O O Ø O O O O
Hey Ladies!
You scare and confuse me.
Last week was one of those fun times where someone you have respect for brings your mortality front and centre. I have a nagging calf injury, and I finally went to go see a doctor who specializes in sports medicine about it. After discussing my approach to exercise and sports in general, she summed it up by saying “you’re not 20 any more, and you really should stop acting like it on the field.” Ouch. I guess this means I'm experienced now. I refuse to say old.
I’m also single, and have been habitually so the last decade. That said, I’ve been getting out with folks on and off over the past 18 months or so, with very mixed results. Not surprisingly, a lot of the women I meet socially with whom I’d feel comfortable going out on a date are similarly experienced. Hrmm... experienced women sounds bad. I’ll just say they’re at a similar point in their lives as I am right now. This creates some interesting social dynamics.
Most single people by their mid-thirties have had some kind of long-term relationship which can involve marriage, kids, and baggage. It’s inevitable, and expected. I’m definitely in the minority, and it’s next-to-impossible to find anyone in Ottawa who has a similar social background as me. I know people are going to have kids/be divorced/carry around issues from past relationships/feel as awkward as I do; at this point in life, the odds of not having any of the above are pretty slim. I can deal with it, as I’m reasonably sane and somewhat less than dense.
What I can’t handle is how the majority of the folks I’ve met tend to deal with these issues. As you can guess, the answer to “So how do they handle it?” is “Not well.” How do folks expect something to get off the ground if it starts with a little (or a lot) of misdirection, misrepresentation, selective omission, or outright lying? While I don’t claim to be a prince, I do know my limitations, and I like to think I give everyone I meet a fair shake. Unfortunately, once I’ve made up my mind about someone, it usually doesn’t change.
There’s a bunch of things I’ve learned getting back into the fun of dating all over again. The biggest thing is that not a lot has changed since high school. The rest I’ll pass along in the hopes someone may read this and actually think twice. Some of my recommendations for the dating scene at thirtysomething are as follows:
- If you use an Internet dating service and include a picture, try and make sure it’s you. While I don’t have the best vision, I’m usually pretty good at picking up the subtle differences between what your picture purports you look like and what you actually look like. Claiming it’s an older picture when it looks nothing like you, but does look suspiciously like your roommate also makes me question your integrity. Perhaps you were twins separated at birth and you just grew a little differently these last two years. I dunno, but I am suspicious.
- Try not to let the bitterness of your failed long-term relationship dominate a dinner date, especially if the relationship ended three years ago. It’s over. Get over it. If you can’t, seek help. As an aside, please don’t claim that you won’t obsess over it again on a subsequent date, I won’t fall for that twice.
- Dating to me means getting out and meeting folks, and having some fun over the course of an evening. If you are looking for a relationship, then dating is a means to an end, and should not be confused with a relationship just because there is a second date. When I say “I think we’d kill each other,” it means I do not believe I want to attempt a relationship. I don’t really care if you think I’m an idiot who doesn’t know any better, and stalking me/calling me incessantly only reinforces the notion that we’d kill each other or, at least, I’d probably want to kill you. P.S. Turning into a stalker scares me and makes me run away.
- If you have ankle-biters at home, it’s not a bad idea to admit it when asked point-blank if you have kids. I’m asking ’cause I like the little buggers, and the chances of people having them now are pretty good. I won’t stand up, clutch my head, and do my best “Scream” impression then bolt out leaving you sitting in a room with everyone staring at you like some kind of oddity. When you respond in the negative to this question, then a couple dates later mention that you do, indeed, have one or two lying around somewhere, it damages your credibility.
- In the year or so that we shoot the breeze and go out for coffee once or twice, you might want to mention the on-again/off-again boyfriend you have before I get to know you and start to really like you. I’ve done the playing-with-a-sour-milk-relationship gig before, and it’s no fun to compete with someone who will continually waltz in unpredictably and fuck everything up because you can’t make up your mind. If you have a boyfriend, say so. How difficult can it be?
- If you’re not interested, don’t leave me a message inviting me out for drinks, then not pick up the phone when I call back ten minutes later. Don’t bother calling if you really don’t want to talk to me, we both have better things to do with our time.
- Don’t tell me about how great your past boyfriends. I don’t give a shit and don’t appreciate or need the comparitive feedback. If they were so great, why the hell aren’t you with them?
In short, please don’t fuck with my head. You’re really good at explaining how evil men are, but a good chunk of you are equally psychotic, just in mildly different ways. I can deal with the baggage (unless it’s a steamer trunk) and the kids — that’s life at thirty-six. I’ll talk about anything, and will even sympathise, empathise, and give opinions if I can, I just ask that you bring a little honesty to the table. Unfortunately, people’s fear about being alone, perceived inadequacies, and experiences with other people who don’t want to deal with kids/baggage/issues taints the deal, and everyone tries to put on a face that’s not quite right.
Why? In the end, is it worth it? My little brain says “no,” but I appear to be in the minority. It is just like high school. Surprisingly, I’m not bitter, just confused by the silliness of it all. Ah well, there’s always the Internet.
Admittedly imperfectly yours,
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
PD DCLXV
P.S. In case you were wondering wtf a “sour milk relationship” is, I’ll make an attempt at defining it. A sour milk relationship is one which is continually on and off with a repeated cycle of going out and breaking up. It’s like that container of sour milk: you know it’s bad, but you throw it back in the fridge in the hope it’ll magically turn good or someone else will deal with it. You keep going back to it, and no one’s dealt with it and it’s still sour, but you put it back in the fridge anyways because it’s easier to deal with later.
P.P.S. Flame on.