I was walking down Second Avenue early Saturday evening. In front of me was a couple. The guy had a loud voice. As a writer about life, I pay attention to small stuff going on around me. As he passed a manicure salon, Mr. Loud Mouth looked in and in a know-it-all tone, stated, “Those poor women in there have no Saturday night date.” His lady asked why he thought that. He asked if she’d seen what they looked like.

His premise was that those women would have a hard time getting one because they weren’t attractive. Men in NY could have their pick and they’d be at the bottom of the heap. All this was discerned in the few seconds it took to walk by a small nail salon. He went on to say that women in NY were desperate for a Saturday night date, so these women must be unhappy. His Dorkette agreed.

I wanted to yell, “Oh no you didn’t!”

But he did. This guy was dorky looking. I wanted to ask him if he’d seen the woman he was with. They were 2 unattractive people making fun of women who were certainly no worse than they were. And judging them, assuming these women were woeful without the date he assumed they didn’t have. Maybe they had husbands or boyfriends at home. But this dorky couple was gleeful in their gloating analysis.

As I stayed at their pace to listen in, it was hard to restrain myself from kicking his dorky butt!

He talked like he was with a hot chick instead of his dorky female counterpart. Yet they chatted like experts about how sad it was that these women weren’t attractive enough to get a Saturday night date. I stayed behind them, listening. I wanted to ask why they felt so superior and why this merited such a heavy discussion.

They seemed so smug. Was it because they’d once struggle to get a date and now had to gloat over what they assumed was other people’s unhappiness? I wanted to tell Dorkette to check herself out in the mirror before she judged others. And, to be objective about the “prize” she was with. I’d rather be alone forever than with him!

Okay, you can tell it really annoyed me!

Saturday night is symbolic for many. Date night. Do or die for some women. Men find it a significant night too, but women tend to put more into it. Some feel that not having a date on Saturday night makes them less of a fabulous women. Guys have told me they feel obligated to ask someone out on Saturday night to avoid a problem. Or, they avoid it, lest the women read too much into seeing him on that sacred date night.

It wasn’t till I had my adult self-esteem in place that I recognized how evolved I was as a teen. Even though I was insecure and didn’t value myself or feel attractive, I did enjoy solo time. I’ve always loved to read and when I didn’t have a date on the hallowed night, I was fine getting lost in a book. My friends didn’t understand. Most would do anything and go with anyone to have a date. Me, I’d weigh whether the guy asking me out was worth giving up my book for.

I still feel that way. People don’t understand that I enjoy being on my own. I enjoy dating too, when he’s worth my time. Saturday night is just one of 7 nights of the week, unless you magnify its importance. When you’re insecure, you’re more likely to worry about what others think and you don’t want them to think you can’t get a Saturday night date.

Now that I’ve recovered from DoorMat Syndrome, I don’t care what others think most of the time. A Saturday night date is nice if it’s with someone who I really enjoy being with. But so it a Monday night date. What’s most important is getting comfortable in your own skin. Focus on being loving to YOU and make a date with yourself to do something fun if there’s no man or woman you’d enjoy going out with. The dorky couple probably were unhappy if they had to pick apart women they didn’t know. When you make yourself happy, Saturday night is just another night of the week that you’re enjoying every night of!

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