We meet, we greet, then it’s happily never after

Is there a 12-step program for daters? If so, sign me up for DA -- Date-aholics Anonymous. Not that I’m addicted to dating. I can stop any time I want to. No, really. I’m just using it. Having my way with it. Then, when I find my soul mate, I’ll kick dating to the curb, like an expired carton of milk.

The thing is, though, I’m spending so much time and energy dating that it sometimes feels like an addiction. Or at least another career. If only it paid. And didn’t involve so much time at Starbucks. And didn’t require at the end of each meeting having to come up with a polite way to say, “It’s perfectly OK with me if we never see each other again for the rest of our lives; in fact, I’d prefer it.” Which usually emerges from my careful-to-be-tactful mouth as: “Very nice meeting you.”

In the first three years after my divorce, I went on 150 coffee dates. And by coffee dates I’m using the standard Merriam-Webster dictionary definition: “first-time meetings, usually ending in disappointment.” And I’m an optimist, mind you.

Now, I realize that 150 coffee dates sounds like a lot, but spread over three years, it’s just one a week. Of course, 15 minutes with the wrong person can seem like one week. But I learned something very important from those 150 coffee dates. I learned that if I had saved all the money I spent on them, I could have afforded a Hyundai.

Granted, four of the dates resulted in relationships. But 146 of them resulted in “very nice meeting you.” And a thorough knowledge of the differences between lattes, frappuccinos, chais and caramel macchiatos. I may have been dateless, but I was going steady with caffeine.

I do like the variety, though. I’ve gone out with a judge, masseuse, teacher, network executive, nurse, college student, speech therapist, doctor, actress, psychologist, lawyer, even a forest ranger. I had a first date in an art museum that featured life-size, nude, anatomically correct male and female manikins. One date, as soon as we sat down to brunch, removed a digital scale from her pocketbook and proceeded to weigh each item of food. Another date took a look around my apartment and informed me that if we ever moved in together, I’d have to get rid of all my stuff.

Remember that “Seinfeld” episode in which Jerry gets in trouble for being spotted making out with his date during “Schindler’s List”? A recent date suggested, as a first date, that we see “The Pianist,” another Holocaust-themed movie. Beautifully done, very powerful, but somehow doesn’t quite set the desired mood for kicking off a romantic relationship. Oh, sure, I did what I could to salvage things, commenting lightly, “My apartment’s in much better shape than that labor camp,” but strangely enough, that didn’t make her hot for me.

So why go through all the pain, the aggravation, the expense? The singles Web sites, Speed Dating, Great Expectations, singles events, personals ads, blind dates, coffee dates, matchmaking services, friend setups. I guess it’s because when you finally do meet your special someone, it’s ... well, it’s magic.

I just hope and pray that at the end of that first date, she doesn’t look me in the eyes and say, “Very nice meeting you.”

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Mark Miller can be e-mailed at markmiller2000@attbi.com.