitter @MrPaulHudson 

Paul Hudson

Paul Hudson

Staff Writer

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