The Most Boring Girl in the World

Let’s not call this a pity party. Over the last few years I’ve grown my confidence, and I don’t need anybody thinking that I’m the miserable wretch I was in middle school. I get that dating is all totally subjective. I get this, since I’m the one who willingly swipes past poor bathroom-lit selfies and self-depricating profiles in the OKCupid app. I’ll bail on you as oddly as you’ll bail on me.
With that out of the way, let’s begin. I have now been on more dates in the last two years than I have in my entire life (five, the current total is five in two years). For most people, this is not a feat. But most people don’t spend their free time in high school poring over PG-13 Harry Potter fanfiction, so let’s just call this a win for the introvert.
Ever have one of those moments where (perhaps after a bit of alcohol) you think that you are on a roll with entertaining your friend? You are so fully engaging your friends and peers that, the next day, when your best friend breaks the news that you were in fact, just standing in the bathroom, staring at the stall wall in rapt concentration, and not the center of attention, it sort of just blind sides you? That’s how I felt at the end of these dates.
I am, apparently, terrible company.
Adorable boy seeks me out at a party. We chat for hours. We exchange numbers, plan another date. We get ice cream, talk about obscure movies. All is well. “This was fun, I’ll see you around.” Never see each other again.
Several dates with another boy. Things going swimmingly, talking about continuing to go swimmingly. Boy falls off the face of the earth.
OKCupid date. 10AM coffee (don’t get me started). We get one cup each, talk for hours, never check our phones. He listens, I listen, everything is great and mutual. Dead air since then.
Now, I’m ready to accept outside circumstances. I am also ready to accept that there is some truth in the ever-ethereal “connection.” Maybe things just didn’t work out because “they didn’t work out.” Whatever we tell ourselves to keep this flimsy raft of confidence afloat, I still want to know.

Dear Sir,
On the evening of _____________ you and the subject of this survey went on an agreed upon “date.” This “date” has proven to bear no fruit. In an attempt to rectify whatever circumstances led to the lack of growth of this relationship, the subject has requested your services in filling out a short survey about the experience. Please answer honestly.
On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate the conversation of this date?
How would you rate the “chemistry?”
Please define your definition of “chemistry.”
At any point in the evening did the subject embarrass herself without knowing? (ie, things in her teeth, toilet paper on her heels, offensive body odor)
Please elaborate.
How many other women are you dating?
Does your fast-filling, high-demand social calendar affect your desire to call the subject?
If you had kissed the subject would you be more likely to call her?
Please list your top five indicators of a “good date.”
Please draw a sketch of the subject.
Feel free to include any other information you deem valuable to the subject.
Thank you for your time.

Or, perhaps, I should simply take the sage advice of my mother: