Yes, I said I would come back to talk about dates. It took me a bit because I have been out on a few. I had a couple of first dates, a couple of second dates. I even had a short courtship that I thought was promising but turned out to be smoke and mirrors. What the hell is wrong with men of a certain age, I have to ask this question. What in the hell is wrong with any of us for that matter.
Women, many of us anyway still dream of finding that partner who will walk with us through the remainder of our days. Men, they apparently still only want the superficial, the short-term, or the not so much.
So let me tell you about these men, of a certain age. These sort of dates, this sort of courtship. Shams and silliness. I am discouraged and disappointed in the quality, the ethics, the standards, and values of the men I have met so far. Perhaps they would say the same of me, who knows.
The difference, in my humble opinion; I am transparent in my wants, desires, expectations, and most specifically who and what I am. The same cannot be said of any of the men I have thus far met, dated, or been ‘courted’ by. I am disappointed that there are not more men who have reached this age capable of adult behavior, conversation, and sustained actions that match the lip service they pay to get what they want.
In a word, I am disappointed there are not more grown assed men in this great big world. Ten years ago,
just before my divorce was final, I wrote about what I wanted from the next man in my life, what he was, who he needed to be. I went back to read those two posts, oddly my mystery man hasn’t changed over this past decade. Unfortunately, he remains in the shadow of my mind, quite possibly only a dream.
All I can say to these others, these posers who claim to be grown; your mama’s did not raise you right and your daddy’s surely gave you no direction in what to do when you find yourself in the company of a grown assed woman.
Date One: First, we had to get through his food issues. Then we had to get through planning, yeah, ultimately, I had to find a restaurant that served food he could / would eat (Strike One). Then, he was late by more than 20 minutes despite it being local (Strike Two). Now, it was a casual place, but showing up in raggedy jeans, a Cowboy’s jersey, and not one, not two but three great big metal chains with crosses hanging on your neck, along with a cap on your head that you don’t remove when you sit down; you really haven’t got it together (Strike Four). Finally, when the food is brought out my date tells me he needs to pray before eating, okay; but do you need to pray aloud for three minutes so diners all around us can hear you make a spectacle of yourself and while you are at it, me? When the waiter comes over to fill our glasses, Date One looks me dead in the eye and asks, “you don’t mind if we go Dutch, right?” Oh, hell no I don’t mind; in fact, I insist if it will get me out of here any quicker (Strike Five and Six).
Date Two: After several conversations we decided to meet for lunch. I explained I can’t drive at night, so we agreed on a Saturday and a town between us. He lives southeast of Dallas, and I live northwest. This time I was happy to choose as he was newer to the area. This time we agreed up front to a Dutch date as I wanted to go somewhere a bit more expensive, one of my favorite places. According to his profile and our conversations he had relocated for a job with a local school district. So off we go. I waited for 30 minutes (He was late), when he finally arrived instead of asking at the front, he wandered around looking for me until the waiter took pity and figured out he was likely looking for me (Strike One). He blamed traffic, I knew where he was coming from and had checked so knew he lied (Strike Two). During the course of our conversation, he admitted he had lost his job in Chicago and had come to Dallas because his brother offered him a place to live, though he did work for a school district it was as a driver not a job he relocated for (Strike Three). His manners were atrocious, and he was incapable of holding a conversation beyond gossiping about his own family members, especially the brother who was kind enough to put a roof over his head (Strike Four). He told me what a great lover he was and that I should invite him over that day to try him out (Strike Five). I couldn’t wait to finish my meal with a to-go box, pay my side of the bill and run like hell.
Well, my darlings that is enough of shenanigans for now. I will get to the one who called himself courting me in the next post. That is a story worthy of its own post.
I think I might be destined to live my life alone if this is what is out there to choose from. I am disheartened and sad that men of an age are still playing games and acting the fool. I would have thought by now they would have put this behind them, but I guess not. Maybe that Grown Assed Man isn’t out there at all, maybe he is only in my head.
I have not made New Year resolutions in decades. They are a form of self-flagellation in which I find little purpose and much to be afraid. What possesses any of us to sit down at the end of each year and make a list of all our ‘failures’ and then make a list of all we will do ‘better’? Really, are we demented? Or maybe we are simply defeatists at heart.
You see? Self-flagellation.
though, that I what I seek is something different than grace. It is more, that I don’t hate myself for all my mistakes, for the things I could have done differently, for the secrets I could have told and choose not to. I know that too frequently, I put myself in the way to be hurt as retribution for the wrong I believed I did. In retrospect, I didn’t deserve that, yet I did it anyway at great expense to an already savaged spirit.
who has the best imagination, shall we?
Him: Usually, women your age don’t want sexually intimate relationships. What is your stance on this?
works; it starts in the mind. If you catch a woman’s mind, the heart follows; after that, you can ask for anything. But true sexual intimacy is reciprocal. It is never all about one partner, or about what you like or what you get, while your woman is left wanting.
patience and extra lubrication.
ever wanted a relationship with a ‘good’ man. His messages got increasingly aggressive. Pass, report, and block.
I just re-read this series to see what has changed. Not much except that I am four years older, still single and maybe just a bit more unhappy with the situation than I was. Truthfully, the thought of growing old alone and unpartnered gives me a certain sadness and increasing fear as I look into the future.
like me. I get it; we all have our war chests, filled with all the medals of wars won and lost, swirled with all the bullshit of lies told and hurt survived. I promise you I am not looking for pristine; that would be the most ridiculous ask I could make. I am just looking for that person who can match my energy, fill the empty spaces, and wants to be a true partner in what is left of this journey.
You said I was transparent, invisible to you
It’s you again
We all have those days when we simply want to stay in bed, pull the covers up and hope that the world will pass by quickly. Everyone has those days. Most of us don’t give in; we put our feet on the floor and get on with it, whatever it is. We know better than to give in to the inclination to hide from the world, no matter how much we wish for a day without the noise. We roll out from our cocoon of safety and plaster on an acceptable look of interest, even a smile, at the appropriate times throughout the day. We hide behind our walls of social acceptability and apologize to others for our moments of snappishness while inside, we howl and wail.
doesn’t do a damned thing for me, and your demand is just another powerplay that I no longer give a damn about.
It would be best if you minded your business. All these people with thoughts on how others should ‘look’ really do try my patience. It is no wonder I have retreated further and further into my introversion over the years. Yes, my hair is nearly all gray now. I stopped coloring it almost three years ago during COVID. I am sixty-five years old and have earned that silver for the love of all that is holy. I am not trying to fool anyone into believing I am ten years younger. As for the rest, why? That is an honest question, why should I wake in the morning to don make-up that does not make me feel better about myself, so others are comfortable with my public face? My one concession, I have tattooed eyeliner; it saves me time. As for the rest of my tattoos, why does anyone need to express an opinion? First, I love my art; second, some of my art covers scars that I found far more offensive; finally, all of my art tells the story of my life. I have tattoos to help me heal, but it is, frankly, no one’s business. Why do people believe they can judge and speak their judgment? All I can say is mind your business, walk in my shoes, spend even a week in my life and then talk to me or just shut the fuck right up.
him, I think he cares that we speak to him at all, that we have a relationship and come with our hearts open, even when we are afraid, or angry, or hurt. I speak to God, I also pray. These are separate things and possibly misunderstood by many. When I pray, I do so in private; I pray for those I love, I pray for those who need prayer, who need healing, who need to be lifted up. I pray for patience and grace for myself because I do not have much of these things. I greatly resent those who would tell me how to speak to God or pray; you do it your way, and I will do it mine. Thus far, God has not sent a lightning bolt to smite me for my irreverence.
QBG_Tilted Tiara 