I’ve been single since I divorced almost twelve years ago. I’ve dated a little. Had a little sex here and there. There were moments when I felt little flutters, ticklings of hope that maybe, maybe I was falling for this one or that. Then another week would go by and he was out of my life, the relationship not going far enough to even warrant a status change on Facebook.
It’s so hard to meet someone. Even harder to keep it going.
It’s not as if I haven’t tried!
- Profiles on Match.com, EHarmony.com, matchmaker.com, plentyoffish.com, and probably a few I’ve forgotten.
- An announcement to friends and family that I’d pay $5,000 to the person who introduced me to the man I marry.
- Joined a local singles group and ended up being the group chairperson.
- Personal ad postings on Craigslist.
Each time the date goes nowhere, I pull back, hibernate for awhile. That is, until this last time. After this last round of flops, I swore that I was going to withdraw myself from the market (i.e. the butcher market), and for forever be single (aka alone).
What was so painful this last time? It felt like there was a cosmic jokester screwing with my brain. It started with Bachelor #1, a man who spoke my spiritual language, a man who had some mojo going on, a man who took me out on romantic dates. Bachelor #1 was also a man who wouldn’t kiss me or hold my hand, even after the 5th, 6th, or 10th date. Finally, five months into this, I told him that I was starting to have feelings for him so I’d like to know his intentions. Was it to just be friends? Was it for this to eventually lead somewhere? After drying off from the hot tub, naked as we’d been, he took me out to sushi. He gave me a hug. And that was the last I heard from him.
So after five months of platonic dating, there were three men, boom, boom, boom! All who wanted a ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’.
Bachelor #2 insisted that I was not spontaneous since I wouldn’t invite him over to my house one night in order to ‘mess around’ while my daughter was asleep in her room. I had only had one prior date-a matinee- during which he suggested I go down on him there in the back row of the theater. Which I didn’t. To hell with spontaneous, what woman would say yes to this man?! That was the last of Bachelor #2.
I’m convinced that Bachelor #3 was not a bachelor. He never took me out on a date, never even paid for a coffee when we met at Starbucks. We laughed a lot when we hung out, but never kissed or held hands. The day after Bachelor #2 told me I wasn’t spontaneous, Bachelor #3 told me the same thing, for exactly the same reason. The timing was freaky.
Bachelor #4 was an ex of mine, the only man who had come close to being a long-termer. He kissed me one night, I felt nothing. I told him I just wanted to be friends. He kissed me again, snuck his hands under my shirt to grab my breasts. I kicked him out of the house. He did leave without too much fuss, but didn’t take it very well. He accused me of all sorts of things the next time we talked on the phone.
And that, was fucking that, I decided. No more, no more, no more!
Since then, I have eaten to my heart’s delight (and gained ten pounds), not exercised (what’s the point?), and have enjoyed not having to put makeup on in the morning.
I haven’t been miserable, just still alone. Eventually, I know I’ll climb out of this hole to emerge again. But it’s just so much safer in the dark.