OK, I’ll be absolutely honest — I spent this past New Year’s Eve alone. Sure, I could have salvaged the situation with a round of frantic last-minute calling, but I never got around to it because I had to go and get into a fight. Fortunately, I was the only one who got hurt. You see, I picked a fight with myself. And on New Year’s Eve day, no less. Almost out of nowhere and with virtually no warning, I started in on myself.
So, who’s your lucky date for New Year’s Eve?
Please. You know darn well I don’t have any date tonight.
What? The Duke of Dating flying solo on New Year’s? I’m stunned. How can it be?
I don’t want to talk about it. It just worked out that way.
It doesn’t “just work out that way.” You worked it out that way. How many coffee dates have you had this past year?
Too painfully many to remember.
And not one of them was available for New Year’s Eve?
You don’t just ask someone out on a date for New Year’s Eve. It’s a very meaningful night. A very expensive night. It’s not for “a” date; it’s for “the” date.”
So with all those coffee dates, how come none of them worked out into “the” date?
You want a reason for each? She wasn’t attracted to me. I wasn’t attracted to her. She wanted someone who made more money. I wanted someone who talked about something other than herself. She wanted to have more kids. I wasn’t communicative enough for her. She didn’t have a sense of humor. I didn’t have a passion for four cats. Shall I continue?
You know what you’re doing, don’t you?
What am I doing?
It’s so obvious. For every woman you meet, you’re finding some reason, any reason, to keep you from starting a relationship.
Is it? You mean to tell me you meet a woman who’s perfect in every way, except she has four cats, and that’s the deal-breaker?
Look, I never said she was perfect otherwise. And besides, if I didn’t want a relationship, what am I doing spending all this time and energy meeting women?
You really want to know?
I asked, didn’t I?
You’re addicted to dating.
Get out of here.
Exactly. That’s the message you’re giving these poor women: “Get out of here.” For you, it’s all about the thrill of the chase. Ms. Right’s just around the corner. The next one’s going to be flawless. Well, get this, oh Sultan of Singles: There is no Ms. Right; there is no flawless, and there is no satisfaction for you if you keep on this way. One day you’re going to wake up to find yourself 78 years old and on your way to your next coffee date. That what you want, Pops?
Of course not. But none of the ones I’ve met this year feel right. I’ve had coffee dates where everything just clicks, we start dating, and before long, we’re in a relationship.
Sounds lovely. And where are those “everything-clicks” women now?
They didn’t work out.
They didn’t work out? Or you subconsciously torpedoed the relationship so you could get back to your addiction?
You know, I’ve about had it with you. You disgust me. Get out of my sight.
I can’t. I’m you and you’re me.
What did I do to deserve this?
Well, come on, don’t give up on me. What do you suggest?
I don’t know. Since I am you, I’m somewhat limited in my perceptions and insights.
You don’t have to insult me.
I’m sorry. OK, look, let’s try something different this year. One word: “Stop.” Stop the coffee dates. Stop the singles Web sites. Stop the matchmaking services. Stop the personals ads. Stop the singles parties and dances. Just stop.
Are you heading for a celibacy thing? Because that’s not what…
I’m trying to keep you from a celibacy thing. Just live your life. Do your work. Be with your friends and family. Volunteer for something. Be out in the real world. She’s out there, but you’re trying too hard. Stop trying. Start living.
I don’t know. I’ll think about it.
That’s all I ask. Now let’s get some Thai food, and for the love of God, no “Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve.”
I was in no mood to fight with myself any more. I picked up some Thai food. I called a few loved ones. I watched a Marx Brothers movie. And I gave some serious thought to what I’d said to myself. It wasn’t so bad. Yes, I was alone, but not lonely, really. And maybe next New Year’s Eve, I’ll have a date. She can even bring her cats.
Mark Miller, a comedy writer and performer, can be reached at