Dating off the rack: Why dating and shopping at Marshalls are synonymous activities

My wardrobe is a treasure trove of hard-sought MVPs and random unsung heroes. Some are obvious steals a moron could have stumbled on, and others are unlikely gems I was proud to find hiding in improbable spaces. Some of my favorite outfits in the latter category I discovered at Marshalls.

But here’s the thing about shopping at Marshalls: You have to mentally prepare yourself to go there—because you’re not going to walk into Marshalls and have something wonderful magically handed to you. You’re going to have to work for it. More often than not, you’ll need to sift through mounds of crap you don’t want in order to uncover notable finds buried in the clutter.

Even if you discover something promising, which you customarily won’t, you’re going to have to try it on. There’s no such thing as your usual size at Marshalls. Nope. There are countless brand names whose shapes and styles vary immensely, so you either take it into the dressing room or risk returning it a week later.

That’s why 80% of the time, when I walk into Marshalls thinking I’ll just stop in, I take one look at that sea of endless racks, knowing full well there isn’t the slightest chance I’m psychologically fit to handle the task, and I turn right back around and walk out the door. Seldom in the mood, I admit defeat before I even begin.

In a lot of ways, shopping at Marshalls and dating are identical activities for me. Perhaps the reason I find dating—especially online dating, which I barely survived a few years ago—so overwhelming is because I am rarely mentally prepared for the racks of junk I’ll have to search through just to find a decent-fitting pair of pants…or person, whatever.

My online dating stint involved an infinite number of occasions in which I logged into my account with the sincerest of intentions, hoping to give it a chance, but one look at the disorganized merchandise—clearly not my style—sent me logging right back out. I didn’t have the stamina to go through endless possibilities, most of which wouldn’t work, in the hopes of finding something that might.

But there is one thing I often remind myself. Despite a lackluster trips-to-finds ratio, over time, my dedicated foraging has yielded some great dividends: that fitted, navy Ralph Lauren number with the lace overlay, the flirty black Calvin Klein halter dress I’ve worn to pretty much every fancy event for the past eight years, the only pair of yoga pants that fit me perfectly, and the long, gray wool Italian cardigan—costing half as much as it should—that I wear like a Catholic school uniform three seasons a year.

When I think about dating like a shopping trip, although it’s slightly depressing at times—because I know how many unsuccessful missions I have experienced—it also makes me hopeful. Even if the vast majority of outings produce nothing special, there is always a possibility the store might be restocked with one of those must-have items, so it’s worth it to keep coming back periodically.

I’ve landed on some great merchandise over the years—not to mention fantastic people. Maybe some were only seasonal items but still very much worth the effort. And who knows what (or who) else might still be out there.

For me, the biggest decision always lies in committing to the dressing room. If I can convince myself to try on one thing, chances are I’ll put forth the effort to try on several. It’s the first step that’s the hardest.

If I’ve learned anything in the past few years, it’s that you definitely won’t find anyone while sitting on your couch in sweatpants watching Netflix (although that’s pretty much guaranteed to be a solid night), and you won’t own anything other than sweatpants if you never force yourself to go shopping.

Whether finding a great outfit or the right person, sometimes the methods overlap: Either way, you have to leave your house once in a while and be willing to try some stuff on.

My best advice—in life, in love, and in fashion—is commit to the dressing room. When you want to say no, remind yourself that most great things come from saying yes one more time.