Monthly Archives: February 2013
The entire dating thing confuses me. Does it confuse anyone else, I wonder? I am not asking this question hypothetically. I really do wonder if anyone else is as confused by the societal process for selecting a sex partner, significant other, companion or soul mate that we in the United States refer to as dating. It has me stumped.
Back in 2009, I was dating this guy who influenced me tremendously. Things didn’t work out with us. He had issues with aging and was interested in women 20 (or more) years younger than he was. I was only 12 years younger, so while we had fun for a while, his time with me was sure to end. Other than this, he was a decent guy, employed, funny, intelligent, a writer with a day job.
He lived in a home that he and his brother built. It was one of those Adair homes. He’d gone through a bankruptcy after his divorce and had downsized from a rather large multi-storied craftsman home to this smaller ranch-style Adair home. He tended to be a bit anal about keeping things clean and orderly. Everything was perfectly tidy and ordered. His home definitely did not look like the typical bachelor pad. I remember thinking that I loved the place.
Several years ago, I may have actually been married but separated at the time, a happily married colleague of mine was sharing how she met her husband. She’d waited to marry and had been single for a bit longer than her contemporaries. I remember thinking that I envied her. Oh, how I wish I’d not rushed into marriage and had lived out my 20’s and early 30’s as a single person. I may have mentioned this sentiment to her. I’ll never forget her next comment, “Being single, and remaining single for that long, really takes a significant amount of self-esteem.”
Red and pink balloons, chocolates in heart shapes with red, pink, silver, and gold foil wrapping, cards, dinners…disgusting. Valentine’s Day is a day of obligation. It’s a day of duty. It’s a day of, “If you don’t get her something, your proverbial goose is cooked.” It’s a day I’ve never enjoyed, no matter my relationship status. It always seemed, when I was in a relationship, that the men I was with were anxious about the day. Or they forgot. Or they simply didn’t know what to do. Or worse…and this did happen…they didn’t care and they did nothing.
Ever notice how, when once you commit to something, the universe conspires to convince you otherwise? The minute you decide you are, for sure, going to go on that diet, all manner of beverages, desserts and delicious cuisine are offered you. The minute you commit to daily exercise the kids suddenly need rides right when you planned to exercise. The minute you decide that you’ve given up on dating, suddenly your dance card is full.
I am a freaking hypocrite.
I said I didn’t want to date anymore. I meant it. I really did. What am I saying? I still mean it. I do so love my independence and my life right now.
Best intentions have flown out the window. Innocently, though it was. I didn’t intend to get a date out of the interaction. I made a simple comment on Facebook, in response to a comment that resonated with me.
Next thing you know, we’re meeting up to listen to a local live musician we both know.
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