I never thought I would ever have to deal with this topic during this decade. It helps that I am drunk.
You see, I have -well, had- a boyfriend. While we didn't live together, it was a two year daily story of togetherness. His luggage, my luggage, combing the two sets and working in any additional small bags - it was good. For me.
For him, apparently, my luggage was the kind he really really liked; just didn't love.
At first, I laughed. Shocked. Then I stared at him. Had a clear vision of me grabbing his beautiful head and pounding his beautiful dimpled face repeatedly into the car window shield (yes, this happened in a car, after a date, on a Saturday night) until the blood flowed freely and I could leave him for dead. Not because I was heartbroken (that would come very soon later); but because he was making me single. Again. Which means I had to start dating. AGAIN.
I could absolutely positively fucking kill him for that.
Dating in my twenties was beyond fantastic. Men over here, men over there, men everywhere. I had my pick of various litters. Dick over here, dick over there, dick everywhere. I didn't want to marry, didn't even want a commitment. I was a City girl living big in her world career on track watch my smoke. Yeah babee.
Dating in my thirties got a little - and I do mean little- more serious. Had to start setting the foundation for the big 'I DO', for children, for the house (not a two car garage but a condo with a doorman or brownstone with stoop), for the car, for the credit cards, for the ring, for the prestige ('Oh sorry, can't come tonight, the HUBBY and I have plans...').
That didn't turn out too well. Obviously. I have - had- a terrible short fuse and threw them out as fast as they came in. Thought I had all the time in the world. Ha. HA.
Enter this decade and I threw my hands up in the air. Whatever happens, happens was my mantra. And boy did it keep happening. Terrible blind dates (did my friends REALLY know me??); terrible dates I made on my own (did I REALLY know me??); terrible dates I had the common sense to leave ('excuse me, you suck and I am leaving.').
Now...who do I date? As far as I can see, here are my options:
Men younger than me who consider me a 'sexy cougar' while addressing me as ma'am.
Men my age who are divorced and angry. Really ANGRY.
Men my age who want to date women the age of my god daughter (18).
Men in their fifties who find me 'sassy'.
Men over sixty who want to date women my age (the age of THEIR daughters).
I am fucked.
My attraction is to men who are men. Not boys. Not guys. Men who live life like they have no birth certificate. Live, laugh, love, hard, loud with a sense of responsibility, of gravitas when called for, of common sense daily. Men who walk not in front of me or behind me but beside me. And if they are in front, they at least have the decency to hold the door open.
Yes, I expect a great deal. For I am a great deal.
I realize that while my heart is healing, I am in no position to even consider dating right now. Can't see the trees for the forest. But, I always prefer to tackle unpleasant situations in advance, head on. It physically makes me sick to my stomach knowing that I will be 'out there' again -older, wiser and with a lot less enthusiasm. A LOT less.
But once I stop crying unexpectedly in cabs, on the toilet, when people greet me "hello"... But once I stop smoking cases of menthol cigarettes combined with morning afternoon evening vodka.... But once I start actually leaving my house to see sunlight...I will start taking stock of my (sigh) options. And attempting not to hurl in the process.
There is a silver lining to all of this: As with most things I don't want to do, when I finally do it...it usually turns out to be great.
*Fingers crossed*
xo,
Fabulously Fourty(ish)
You see, I have -well, had- a boyfriend. While we didn't live together, it was a two year daily story of togetherness. His luggage, my luggage, combing the two sets and working in any additional small bags - it was good. For me.
For him, apparently, my luggage was the kind he really really liked; just didn't love.
At first, I laughed. Shocked. Then I stared at him. Had a clear vision of me grabbing his beautiful head and pounding his beautiful dimpled face repeatedly into the car window shield (yes, this happened in a car, after a date, on a Saturday night) until the blood flowed freely and I could leave him for dead. Not because I was heartbroken (that would come very soon later); but because he was making me single. Again. Which means I had to start dating. AGAIN.
I could absolutely positively fucking kill him for that.
Dating in my twenties was beyond fantastic. Men over here, men over there, men everywhere. I had my pick of various litters. Dick over here, dick over there, dick everywhere. I didn't want to marry, didn't even want a commitment. I was a City girl living big in her world career on track watch my smoke. Yeah babee.
Dating in my thirties got a little - and I do mean little- more serious. Had to start setting the foundation for the big 'I DO', for children, for the house (not a two car garage but a condo with a doorman or brownstone with stoop), for the car, for the credit cards, for the ring, for the prestige ('Oh sorry, can't come tonight, the HUBBY and I have plans...').
That didn't turn out too well. Obviously. I have - had- a terrible short fuse and threw them out as fast as they came in. Thought I had all the time in the world. Ha. HA.
Enter this decade and I threw my hands up in the air. Whatever happens, happens was my mantra. And boy did it keep happening. Terrible blind dates (did my friends REALLY know me??); terrible dates I made on my own (did I REALLY know me??); terrible dates I had the common sense to leave ('excuse me, you suck and I am leaving.').
Now...who do I date? As far as I can see, here are my options:
Men younger than me who consider me a 'sexy cougar' while addressing me as ma'am.
Men my age who are divorced and angry. Really ANGRY.
Men my age who want to date women the age of my god daughter (18).
Men in their fifties who find me 'sassy'.
Men over sixty who want to date women my age (the age of THEIR daughters).
I am fucked.
My attraction is to men who are men. Not boys. Not guys. Men who live life like they have no birth certificate. Live, laugh, love, hard, loud with a sense of responsibility, of gravitas when called for, of common sense daily. Men who walk not in front of me or behind me but beside me. And if they are in front, they at least have the decency to hold the door open.
Yes, I expect a great deal. For I am a great deal.
I realize that while my heart is healing, I am in no position to even consider dating right now. Can't see the trees for the forest. But, I always prefer to tackle unpleasant situations in advance, head on. It physically makes me sick to my stomach knowing that I will be 'out there' again -older, wiser and with a lot less enthusiasm. A LOT less.
But once I stop crying unexpectedly in cabs, on the toilet, when people greet me "hello"... But once I stop smoking cases of menthol cigarettes combined with morning afternoon evening vodka.... But once I start actually leaving my house to see sunlight...I will start taking stock of my (sigh) options. And attempting not to hurl in the process.
There is a silver lining to all of this: As with most things I don't want to do, when I finally do it...it usually turns out to be great.
*Fingers crossed*
xo,
Fabulously Fourty(ish)
I loved this one. (I liked the one about the doctors too- but I'm not speaking to my gyn right now since she alluded to the fact that I was a woman of a certain age - fortunately she doesn't know I'm not speaking to her since it takes 6 weeks to get an appointment). I've always had trouble dating because I'm weird and romantic (so I've heard, I clearly think I'm perfectly fine) and find that a lot of men who are interested in me now are divorcees who are REALLY ANGRY or men who have found ways to extend boyhood into their late thirty something and fortysomething.
ReplyDeleteOh boy, as you can see, I know exactly how you feel. Sigh. But keep the faith Jennebella; we are all in this together. Whether we like it or not (lol!).
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