Currently Chasing: A Date

Things are tough in Afghanistan. Not only is there no indoor plumbing, but we live right next to a pond full of our own shit, and I’m quite certain I’ve been in contact with enough of it to equal an entire terd. Also, there are an insane number of men here, but you’re not allowed to have sex. And, there are plenty of places you can go while being accompanied by a man, but I’m sorry, nothing you do in Afghanistan can be considered a date. If I have to wear my uniform or PT gear, it is not a date. If you are toting an M-16 around your neck, it is not a date, if there is a chance of a rocket attack in the middle of our smoothies and light conversation, it is not a date, if I have to get to know you while we wait in a bunker for the all clear sign, it is not a date, and if I can’t kiss you at the end of the night, IT IS NOT A DATE.

So needless to say, despite the fact that I had some fun with a certain Brit, a Bad Ass Mother Fucking EOD God, and an amazing-bodied Canadian, I have not been on a date in about eight months. I want to go on a date!

A friend of mine is coming into town Sunday. I say ‘friend’ even though I’ve never met him in person, and I say ‘town’ meaning fucking Afghanistan. It’s crazy to think that I’m actually meeting facebook friends over in this place, but it seems like Afghanistan is the new craze. You guys, let’s go to war, everybody is doing it!

He has invited me to dinner. My initial reaction when people I’ve never met invite me out is … tell me what is wrong with you up front so I don’t have to spend the entire meal figuring it out. But this guy is a colleague. He reads my blog, knows I’m insane, and still wants to pay for me to eat, so he can’t be all bad right? Besides he wins points for the line, “I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it this week, but I’ve waited my whole life to meet you so one more week won’t kills me.”

But this will not be a date. Refer to the above rules. He will not be toting an M-16…but I will be in some sort of official uniform and I will be carrying an M-9 (for protection…although the only thing I’m really afraid of around here is the possibility that I may accidentally shoot myself.) And, we will be in AFGHANISTAN. Nothing date-like happens here. Although my roomie said she saw some people making out by the laundry room like a couple of teenagers, but let’s face it. They probably were teenagers. As war gets older, the warfighters seem to get younger and younger.

Last night I went and had coffee with a great friend. He may have wanted to call it a date, but it wasn’t. It was coffee. And even this sign in the coffee shop reminding you to keep your heavy ass weapons away from the glass is a constant reminder that you are eating a brownie, but it’s a brownie you got in ball sack Afghanistan.

What I’m telling you is that when I get back to the real world, I want to go on a date. My friend datemedc has been going on all kinds of dates. Someone took her to a swingers club and then snow tubing. That is the kind of spontaneous, ridiculous shit I want to do. What I don’t want to do is pretend I’m dating you as we stroll through feces particles while wearing body armor and pretending that everything we eat doesn’t taste like dry rat. I’m chasing America. I’m chasing a date.