That’s assuming they haven’t run screaming in the other direction already! 
There’s a difference between “being terrible” at something and just not enjoying the process. Both my wife and I were in multiple long term (and numerous short term) relationships before we got together so the evidence is there that neither of us are a troll or unable to create relationships. However it was a means to an end and we’re both happy we got there.
Thanks for saying this, I left it out. I didn’t mean for my post to come off so ‘woe is me’. I’m reasonably attractive and according to my family something of a catch. But I’m an introvert with at best adequate social skills. Add this to the fact that some people seem incapable of being genuine and an evening with Netflix or my Kindle is so much more appealing.
Having been married twice, the first time for 14 years, I was much older (my mid 30’s) when I started dating again. I had a great time dating the first go round up until I turned 23 and married the first time. The second time around was even better than my younger days primarily for two reasons. One, I was more mature, knew myself, etc. And two, I had more money. As a broke high school and college student, there is a limit on what you can do while dating. Creativity has to play a large part of it. But in my mid 30’s, with substantially higher income, flexibility to travel, etc. The ability to spontaneously go for the weekend to Vegas or Cabo made dating a hell of lot more fun.
Oops, wrong thread.
Huh? 
If you’re determined to see smugness, I guess you’ll see smugness. What on earth are you seeing as smug in my reply?
In the same way that baking a good blueberry pie might be harder than playing football, maybe. But it happens that I’m real good at baking blueberry pie, and I’m terrible at playing football, because they’re different skillsets.
For me, I had a very hard time treating a date as a low-stakes activity: it felt very high-stakes to me viscerally, even if intellectually I knew it was low-stakes. My placing high stakes on the date came through to the women I was interested in, I’m afraid, and was kind of a turn-off for them.
I totally agree with this. Remember how I said dating was high-stakes to me? So are relationships. That’s why, I think, I’m better at relationships: the amount of focus and energy I put into the whole shebang is a good amount to put into a relationship, but entirely too much to put into a date or a flirt.
Again: this isn’t something I’m bragging about. I mean, you might think I’m being smug about being a good husband, and maybe that’s possible, because it really is something I work at. But the being-bad-at-dating? Not remotely something I’m smug about in any way: it was a miserable wretched lonely time of my life when I was dating, and I’m so glad it’s over.
What he said. Also, I just really really hated the dating scene, and its insincerity. It felt like everyone was always wearing a mask, and it was nearly impossible to figure out what was inside there. My now wife felt the same way. She had been badly hurt and had promised that she would never allow anyone else to get that close again. We were work friends for something like five years before we ever once saw each other outside of work. “Dating” would have never ever have brought us together.
If I said, “I’m glad I’m not dating because I have a low value on the sexual marketplace,” does it come off as less smug?
Yes.
Also, can we differentiate between people who dislike dating because they repeatedly get rejected (usually men), and people who hate dating because they repeatedly have to reject people (usually women)?
Two really different experiences there. There’s also the third category of people who can’t even get a chance to be rejected, but we usually roll them into the first group.
Personally, I like dating, but I’m no good at it. I like it because it has low stakes, as mentioned, in contrast to regular socializing, which haunts me more. If I blow a date, who cares? If I “blow” a party or get-together, my entire social network thinks less of me.
This can lead to losing my job, never getting a date again, increased government scrutiny, etc. Society sucks, and in general I like to stay away from it. But a pretty lady who wants to avoid society with me? Awesome, bring her on.
I have always hated dating. It was nerve-wracking trying to figure out what the other person wanted/didn’t want, and being too scared to ask. I also found it extremely discouraging and disheartening when a relationship bit the dust. I look back and fondly remember some of the fun times I had with people who were special at the time, but to view my years of dating as a fun learning experience would be glossing over tons of anxiety and heartache, to say nothing of being hurt, and worst, hurting others.
Another thing to think about is the Prisoner’s Dilemma of Flirting, as described by Steven Pinker.
Flirting is one of several areas of human interaction (bribery is another) in which plausible deniability is really important. You have four possible situations, given a flirter and a flirtee:
-Flirter is sincere, flirtee is uninterested.
-Flirter is playful, flirtee is uninterested.
-Flirter is sincere, flirtee is interested.
-Flirter is playful, flirtee is interested.
If the flirter is playful, then if the flirtee is interested, things progress. If the flirtee is uninterested, the flirter can shrug it off and do a socially acceptable variant of sour grapes (“I didn’t care about that relationship possibility anyway!”) and everyone’s still okay.
If the flirter is sincere, then if the flirtee is interested, things progress. If the flirtee is uninterested, the flirter has no room to save face, and everything gets awkward for everyone involved.
That’s why, according to Pinker (or my fuzzy memory of his work in The Stuff of Thought), flirting is generally playful: it allows plausible deniability in case the other party isn’t interested. That’s not a dynamic that comes up in a steady relationship, in which both parties know the other is interested; there’s not really a call for plausible deniability.
Thing is, I’m terrible at that playful plausible deniability. If I’d been better at it, that part of my life would have been a lot happier.
For me, “I’m glad I’m not dating anymore,” is short-hand to say that I’m glad I’ve reached the point in my life where I am happy by myself, can finally honestly admit that I am terrible at intimate relationships (my three ex-husbands will vouch for this) and that, thank heavens, I don’t have to try to be in one anymore.
I spent 40 years repeatedly trying to get into love relationships, trying to make them work, trying to make them better, chafing at the disappointments and restraints on me, and then trying to get out of them and find another, better one. I did it because I really thought being married was what would make me happy and fulfilled. (It didn’t help that both of my parents had beat a lot on that particular drum when I was young, along with an extra a-woman-needs-a-man-to-provide-for-her riff from my dad.)
I am finally old enough and mature enough to acknowledge that I’m selfish, self-centered, and need a lot of personal space. The compromise needed to be a good life partner is beyond me. I can be a great friend but I’m not a good mate.
What you hear in my voice is not smugness; it’s relief.
Same situation here. I wasn’t good at dating, and didn’t read signals. Maybe I’m a better husband than I was as a date. When one is rejected a lot, it’s easy for dating to be more high stakes. Am I smug about being married to the love of my life for the last 18 years? Yeah, probably. When I read or hear about someone going through what I did, I genuinely feel for them and hope they find someone (or like in my case, get found).
Absolutely. I see “I’m glad I’m not dating anymore” as a comment on the unpleasantness of the experience of dating, usually in response to a dating person’s horror-and-humour stories, not as smug at all, and nothing to do with an inability to read body language.
I’m probably “dating” myself elder-wise ( 
), but for my wife and I, the stories of our single friends navagating the wonderful world of computer-assisted dating strike us as alienating; the thought of having to attempt that, as appears almost ubiquitous these days, horrifying. No doubt we would adapt if we had to.
I see it more as I hate practicing and once I’ve won the championship I don’t have to any more. No consolation prize involved.
If I ever had to date again, I’d want to use computer dating, because my biggest problem was determining whether someone was interested/available. When I was in college we had mixers, attendance at which meant you were looking. Computer dating is more like that.
Wait - people who think opposite of this are smug?
I think it depends on age.
At around age 40 their is a serious look of males who are 1. educated 2. have a good job 3. mentally stable 4. still single. The old phrase “all the best ones are taken” rings true. Yet their are often tons of single females that age out looking.
So at that age the right 40 year old male can pretty much take their pick.
Now in my 20’s I was still a dorky, awkward young man and at that age women were often at there peak in terms of attractiveness and the women had their pick of the men.
If I were venting about my dating life, I’d be more likely to hear smugness in someone saying dating is all about having fun and experiencing life and meeting new and exciting people. Especially if that person was married. Why? Well for one, because it suggests the reason I don’t enjoy it is the result of me not approaching it the “right” way.
And two, if dating was that much fun, no one would quit doing it. Not only does it often require repeated rounds of disappointment, dashed hopes, and/or awkward rejection speeches, it also requires one to become detached enough so that the disappointment etc. doesn’t affect their self-esteem or sanity. That kind of juggling act is not sustainable for most people, nor is it fun when it stretches on multiple decades.
Humans tend towards longterm exclusiveness because it’s a lot easier to navigate a relationship with one person that is emotional invested in you (and vice versa), than enjoy endless games of cat-and-mouse with near strangers.