Was dating fun during your teen years, I ask you, because I bear little recollection of such, as I was more likely to be found with my head buried in a voluminous book (or at a rock concert!), on my own volition, on a Friday night back in that Jurassic era of my past experiences. It was the same as it is now, however, and it’s not due to the fact that I’m lacking in offers to step away from the book–or computer keyboard. What drives this lack of interest or my, admittedly, tepid, half-hearted attempts to venture into serious dating?
Part of the blame could be attributed to my over-analytical mind and part of it is due to my notoriously indecisive astrological sign of Libra, according to the Astro Twins. The latter is strangely more discombobulating since I claim to be a rational thinker, but there goes that dichotomy. While at it, let me throw you a bigger of these contradictions, that perhaps, figures more prominently into why I remain such an agnostic about dating.
Yes, I too am a statistic, finding myself single at this unconscionable age. My case resulted from a failed marriage. I told a rather charming Southern gentleman caller that neither loud screaming nor cheating was involved in the dissolution of my longish union, but rather, it was the more insidious estrangement from the other person–as perceived by both parties. He understood and explained the same had culminated in us sharing that delectable first date on Halloween night (which neither of us quite realized). So, why not continue-to-continue with the Southern gentleman, you may ask? Our communication was great and his sense of humor was not only present but sublime. Yet here comes the catch–which played the biggest role into why I’m not with him.
All the single ladies of a certain age–the forty plus gang–are you looking for a real relationship? Do you want to find your soul mate? The latter makes me cringe more than I can explain here. But let me try. Can you picture the loveliness and vastness of the Grand Canyon? I tell the silly joke that we don’t have one in my native Italy because we have no place to fit it. Now, let’s picture you–a single such lady–standing on one end and a gentleman caller standing on the other. He need not be a Southern one and it need not be Halloween night (unbeknownst to either of you). He could have that similarly devastating sense of humor and could entice you with a perfectly executed Dana-Carvey-Church-Lady dance. But, let’s face it, you’re on the other side of the Canyon and there’s a wide, deep chasm between you, because he may see you as candy and you may see him as a possible beau, instead.
Forgive me for putting it so bluntly by being direct. If a man of our certain age is likely to find himself single and free again–and statistically it’s proven this is in the realm of great possibilities–he may be even further from you than any given visible object in your rear view mirror. He may not want to commit–particularly after exiting a long-term relationship–but may be more prone to sample all the other 30 ice cream flavors after having had just vanilla on Sundays. This can make him the dreaded serial dater and, although he may be as wanted and searched-for by you and the FBI, he flies under the radar and the two of you may not meet at the emotional corner–yet!— for never has there been a greater chasm or divide between the genders than there is likely to be at our age–not even in our dumbfounded, haplessly awkward teens. My advise is to take the above into consideration–or simply, don’t leave home without putting it in the back of your mind, as you valiantly head towards those first dates, again and again, more awkwardly and expectantly than when you were a lovestruck teen.