About Love, Sex, and the Calamity of Middle Age Dating
Ok, I'll be honest with you right from the beginning, there's not too much sex, if any at all, involved in this story. I just used it in the title because it sounded good as a headline. The other thing that I have to come out clean about is the fact that I have no relationship skills, sex involved or not. Having three marriages under my belt makes me the last person you would want to turn for inspiration when a trip on the dating highway is involved. What makes me write this short expose on the pitfalls of dating is myself deprecating humor that kept me somewhat sane through tough and desperate times. I have been married for the most part of my life so my knack at dating was more than rusty right after my divorce. The only men I knew were the men I married and resented slightly later on while picking up dirty socks from under the bed. My father, helpful in his own right, reminded me every chance he had that I have a special gift for picking up the good looking dysfunctional alcoholic from a room full of men. Not that I was ever in a room full of men but however true that statement may hold in retrospect, I can't lie to myself that his rather crude prophecy didn't affect my choices in mating at one point or another. I was in my late thirties and freshly divorced after a 15 years marriage so dating, was the new frontier for me. Dating, seemed as foreign as, I don't know, rocket science. Or wait, I take that back, I probably would have been able to decipher semi decently a manual for a self propelled rocket but when it came to dating men I was totally aloof. My colleague from work, we'll call her Linda but you know that's not her real name, felt that I needed to be dating. In her well intended line of thought I was miserable because I didn't have a man in my life not because my matrimonial bliss disintegrated before my eyes leaving me scratching my head in utter stupor. She came to my desk one day and proudly announced that she has the perfect man for me. It was her cousin, we'll call him Larry, but again, you know that's not his real name, and based on her testimonies he was going to be the answer to my chagrin, the reason to wake up in the morning and go to bed at night, my own personal albatross in the skies of middle age dating. I resisted as much as I could. Me voicing out the desire to be alone for a while and ponder life and the pursuit of happiness was only met with loud protest and confident reassuring words that Larry was what I need ed. Being that I have always had a problem saying no to people and the potential of hurting Linda's feelings made me say yes to meeting Larry.. Larry called me one night and bluntly told me that my happiness was just around the corner, that he never met a woman who didn't end up ecstatic after meeting him. Wow, how can you say no to such an advertisement? Larry sounded as the uber man himself. He asked me if I liked Italian food and who says no to Italian food, really?? We decided, or now that I think back I am pretty sure Larry decided alone, on a time to pick me up and go enjoy a scrumptious Italian dinner. Things started to get grim for me as we pulled into the Olive Garden parking lot with the blasting stereo and Larry's arm hanging nonchalantly off the window.But I still had faith in a happy ending Olive Garden or not. I struggled to get out of the passenger seat and tried to catch up to Larry who was already a couple of steps ahead of me. I caught up with him and made it inside to a table for two. The waiter showed up really quick to take our drink order and my enthusiasm was quickly deflated while Larry proceeded to loudly order a glass of chardonnay for himself and also for me. Now the night was looking dismal as it was so having someone else order for me a drink that I would never order for myself to begin with ( I don't like chardonnay )started to really tick me off and send me on the edge of my patience, which really wasn't such a long trip to begin with. By the time our main course arrived, and of course it was ordered by Larry without the slightest consideration to my own desire, I was looking for ways in my mind to escape this dreadful night. I remember during dinner going to the lady's room and pondering an escape through the small window on the back wall. I didn't. Instead I returned to the table and listened to Larry's stories from high school (which incidentally was the last record of schooling on his resume) where he played football and apparently was very good at it. I somehow made it through the night without the big vein on my forehead exploding or my fork wedging itself between Larry's eyes. I spoke with Linda the next day at work and she relieved me of the burden of explaining my annoyance when she sheepishly tried to rationalize to me that Larry thought I was not his type. "Remember, Larry is still out there, single and looking for a mate." |
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