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And then there was Peter, who I met that night in a bar set in the basement of a haunted mansion.
He was 34, worked in home restoration, and looked like a guy I’d go for in Brooklyn, with an ample beard and amazing cheekbones.
We had a great night hopping from a seafood restaurant, to a cocktail lounge, to making out at a bar on a dock so close to the water you could dip your feet in.
Still, I both got annoyed waiting for him to come to me, and felt guilty over his two-hour commute.
Jason seemed eager for a committed relationship, but I ultimately didn’t see it going anywhere.
I went out by myself and by the end of Saturday night was rolling with a new friend group 10 people deep.
I also couldn’t believe the plethora of good-looking, gentlemanly guys who bought me drinks.
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And if that drive is the price for dating a decent guy, I feel for you, small-town ladies.(Jason was also the first real test of my approach to this trip.