AKA "My Year of Living Dangerously".
Maria Dahvana Headly spent a year in which she dated everyone who asked her. Including women and the homeless. She used the term "date" rather loosely.
She was jaded by the dating game. Are you kidding me? She was 20 for Chrissakes. What does she know from jaded?
Oh, and she didn't really date everyone. She eliminated "the drunk, the drugged, the violent, and cheating husbands". Would have been a much different, and possibly better book otherwise. Her dates included a "homeless man, several non English-speakers, ten taxi drivers, two lesbians and a mime", according to Marginal Revolution.
She ultimately found happiness with the older, divorced serial killer. No. Not really. The older (by 25 years), divorced man with kids. And she married him.
I'm not sure that marriage should be what defines a happy outcome to this endeavor. I do know that if I went on 150 dates in one year, I'd go nuts. 150 dates with anyone. And I'm not sure that if I wound up married at the end, I'd consider myself fortunate.
Unless, of course, I had visions of a lucrative book deal dancing in my head.
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