He ginned, she ginned, he looked, she looked, everyone snickered at the sight of them behaving like 5 year olds.”Grow up” one exclaimed, “what losers” said the other… but secretly, they were jealous of the couple who was dating.
The wife now sits back in bed reading a thick book on some subject the husband finds interesting, but tedious. He’ll get the cliff notes over coffee later. As it is she’s recently returned from picking up a new album and some last minute groceries for tomorrow’s breakfast. Her dark hair is pinned so that it frames her face and her makeup is still flawless despite the oppressive summer heat. He never quite understands why she’s randomly taken with lining her eyes and rouging her lips when all she does is go to a store and come home to read, but when she does “pretty up” it always has an effect on him even when she reminds him that she does it for herself and no one else. “I do it to feel different,” she’ll often say when he’s studying her features. Tonight with her dark eyes rimmed in coal and eyelids highlighted with gold — it invokes a memory for him from a time when they were dating and how he loves the color of her skin and the way it looks under a flickering candle light and how her face can be so expressive even when she’s thinking about a million other things than him. With his index finger he pushes the book into her lap and she looks up at him. Red lips beckon in a coy little smile. She knows he can never resist when she’s being herself like this.
Judgement was coming. She could feel it. She’d known this crowd for fifteen years and considered them to be firm friends, but things had felt different since the separation. She had been the only one to split from her husband and it had been, well, messy to say the least. After a brief affair with someone else’s husband she had found a new man. A delightfully polite and quite sexy man with good career prospects. She felt comfortable with him – happy even, but she could feel herself pulling him directly into the firing line. Poor lame duck with an eager to please smile on his face. Her friends lined themselves up along the table, the official jury.
Riley flicked the pages. Harry held the torch.
What the hell? asked Harry. Eyes wide.
Riley kept flicking.
No. Wait. Go back. Wha….?
Harry couldn’t fathom the feeling. He felt his head getting hotter. It was definitely hot in here, under the covers. He ran his fingers across the page while Riley giggled in his earhole. Dear Mother of God. That perfectly rosey flesh. The curves. The strange ugly parts of those women that were so unbearably beautiful.
I wasn’t exactly sure if we were dating or not until Edgar pushed his tongue into my mouth. Prior to that there’d been signs. He’d asked to walk me home after the athletics carnival and we’d stopped by the pond and sat swinging out legs above the slimey, green water. He told me about his comic collection and about how Phoebe Smart had lost her underpants when his brother Riley pushed her into the creek. That was almost romantic. And two weeks before that he had brushed my hand with his right after he stole two lemons off Kristen Oliver’s lemon tree. But I wasn’t absolutely certain until I felt that slippery slug push against the back of my throat. I must say it was difficult to breathe. I thought I should push my tongue back at his but frankly there wasn’t room for that. So I retreated and held my breath, waiting for it to end.
Dating is an interesting thing. It’s weird to date someone. I remember all the times I dreamed about dating someone. I use to thing it was all that and a bag of chips. I was very wrong. Dating is complicated and confusing. It brings you a lot of happiness and a lot of heartache. Okay I guess I’ll go ahead and write about this some more. Sixty seconds is too short of time to write anything substantial. Love love love blah blah
Claire A Hammons
I’m glad I’ve gotten to a place in my life where I don’t have to feel so much FOMO about dating. I was so romantically frustrated for the years leading up to finally finding someone, but now, I’m in a good place, and I don’t know how I could be content outside of it.
Of course, him and Wally weren’t exactly dating. No, a term like that couldn’t ever describe the relationship they had together. Not boyfriends, not dating, and certainly not married. On many occasions did people question what exactly were they. The two of course always burst out laughing at the question, Dick cackling more than others. Because they were way more than a simple phrase we call “dating.”
I watched her eyes narrow as her companion for the evening unsuccessfully attempted to blow smoke away from their table. The wind, hot and humid, would not comply tonight. I pitied her for there was no way to avoid the plumes that ghosted over her hair and through her clothes. I couldn’t discern if they were more than just friends. Her eyes said “no.” His feet and shoulders slumped towards her towards her said, “yes.”
“Staring at those losers are you?” The voice was familiar. It was warm.
“I don’t remember welcoming you to my table.” I glanced away from the couple and looked into a set of familiar eyes.
“I’ll just have a seat.”
“You’d better not. I’m not dating anyone and I hate to give the impression that I am in a place like this.”
“Fair enough.” The eyes were hurt and the tone defensive, “Wouldn’t be want to seen with the likes of me. I get it.”
“At least not here.” I offered a wry smile. “I’m bored, downwind, and I have no intention of staying. Come if you like or stay as you will. I’m not your keeper nor are you mine.”
Dating my age you will never guess
How old I really am
For I won’t tell you of my age
Since I am a woman
And women have a right not to tell
How old do you think I am
If I won’t tell you when I was born
Susan
They were then they weren’t then they were then they weren’t then they were then they weren’t. Stop me if this gets boring. Then they were. And this time, it stuck for awhile. She kept asking herself what the hell their problem was, but it was more him than her. He was the one that wanted to see other people, which is just another way of saying you want to sleep with someone else. You don’t just ‘see’ them and take them to the movies or dinner. It’s not the menu that you want to ‘see.’ It’s the whole person, in bed, and what they can do or can’t do; how they make you feel or not feel. During those times when they were apart, she’d never slept with anyone else; it felt weird, maybe she was old-fashioned or something. Or it was just that no one really interested her that way. He, on the other hand, she was sure had slept with all the women he could get in their times apart. If he had, he still had not found one that was better; just different. This made her think that the next time they broke up (it was inevitable) that she’d do the same thing.
rubyluby
Sometimes I miss it. The thrill, the exploration – the games. The validation. The fucking VALIDATION of identifying and going after something you want. And catching it. And letting go.
A concept I do not enjoy being brought up at the dinner table. Why must I get asked this same trivial question, over and over? I was never meant to be held down by another person, rather, I was meant to be free. The vast, blue ocean is the only comfort and companionship I ever wanted (besides my dog).
“Dating? How do I even begin to understand the concept of this whole ‘dating’ thing?” Grace said, flabbergasted. She was never one to look at a boy, not even during class when the substitute didn’t know what era during history she was supposed to teach. Not that Grace ever minded’ she was too busy reading her sci-fi fanfiction.
Megan
Dating has become such a necessary nuisance. Why is this so? Why can’t a person live in peace if they decide not to be in a relationship with anyone? Why is being single such a taboo? What’s wrong with being happy on your own?
She watched the candle on the table flicker and go out. He was STILL TALKING. Oh dear god in heaven. She tried to smile wanly, but she couldn’t even manage one corner of her mouth. She looked over to the bar, hoping there was paint she could watch dry instead.
i wish i could be dating
im pretty good at mating
often baby making
is what im contemplating
rhyming about rhyming
this bar is getting metta
i know this is trivial
but ill still feel pretty hella.
The girls called it “carbon dating”. On a quiet night out, when the pubs were mostly empty, they’d find the oldest and most genial-looking chap they could and just sit with him. There were plenty of lonely old men in that town, and they thought it was a nice gesture to brighten up their evenings a bit. Besides, they found the name hilarious, as only a bunch of archaeologists could.
She laughed at the thought. Her, spending every waking moment with a significant other, and if not physically, then thinking of them, imagining every curve and contour of their face, wondering what they were doing at that very moment and thinking should I call?
Dating, a new age fad. we have all done it, some regret it, some cherish it. but not all come to a ‘happy ending’. Alas.. rules of the game.
Sharan Bindra
Candle light. Wine glasses. Fancy food. Crazy prices. Beautiful clothes. These are the things many people think of when they think of a date. I’d honestly rather just order pizza and hang out at home.
Anxiety. I know that it is expected of me because of my age. Ugh, I am not interested.. Do I have to? I hate this kind of pressure. I know that he will likely do most of the talking as I think about the book shop, or even better, the characters. I wish I could be left alone. I wish I could be left alone. What’s the point of dating?
“In answer to your question, yes, if we were ever dating, then there would be a lot more touching. But we’re not sooo…”
“Ok, well let’s date! I’d love to finally get a hug from you. Even friends give each other those and you’ve never given the impression that I was ever allowed one. Hell just brushing hands with you sometimes felt like an imposition.”
“I thought you’d want a little more than that by now. We’ve known each other for awhile.”
“Well this just leveled up quick. So we can do more than hug?”
“I don’t see why the exploration of our new situation needs to be so chastely uninspired. Start off with a hug; see where it leads us.”
Qwerty
Fun flirty
Sherrie lombardo
“We went to the most amazing movie this afternoon. He said it was cliché, but I liked the characterization. He couldn’t argue with that. We had some popcorn fights as well – it’s our thing, you know. I had no idea he was so hilarious. I was dying of laughter when he cracked that one joke during a scene. And when the characters finally kissed, the whole atmosphere felt so romantic…”
“You two are dating?”
“What? No!”
B.E.
“Dating?” Janae sputtered. “That’s not–that’s–I don’t have to answer that.”
Her mother gave her a look. “Is that what we’re saying these days?”
“He’s my familiar! I can’t help it that I inherited a humanoid out of everyone else in that stupid class.”
“Oh, so now it’s stupid? Careful, you might hurt its feelings.”
“Arghhh!” Janae threw her hands up in the air, storming out of the halfway house, her dark, glowering familiar floating after her.
The tension in the room lifted by several degrees, as the dark, pressing aura of the shadow elemental faded in time to each step she moved further away from the house.
Her mother rubbed her arms, absently, flinching at something unseen. “Don’t give me that,” she muttered, half-aloud. “It’s your fault. You’re the one that said you couldn’t be corporeal for longer than two decades. I told you it would cause problems.”
She listened for a moment and scoffed. “Can’t hear you darling–because she is definitely your daughter.”
I’d never thought of myself as the dating sort, I mean, sure I did practically crush on somebody for every bit of my life, but I never REALLY wanted it to end up with us dating.
He looked up at me with his translucent eyes, moving his black hair out of his eyes.
I was hardly convinced this was real life as I stood there, frozen in my spot. His body was tense as well but managed stepping closer to me.
His toes touched mine, and his hands fiddled with his dress shirt’s collar, stretching it away from his neck.
you can only do so much with carbon dating
if it’s anything that matters and it’s too old
you have to move to potassium argon dating
and that only works at sites with a history of volcanic activity
so we can never know much of anything
so why try
He looked down at the floor. I could see his ears going red. “Are you two…dating?”
I looked at my wife and couldn’t help chuckling. That seemed to embarrass my seven-year-old student even more, so I left my shopping cart and knelt next to him.
“We’re married, dear,” I said to him as his mother began walking down the aisle toward us.
Belinda Roddie
Oh well there is a topic i don’t love. I date…Sometimes…..Sometimes I’m serious…sometimes I’m not. In the bast few years I have had things that could have gone really really well….but they didn’t. I thought they just weren’t meant to be…But then I sometimes think I submarined it. Do I sabotage myself? why would I do that? I want a relationship so bad….at least I think I do.
He ginned, she ginned, he looked, she looked, everyone snickered at the sight of them behaving like 5 year olds.”Grow up” one exclaimed, “what losers” said the other… but secretly, they were jealous of the couple who was dating.
The wife now sits back in bed reading a thick book on some subject the husband finds interesting, but tedious. He’ll get the cliff notes over coffee later. As it is she’s recently returned from picking up a new album and some last minute groceries for tomorrow’s breakfast. Her dark hair is pinned so that it frames her face and her makeup is still flawless despite the oppressive summer heat. He never quite understands why she’s randomly taken with lining her eyes and rouging her lips when all she does is go to a store and come home to read, but when she does “pretty up” it always has an effect on him even when she reminds him that she does it for herself and no one else. “I do it to feel different,” she’ll often say when he’s studying her features. Tonight with her dark eyes rimmed in coal and eyelids highlighted with gold — it invokes a memory for him from a time when they were dating and how he loves the color of her skin and the way it looks under a flickering candle light and how her face can be so expressive even when she’s thinking about a million other things than him. With his index finger he pushes the book into her lap and she looks up at him. Red lips beckon in a coy little smile. She knows he can never resist when she’s being herself like this.
JURY
Judgement was coming. She could feel it. She’d known this crowd for fifteen years and considered them to be firm friends, but things had felt different since the separation. She had been the only one to split from her husband and it had been, well, messy to say the least. After a brief affair with someone else’s husband she had found a new man. A delightfully polite and quite sexy man with good career prospects. She felt comfortable with him – happy even, but she could feel herself pulling him directly into the firing line. Poor lame duck with an eager to please smile on his face. Her friends lined themselves up along the table, the official jury.
TORCH
Riley flicked the pages. Harry held the torch.
What the hell? asked Harry. Eyes wide.
Riley kept flicking.
No. Wait. Go back. Wha….?
Harry couldn’t fathom the feeling. He felt his head getting hotter. It was definitely hot in here, under the covers. He ran his fingers across the page while Riley giggled in his earhole. Dear Mother of God. That perfectly rosey flesh. The curves. The strange ugly parts of those women that were so unbearably beautiful.
Harry knew then that he was changed.
I wasn’t exactly sure if we were dating or not until Edgar pushed his tongue into my mouth. Prior to that there’d been signs. He’d asked to walk me home after the athletics carnival and we’d stopped by the pond and sat swinging out legs above the slimey, green water. He told me about his comic collection and about how Phoebe Smart had lost her underpants when his brother Riley pushed her into the creek. That was almost romantic. And two weeks before that he had brushed my hand with his right after he stole two lemons off Kristen Oliver’s lemon tree. But I wasn’t absolutely certain until I felt that slippery slug push against the back of my throat. I must say it was difficult to breathe. I thought I should push my tongue back at his but frankly there wasn’t room for that. So I retreated and held my breath, waiting for it to end.
Dating is an interesting thing. It’s weird to date someone. I remember all the times I dreamed about dating someone. I use to thing it was all that and a bag of chips. I was very wrong. Dating is complicated and confusing. It brings you a lot of happiness and a lot of heartache. Okay I guess I’ll go ahead and write about this some more. Sixty seconds is too short of time to write anything substantial. Love love love blah blah
I’m glad I’ve gotten to a place in my life where I don’t have to feel so much FOMO about dating. I was so romantically frustrated for the years leading up to finally finding someone, but now, I’m in a good place, and I don’t know how I could be content outside of it.
Of course, him and Wally weren’t exactly dating. No, a term like that couldn’t ever describe the relationship they had together. Not boyfriends, not dating, and certainly not married. On many occasions did people question what exactly were they. The two of course always burst out laughing at the question, Dick cackling more than others. Because they were way more than a simple phrase we call “dating.”
I watched her eyes narrow as her companion for the evening unsuccessfully attempted to blow smoke away from their table. The wind, hot and humid, would not comply tonight. I pitied her for there was no way to avoid the plumes that ghosted over her hair and through her clothes. I couldn’t discern if they were more than just friends. Her eyes said “no.” His feet and shoulders slumped towards her towards her said, “yes.”
“Staring at those losers are you?” The voice was familiar. It was warm.
“I don’t remember welcoming you to my table.” I glanced away from the couple and looked into a set of familiar eyes.
“I’ll just have a seat.”
“You’d better not. I’m not dating anyone and I hate to give the impression that I am in a place like this.”
“Fair enough.” The eyes were hurt and the tone defensive, “Wouldn’t be want to seen with the likes of me. I get it.”
“At least not here.” I offered a wry smile. “I’m bored, downwind, and I have no intention of staying. Come if you like or stay as you will. I’m not your keeper nor are you mine.”
Dating my age you will never guess
How old I really am
For I won’t tell you of my age
Since I am a woman
And women have a right not to tell
How old do you think I am
If I won’t tell you when I was born
They were then they weren’t then they were then they weren’t then they were then they weren’t. Stop me if this gets boring. Then they were. And this time, it stuck for awhile. She kept asking herself what the hell their problem was, but it was more him than her. He was the one that wanted to see other people, which is just another way of saying you want to sleep with someone else. You don’t just ‘see’ them and take them to the movies or dinner. It’s not the menu that you want to ‘see.’ It’s the whole person, in bed, and what they can do or can’t do; how they make you feel or not feel. During those times when they were apart, she’d never slept with anyone else; it felt weird, maybe she was old-fashioned or something. Or it was just that no one really interested her that way. He, on the other hand, she was sure had slept with all the women he could get in their times apart. If he had, he still had not found one that was better; just different. This made her think that the next time they broke up (it was inevitable) that she’d do the same thing.
Sometimes I miss it. The thrill, the exploration – the games. The validation. The fucking VALIDATION of identifying and going after something you want. And catching it. And letting go.
Dating. Something I plan not to do any time soon.
I dated my mother once.
A concept I do not enjoy being brought up at the dinner table. Why must I get asked this same trivial question, over and over? I was never meant to be held down by another person, rather, I was meant to be free. The vast, blue ocean is the only comfort and companionship I ever wanted (besides my dog).
“Dating? How do I even begin to understand the concept of this whole ‘dating’ thing?” Grace said, flabbergasted. She was never one to look at a boy, not even during class when the substitute didn’t know what era during history she was supposed to teach. Not that Grace ever minded’ she was too busy reading her sci-fi fanfiction.
Dating has become such a necessary nuisance. Why is this so? Why can’t a person live in peace if they decide not to be in a relationship with anyone? Why is being single such a taboo? What’s wrong with being happy on your own?
She watched the candle on the table flicker and go out. He was STILL TALKING. Oh dear god in heaven. She tried to smile wanly, but she couldn’t even manage one corner of her mouth. She looked over to the bar, hoping there was paint she could watch dry instead.
i wish i could be dating
im pretty good at mating
often baby making
is what im contemplating
rhyming about rhyming
this bar is getting metta
i know this is trivial
but ill still feel pretty hella.
The girls called it “carbon dating”. On a quiet night out, when the pubs were mostly empty, they’d find the oldest and most genial-looking chap they could and just sit with him. There were plenty of lonely old men in that town, and they thought it was a nice gesture to brighten up their evenings a bit. Besides, they found the name hilarious, as only a bunch of archaeologists could.
Left
Left
Left
Left
Right!
Dating went digital.
She laughed at the thought. Her, spending every waking moment with a significant other, and if not physically, then thinking of them, imagining every curve and contour of their face, wondering what they were doing at that very moment and thinking should I call?
Dating, a new age fad. we have all done it, some regret it, some cherish it. but not all come to a ‘happy ending’. Alas.. rules of the game.
Candle light. Wine glasses. Fancy food. Crazy prices. Beautiful clothes. These are the things many people think of when they think of a date. I’d honestly rather just order pizza and hang out at home.
Anxiety. I know that it is expected of me because of my age. Ugh, I am not interested.. Do I have to? I hate this kind of pressure. I know that he will likely do most of the talking as I think about the book shop, or even better, the characters. I wish I could be left alone. I wish I could be left alone. What’s the point of dating?
“In answer to your question, yes, if we were ever dating, then there would be a lot more touching. But we’re not sooo…”
“Ok, well let’s date! I’d love to finally get a hug from you. Even friends give each other those and you’ve never given the impression that I was ever allowed one. Hell just brushing hands with you sometimes felt like an imposition.”
“I thought you’d want a little more than that by now. We’ve known each other for awhile.”
“Well this just leveled up quick. So we can do more than hug?”
“I don’t see why the exploration of our new situation needs to be so chastely uninspired. Start off with a hug; see where it leads us.”
Fun flirty
“We went to the most amazing movie this afternoon. He said it was cliché, but I liked the characterization. He couldn’t argue with that. We had some popcorn fights as well – it’s our thing, you know. I had no idea he was so hilarious. I was dying of laughter when he cracked that one joke during a scene. And when the characters finally kissed, the whole atmosphere felt so romantic…”
“You two are dating?”
“What? No!”
“Dating?” Janae sputtered. “That’s not–that’s–I don’t have to answer that.”
Her mother gave her a look. “Is that what we’re saying these days?”
“He’s my familiar! I can’t help it that I inherited a humanoid out of everyone else in that stupid class.”
“Oh, so now it’s stupid? Careful, you might hurt its feelings.”
“Arghhh!” Janae threw her hands up in the air, storming out of the halfway house, her dark, glowering familiar floating after her.
The tension in the room lifted by several degrees, as the dark, pressing aura of the shadow elemental faded in time to each step she moved further away from the house.
Her mother rubbed her arms, absently, flinching at something unseen. “Don’t give me that,” she muttered, half-aloud. “It’s your fault. You’re the one that said you couldn’t be corporeal for longer than two decades. I told you it would cause problems.”
She listened for a moment and scoffed. “Can’t hear you darling–because she is definitely your daughter.”
I’d never thought of myself as the dating sort, I mean, sure I did practically crush on somebody for every bit of my life, but I never REALLY wanted it to end up with us dating.
He looked up at me with his translucent eyes, moving his black hair out of his eyes.
I was hardly convinced this was real life as I stood there, frozen in my spot. His body was tense as well but managed stepping closer to me.
His toes touched mine, and his hands fiddled with his dress shirt’s collar, stretching it away from his neck.
“Yes.”
you can only do so much with carbon dating
if it’s anything that matters and it’s too old
you have to move to potassium argon dating
and that only works at sites with a history of volcanic activity
so we can never know much of anything
so why try
the thing about liminal spaces
the only thing i’ve found
is to cross safely
keep your eyes averted down
“So…are you two…”
I eyed Martin cautiously. “Are we two…?”
He looked down at the floor. I could see his ears going red. “Are you two…dating?”
I looked at my wife and couldn’t help chuckling. That seemed to embarrass my seven-year-old student even more, so I left my shopping cart and knelt next to him.
“We’re married, dear,” I said to him as his mother began walking down the aisle toward us.
Oh well there is a topic i don’t love. I date…Sometimes…..Sometimes I’m serious…sometimes I’m not. In the bast few years I have had things that could have gone really really well….but they didn’t. I thought they just weren’t meant to be…But then I sometimes think I submarined it. Do I sabotage myself? why would I do that? I want a relationship so bad….at least I think I do.