Maybe this should be my Tinder profile. If I was on it…which, yuck.
I’ve said it in the past, but this recent breakup has only affirmed my inclinations. I enjoy companionship and being in a committed relationship, but I abhor dating. But unfortunately it is a necessary evil to navigate the hearts and minds of two different people to understand compatibility. Those early moments are nice when you have an attraction, that spark that makes you giddy with excitement over the next time you’ll get to see them, the next clever thing you’ll say in a text message, or even the grand gesture you have in store to sweep them off their feet.
But as time passes, you begin to discover differences as well. Like how one of you likes 70s and 80s Progressive rock and the other would rather listen to 90s R&B. Those are little things and pretty trivial, but sometimes they pile up. At my age, each passing year or decade means that you have built another layer onto that wall between yourself and someone else.
I know at my age, I face a few limitations. For one, I’m nearly 45. My birthday is in September. I like whiskey, Diesel brand cigars, and cool hats if you want to send me anything (size 7 3/8). One of the limitations I have is that dating someone close to my age usually means someone who might not be able to keep up with me physically. This is an observation of how most adults my age are either crazy active physically, or have let themselves go to the point were walking from the car to the bar is the most activity they do. I’m not really into Yoga and crossfit and the physical abuse those who are truly obsessed with keeping the hands of Father Time at bay either. There has to be a middle ground.
The alternative is dating someone younger than me, which means likely someone who has put off having a kid to pursue their career. They might be looking to start a family. I know that I just don’t have it in me anymore. My son, as awesome as he is, wears me the hell out. For someone who often daydreams of the day when they don’t have to worry about keeping anyone else alive, or paying child support, it would have been much more convenient if he had been born a few years earlier. I’m ready to be done with kids for a while, but I will cherish these next few years when my son is at that age where kids are fun and not yet assholey teenagers.
But there are days, as active as I am, where I don’t want to run and jump and play and I just want to have a mellow day. Which does indeed suck for him. I think my dad hit that point at 32 though.
So, yes, younger women are off the list too. Not to mention the few times I have been out with someone ten years or more younger than me we don’t have a lot in common. When they talk about Arthur the Aardvark, it’s based on their own viewership, unlike mine, which was always under duress because it’s what was on the TV while I was trying to get my kids to school. There’s a good chance that if you were born during the Clinton Administration, we won’t have much to talk about.
My former gf said early on, “I’m done raising children and boyfriends.” I think I might have adopted that philosophy. My son being the exception to the rule of course.
Not since unrestricted submarine warfare has there been a more extensive use of subtrefuge, tactics, and sitting around waiting for the other to make a mistake than dating. I have no desire to interpret red flags or sort through the incoming data of what is bullshit and what is real anymore. I don’t care to get to know what someone’s favorite songs are anymore, learn the names of their childhood pets, or other information that will probably just get shitcanned anyway once everything falls apart. I am also done with trying to coordinate times to see each other, growing intimacy, building on healthy communication skills, and the big one: allowing myself to trust again.
Even if I meet someone who knocks my socks off, odds are that she will have cats, and that’s a deal breaker. Always with the stupid cats.
Dating these days is fucked anyway. Quite a few of my female friends have heard my stories of grand gestures for women I was in relationships and they have been amazed. Their reaction is usually “Nobody has ever done anything like that for me!” The sad truth is at this point, there are only a few of us left who are stupid enough to make grand gestures. In this dating climate, you either get called a Simp or you throw these grand gestures at women who take them for granted, or never experienced them because the women that have come before them burned these poor bastards out on grand gestures.
Right now, if the end result is the same from phoning it in vs. grand gestures, what do you think your man is going to pick? This is why men send dick pics to women rather than having any kind of meaningful conversation. Chances are that women who are on these sites don’t want coffee brought to them at work on a lark. They just want that D. The common ground is people are all on online dating to scratch that itch.
Nobody would even know what to do with a grand gesture at this point anyway.
So, the strange feeling that I have is I’m just done. I anticipate my singleness to last quite a while, without anything romantically fulfilling in the foreseeable future. I have my son to take care of. My book to write. And time to think. Over time, I’m sure I will build up my wall with my own personal opinions, biases, and boundaries that I won’t see how it would ever be practical to let anyone in anyway.
Future deal breakers would probably be “I think people who don’t put ketchup on their hamburgers are awful.” Or “Your car takes Premium gas only? Well, when the Revolution comes, I hope Robespierre cuts your head off in the first round.” Some petty Jerry Seinfeld shit right there.
Believe me, the last go around, I gave and received a good deal of grand gestures. But that doesn’t change anything about how it all ended. It was a nice journey while it lasted, but I’m just tired. The idea of getting to know someone to those depths again…I just can’t. I look at my friends trying to make sense of their relationships, and I think there are better uses for my time. Like watching a new Netflix series.
This is not a world for the Romantic at heart. It’s a world for selfish assholes looking to scratch that itch. People looking for attention, validation, approval. I don’t fit in.
So, the strange feeling that I have is contentment. Companionship is a wonderful, amazing thing (when it works). Believe me, when it doesn’t work and you are stuck with that person, and I speak from experience, there is no worse hell on this world. Yesterday I went on a solo adventure. I didn’t have to coordinate times, I didn’t have to wait for anyone, and no one had to wait on me. It was a full afternoon of new experiences that I had just for myself. I get to enjoy those moments too. I don’t need anyone to bear witness for my life. Well, other than my faithful readers. That much is nice. I don’t need to worry about keeping anyone awake at night because I can’t sleep, and I don’t need to have that pit in my stomach telling me something is wrong or that someone is drifting away based on how they worded a text.
This way is fine. Do I sound bitter? Okay, that’s fair. Maybe I am. But that is just another layer of bricks in my wall which is called a Defense Mechanism. Sometimes it’s lonely, but otherwise, it’s doable. And I don’t need to second guess myself based on the behavior of others. Maybe one of these days I can move somewhere that allows pets. Definitely not a cat.