A hot mess.
The Internet (and my mind) is fucking with me. I appear to be overheating.
Let me back up 24 hours.
Bullets Pictures of Mr. Ex are flying around from all sides of the screen through our mutual Facebook friends. Dodging them seems near impossible. Ever since I interacted with him in the flesh on multiple occasions so far this summer, it has occurred to me I definitely, definitely negated any kind of “steps forward” I had previously achieved over the first few months of separation. I’m back at ground zero…Which is also why I’m choosing to remove myself from continued communal interactions via river boating and BBQing hangouts; my raw heart can’t handle it. I’d be better off just skewering the broken pieces and adding them to the grill.
Next up, my colleague who is also single was recently talked into joining The Match.com (compliments of my own peer pressure) and before she could even blink, the Quarterback winked at her. That’s just awesome. Guess he isn’t taking my advice on resolving his trust issues with women before hitting the field again. It stung a little bit, but also validated my intuition to just move on.
I wish on The Match there was a Commenting box available — or better yet — a Reviewer’s section. Ya know, just like online stores have thru their web site for consumers. You can write up your personal experience of a product…its features, quality, durability, if the description on the package actually translates to real usage. That would be oh so helpful in online dating. In this case, I’d have to call QB’s bluff on “balancing work and personal life.”
Or like the Lawyer who I briefly dated last June & lied about his age. The guy just turned 40 but his profile page proclaims he is in his early 30’s.
Which leads me to my next subject — recycling. I recycle plastic, paper and aluminum products, but am making it my mission to not recycle men. Period.
The Lawyer is still on The Match and emailed me. Or should I say had the nerve to email me. Exhibit A: He took me to his beach house after knowing me for 3 weeks, then didn’t contact me again for another 2 weeks. Lame. And, now, he wants to know if I’d like to grab some sake with him (just like our first date). No thank you. His case is closed.
There was also yet another past bachelor who reached out yesterday — I formerly referred to him as The Artist. After several emails and a phone call, we were scheduled to meet in early December, but then Mr. Ex came back swinging into the picture. I was entirely too confused and overwhelmed to even fathom holding a conversation with a new chap at the time, so I gently canceled the date. I then later ran into The Artist in March and recognized him from pictures. I don’t think he is my type though so won’t pursue that avenue. And also because, as I said above, I really and truly want a fresh start.
Finally, after all the digital debauchery over the course of the day, last night I met up with two of my best girlfriends — one is visiting from out of town. She is married, a mom, and drives a mini van. I still don’t believe it, even seeing it in writing. The other gal is a fellow Match.com customer and cashed in on the cream of the crop. I’m devasted the guy doesn’t have a clone in the form of a brother or cousin; he’s amazing. They have proven to be a match indeed…and could actually be used in the company success story commercials.
I knew that both off-the-market ladies, who are almost as invested in my search to find lasting love as I am, would want to participate in culling down my growing list of potential manfriends. So I printed out about 15 dudes for them to review. One by one they scanned photos, “About Me” sections, hobbies, and interests. Each got put into two piles: Yes and Hell No.
The orchestrated ordeal was halfway hilarious, halfway hard. The married judge on our panel was picking apart elements such as restricted height (5’6”), the way the guy sat on the chair (legs wide open = cocky), posing on a motorcycle (or as she calls them, crotch rockets), if a female (not even knowing if they’re maybe related) was included in any photos, and on and on. I sat there defending myself, constantly sourcing the book “Mr. Good Enough” written by a lady over 40 who never got married because she was entirely too picky.
This time around, I’m genuinely trying hard to expand my normally strict criteria.
Which leads me to my next subject: Kids. I want kids, but I want them to come out of my uterus. Not only am I not ready nor wanting to be a Step Mother, but I just want *1* thing to be sacred and of my own. I’m open to meeting someone who is divorced (which by the way is 1:1 who contact me), but offspring baggage too…that’s tough. Both my sister & sister-in-law were ripping me a new one over the weekend, telling me I *have* to be more open about guys with children, otherwise I’m vastly limiting my ability to meet men.
God forbid I’m limited in any capacity.
So, I’m supposed to settle. I’m supposed to just totally throw my hands up and say screw it. Just give me anyone. I’m over 30 and maxing out here soon.
Really though — where do you draw the line on settling?
I need a cold shower… this 100+ degree heat is clearly getting to me.
Cougars, uncovered?
One of my favorite web sites to gush over fluff but nevertheless fabulous female fodder is thefrisky.com. During Thursday afternoon’s eat-at-my-desk-while-surfing-the-internet lunch session, a book review came across my screen — Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough. I finished the witty synopsis in record time, wiped up my drool of excitement, and penciled in a Barnes & Noble stop the following day. Not only was the primary argument controversial and subversive, but both the author and article reviewer managed to mention Sex & the City. Done and done.
I’m now on page 98 and don’t know whether to laugh or cry. There are still 200+ pages to go. It is basically a Dr. Phil-style, hardcore, in-your-face, scared-straight, whoop ass for aging women on the fast track to staying indefinitely single due to their own self-defeating choices that is based upon an assumption: no partner will ever be good enough. Now thankfully I’m in a relationship that is forecasted for a stable future, but if it doesn’t pan out, I’ll be back in the husband-finding field…fighting against boisterous 20-something competition. During my dating escapades over the last year, I saw for myself what a tiny pool of eligible men there are out there too. The picture is very grim. So let’s just say the premise of this book’s message not only has me acutely aware of the ticking clock that surrounds my uterus, but now my Mrs. eligibility age is at risk.
An honorary female friend of mine who is smart, gorgeous and has the whole package, and is also single, was a perfect candidate to co-read the published literature with me. A 1:1 book club if you will. You see, we’re two of the last few standing early 30’s women who haven’t been scooped up by a mister, yet. We both have our own stories (excuses) and reasons (failed relationships) and so the subject is a hot topic on a regular (daily) basis. Like a faithful companion, she secured her copy and we’re well on our way to dual labor of love enlightenment.
Mr. Big questioned my interest on the delicious topic(s) last night after I walked in with the ‘M word’ titled bright red book in-hand. “Are you sure it is…umm…healthy to spend this much time focused, even obsessed, with this?” I carefully and thoughtfully tried to explain that my curiosity on male/female dynamics has been and probably always will keep bookstores in business. Then informed him that besides obtaining a minor in Writing during college, I also earned one in Sociology. And concluded with the agree to disagree, “You should probably just accept it.”
While I simultaneously accept his enjoyment of video games to the likes of Madden, FIFA and some kind of human/alien war taking place in space, my hours snowed-in have been filled with fascinating stories and lessons on Settling. That word has such a horrible connotation, as it should, in theory. But what the author, Lori, dissects is how she went through her 20s, 30s and early 40s never thinking any guy was good enough. Which ultimately has left her alone, sad, and sans companionship. In short, her point is that our generation of females have set our Prince Charming standards so incredibly high (unattainable) that we’re missing a perfectly happy life with Mr. Good Enough.
That’s not to say we should “settle” for someone who doesn’t bring us happiness, but focusing more on subjective points (maturity, kindness, ability to commit) vs. objective points (age, height, how much hair he has, whether he has kids or an ex-wife).
Which leads me to my next point. While talking with a fellow early 30’s unattached fella, who will remain nameless, I questioned his stance on singlehood. Now mind you, this is right after hearing him retell his evening *hitting it* with a female. This seemingly cold, animal-like circumstance captured in conversation didn’t phase me, as I’m well aware how guys talk to each other regarding sex and hookups. But I had to ask, “So…are you single and sleeping around because you don’t want to be tied down, or is it because you just haven’t found the right girl?” His answer was firmly the latter. “I’d definitely be settled down [there is that S word again] if I found the right one…but girls these days are crazy.” I had to clarify, “What do you mean ‘these days’ — are they different now than before?” The busy bachelor explained, “Yes ladies have become more high maintenance today and you can’t make them happy.”
After chuckling a bit, I shared that the book’s subject I’ve had my nose in all afternoon preached a similar message. His next matter-of-fact statement hit me like a hangover, “Which is why we now have Cougars.”
Wow. Could it be true? Have women who simply never married because they wouldn’t curb over-exaggerated expectations in any way, shape or form, establish the infamous Cougar Club? This possible realization, and coupled fear of ever getting a membership invite, made my whiskers whimper.
