Chapter Dos

After being single for over a year now, I'm starting to think that two dates is the new 'long term' relationship. This stems from the uninformed decision to try the online thing. I gave it a go. I tried the ones the require you to answer 100s of questions, only to be paired up with guys half-way across the continental U.S. Yeah, guilty as charged; I signed up and even paid to have some people, supposedly with degrees in psychology, pair me up with The One. I did get a fun pen-pal out of the deal. If I ever go to Florida, maybe we'll hook up. Which, apparently, is all people want today anyhow. Or they realize, mid-way through communications that they, in fact, are not ready to date. I don't know how it suddenly dawns on them that they've only been divorced for a few months, so it may be a little soon to jump into something else... I'm glad that someone like myself – someone who is seriously doing research to find a life partner - could bring this self-awareness to that person. But why did he post a profile in the first place?

I tried another popular site - one that my friends swore by. They had luck, their friends had luck, everyone had luck! Surely this would be my ticket! I had several 50+-year-olds 'wink' at me. A wink. What the fuck is that? You can't even man-up enough to hit the other button - you know, the one that says 'message' - and actually write a sentence or, god-forbid, an entire paragraph to introduce yourself? Wink, wink... It's creepy. Would you respond to some dude who winks at you in a bar? Or some guy leering at you as he's leaning against a building and you walk by? Don't get me wrong – I'm not a super-powered feminist. I enjoy a good cat-call. It lets me know that I'm doing something right. All of those sweaty work-outs and avoiding fast-food hasn't been in vain. But if you really want me to acknowledge you, why would you simply wink? Man up. Say something. I know, I know. I, too, miss the good ol' days when a guy would just club a gal over the head and drag her off to his den. If only it were that easy.

At the time, I specified that I was not looking to have children. One guy attempted to win me over by stating that his daughter was 18 and basically out of the house. Now, I'm not exactly 'young' but that just creeped me out. I'm sure if I knew the guy, it'd be different. Maybe. But still. I'm picturing someone my father's age and I get the heebee jeebeez. I cancelled my membership.

But I did not give up. I decided to try a few free websites. One free website lead to quite a few dates. I was impressed! I found myself booked both weekends and weekdays. I left one date to go to another. This must be where they were all hiding!

Well, talk about being dropped into ice-cold water. I know guys are more visual - women are more mentally-stimulated. So it's inevitable that the guy, before asking you out on an actual date, will want additional photos. The guys ask for 'more recent' photos or just more photos in general. You know what they're getting at. Have you gained weight since that flattering photo you posted, are you now missing a limb, do you have 4 kids that you're not disclosing... Well it goes both ways. One guy I met had gained quite a bit of weight and I was certain his photos were more than a year old. Another guy was much thinner than his photos revealed. I actually thought he was a tweaker when we met because of the thinness accompanied by the fact that he was super fidgety. He calmed down after a couple of beers and was comfortable enough to show me a photo of his dog. He just happened to have it with him. Rather it was on him - tattooed on his forearm. It was a pitbull. And, in all honestly, it was a well-done tattoo. But I also over-looked the fact that he was a smoker. And not just a smoker, but a chain-smoker. Something I don't think I can over look. Unfortunately. Well, that and his desire to drive his vehicle all over our complex dune system. Rather, it would be a dune-system if people weren't driving all over it. Now it's a denuded group of hills that kick up sand every time there's more than a whisper of wind. I have few morals but one of them includes respecting our environment, even if it means my “hobbies” are restricted to reading and staring at my walls on Friday nights.

I've found that many lie about their height. Since when is 6'0 so close to my height (5'5) that I am eye-to-eye with the guy? Then there was the time that I went on one date that felt more like a job interview. Don't get me wrong - it was nice to be asked so many questions. But he was definitely fishing for work-related answers. It was pretty interesting. He followed up with a text that said "YOUR RAD" - I noticed the grammatical error but thought I'd let it slide. I didn't hear from him until a little over a month later when he texted me out of the blue to see what I was doing. Low score - no follow through.

I admit, I limited my searches by age. I had dated men in their late thirties and found that, if they weren't married and/or hadn't yet been married, there was a reason. Sure, this wasn't backed up by a large number of men and/or relationships. But I was sticking with this rule of thumb, even if it applied only to MY thumb.

But then, as I was emailing one guy, I saw the photo of 'XX guy.' He was cute. He was very cute. I thought, maybe I'd let my rules slide...a girl can be wrong, after all. Again, I didn't have enough experience or a large enough population to constitute a true 'n' so my hypothesis could not be statistically verified. I HAD to date this guy. This was for a higher calling; this was for science. Or statistics. Whatever.

So I dated the guy for a few weeks. And it turns out, my hypothesis is now VERY valid. He wasn't an alcoholic and he wasn't addicted to himself. I mean, sure - he was pretty into himself but not totally clueless as to how to treat a woman... However, this guy had another addiction: porn.

When a guy says 'yeah, I've just never found that special someone that I felt like I could settle down with...' RUN FOR THE HILLS!! What this translates into is 'I'm into freaky shit and I haven't found anyone who'll put up with it.' Rule #1: if you have a somewhat to very abnormal fantasy, do not reveal it during your first few dates. This guy wanted to call me his little girl. Um...no. And it's always when you're in the middle of nowhere when this type of stuff gets revealed. What do you do when you're driving in the middle of windy roads and he states that he's into that type of fantasy. And/or clinically depressed and on fulltime meds. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But maybe you want to hold onto those cards until you figure out if you two are going somewhere beyond a fun weekend. Maybe it's just me...

Rule #2: make sure you're on the same page before throwing bodily fluids around. It is not okay to haul off and spit on your partner, mid-copulation, without any warning. Titty-fucking is only cool in pornographic films. Those big-breasted porn stars might lead you to believe that women enjoy a good titty-fucking but think about it: what can we possibly get out of that? It doesn't feel good and the whole time we're worrying that you'll shoot your load in our hair or worse yet, into our eyes. I can't help but think of The Christmas Story and that famous line: “You'll shoot your eye out.” Jizz doesn't belong anywhere near one's ocular cavities. If you're in a longterm relationship and you want to shake things up – sure. It beats sodomy. But if you're simply getting to know someone and your not even a month into it? Not appropriate.

Let me now discuss why I'm writing this. I don't assume that you, the reader, really cares about this stuff. I don't assume that you can relate. Wait - are you in your 30s, single, and wondering what the hell is wrong with you? Then maybe you CAN relate. Are all of your friends married +/- kids? Oh - that brings up a whole other topic: kids. While I was trying the online dating scene, I didn't have any real drive to have children. And I thought this wouldn't be a big deal but I'm finding that only the freaky, unstable guys don't want kids. The kind, sweet, stable guys want to procreate. That made the search for The One difficult to say the least.

So while the majority of my friends are changing poopy diapers and worrying about how to feed a family of four on 1.5 salaries, I often feel like I get flack for doing whatever it is I do. Sure - sometimes I pop a top and hang out, watching really stupid television. Sure, I've been known to go on a bike ride on a Sunday - just to go on a bike ride, no destination in mind. Sure, I might get bored and get another piercing or tattoo. Okay, that last one's a joke. Sort of. But when your friends look at you like 'oh, wouldn't THAT be nice!'- that's when I just want to scream "YOU DON'T GET IT!!!" They have that special someone to share their day with. Their life with. They don't have to sleep alone at night. They don't have to stare into the mirror every morning, worrying that any new wrinkle, any minor break-out -- each of which could very well determine how you will spend the rest of your life: alone or with The One. Because you can't afford to have one of those days where you look like shit. You're in your thirties. You don't have time to waste. Remember that game Old Maid? Funny, right? Not when it's actually something that pertains to you. You try to hold your head up high and think positive thoughts as the friends around you are blissfully in relationships. Granted, this is a pretty one-sided view but it's my story so I'm telling it as I see it.  No relationship is perfect and I understand that.  I'm just afraid that it's getting to the point where I really do have to accept that finding "that special someone" is a luxury.  Not a necessity.  

chapter one

We are on the cusp of yet another holiday weekend as the years fly by, and I've decided to finally write about my dating life. It's been a source of entertainment for many groups at this point so why not share it with the rest of the world? You lucky people, you.

I'm currently watching a cheesy romantic comedy. It's terrible. Terrible acting, terrible lines, even terrible lighting. And, of course, it features some love-struck man who is totally adorable and romantic and says the darndest, cutest things. Maybe this is why we ladies have it so tough. What are we supposed to expect when this is what we're spoon-fed, each and every time?

Or each and every time you make the poor decision to watch a stupid, romantic comedy? I mean, no one twisted your arm and said “rent this Stupid Romantic Comedy or ELSE,” right? And who the fuck wrote this shit? I would suspect these movies are primarily thought of by women. But why would you do that to your own kind? Maybe it's some delusional, self-depricating female. Someone who's primary mantra is “Misery loves company.” I just want to know who the fuck comes up with these picture-perfect plots that always end just the way you'd hoped: tied up like a shiny, exciting present. And why? Why would this crazed writer portray a story like this? To keep our hopes alive? Maybe it's some sort of preventative solution to teen suicide. I don't know. All I know is, right now, I'm cursing the writer of this adorable plot and I'm only slightly embarrassed that I”m laughing out loud with a shit-eating grin on my face.

Back on track. What are we supposed to expect when this is what we're spoon-fed (with regards to relationships), each and every time? Instead we end up settling. We tell ourselves 'oh, I'm sure that was a mistake. A once in a lifetime mistake. He probably doesn't drink excessively...often. He didn't MEAN to pee on me in the middle of the night...' or 'it's okay, I like my alone time - ALL of the time' and 'oh no, honey; you stay home and surf while I go to my family reunion alone. It won't be weird when all of the relatives repeatedly ask where you are and how many years has it been since we started dating...' And, drum roll please - 'It's okay, I'll go to the funeral alone while you stay here and get smashingly drunk and pass out by 9 a.m. because it's Saint Patrick's Day - mind you, you're not even Irish...'

I suppose I ought to start off with a little about my of my relationship background. I was always obsessed with boys. I had boyfriends in preschool and elementary school. Only, back then you didn't call them that. Our innocent vocabularies were not yet tainted with such terminology. It was the beginning of forming relationships even if it only involved sharing marbles, playing He-Man on the playground, or chasing each other at recess. I always had a love interest. I think I was born with the hormones of a 17-year-old boy. At one point, I had a gaggle of guys who followed me around the playground. Those were the days. I peaked in 2nd grade.

Then hormones developed and bodies changed and the opposite sex became an intriguing mystery. I convinced myself that I was in love in 7th grade. Sure, we only held hands twice but THAT was it. That was the good stuff. I was planning the rest of my life with that guy. I don't think we really even talked much, if at all.

I was always the one who wanted more. I wanted to hold hands all the time and eagerly awaited my first kiss. I'd fantasize that it'd happen somewhere in the hallways of school. Somehow, it'd be just he and I and it'd be oh-so romantic. Well, he and I lasted through the summer - I'm not sure how, we didn't talk at all that I can remember. So the majority of that relationship was in my head. In my mind, we were happy and we were going to have a wonderful life together. I don't recall how we broke-up.

But the take-home point from this pathetic, fuzzy first relationship (aside from my gaggle in grade school) is this: how much of my relationships are just in my head? I know, I know. I sound like Sarah Jessica Parker from Sex In The City. But really; how much of it is reality and how much of it is just me, moving forward, assuming that the other person is on-board/on the same page? The easy answer is, of course, communication. The paralyzing fear comes when you attempt to communicate and ask where that other person is at. Say it's been two years and you're ready to move in with the guy. Two days prior, you had the most amazing anniversary dinner. You think, "Surely he's ready to take it to the next level!" You take that step and you decide to wrangle the beast we call “communication.” The phone conversation abruptly ends when he states that he not only doesn't want to live with you but he's not the marrying type.

End scene.

Two years down the drain, wasted on someone who was playing a game the whole time. Maybe some guys just like to have someone to parade around during parties and in public. Someone to show off, someone to make them feel important. I'm no psychologist. I'm just hypothesizing.

People change their minds and it's usually for the best. But still. It's understandable that some people may have a paralyzing fear when they think about said beast, aka: "communication."

And why have I always been so eager to enter into a relationship? I was already planning a life with the 7th grade boyfriend. Happily ever after in suburbia with 2 or 3 kids, driving a minivan or SUV to church and sporting events and PTA and cub scouts... Was this because that's how I was raised? Was this my mother's generation, spilling over into mine, seeping into my young, not-fully-formed brain and taking over like some rapidly spreading cancer?

There are no monogamous animals. None. It's NOT NATURAL. Even the species researchers once thought were monogamous have proven not to be so. It's smart, it's biological - it's natural. You're supposed to 'shop around' or see what's out there because there could be something bigger and better. The male bird who builds a more elaborate nest gets the female. That's when human female ditches Bob, who's been her life-long partner for 15 years, for younger, more toned Jared. It's even been discovered that the sperm of different males battle one another inside of the female (in other animals anyhow; I don't think they've studied this in people). It's all for the sake of fitness and survival.

My point is simply that monogamy isn't something that's natural. It's difficult. I'm all for it, I just want to point out that it ain't easy. We have more choices, more jobs, more places to live, ... how can you sit around and hang out with the same person with all those options out there? What if you develop an obsession for video games and your significant other can't tolerate them? What if your S.O. wants to go back to school - in another state - but your family is in your current state or town? Roles aren't as defined as they used to be. Women have more responsibilities, yet they're still often expected to maintain the role of a 50s housewife: work all day, clean the house, and make dinner. I see it happening and I'm speaking from personal experience.

I also realize that my inability to find a life partner is partially my fault for not speaking up and letting that guy know that he, too, could do the dishes and the grocery shopping from time to time. And let's face it - people are lazy. If you continually spoon-feed someone, they'll continually let you. "No, no - that's okay, let me take care of (insert chore)." And "No I don't need any help, stay here and read your magazine which is clearly more important than (insert chore or activity that you could be doing together)."

Understandably, I'm a little extreme but that's again due to my own experience. I used to attend parties, family reunions, and weddings 'stag,' even though I went to each and every event he wanted to go to. I'm not someone who needs a guy to go to every event with me. But it'd be nice to have people realize you're actually dating someone...5 years into the relationship.

But onward and upward. We learn from every experience. And this is just the beginning of these blogs. I'll report back as time allows. For now, feel free to judge me as I'm slogging back the rest of my wine, home alone in my one-bedroom apartment. But know this: I'm a single, strong, female who will not be settling. I'll find my Mr. Right one of these days. Until then, enjoy my dating saga as it continues to be published, one blog at a time.