For years I raised my children as a single mom without any
major life issues. It wasn’t easy, but I counted my blessings and had a
wonderful family who loved and supported us. I went back to school, got an
excellent job, and lived life perfectly fine without a significant other. It
wasn’t until my kids reached their early teens, that I started getting asked
the infamous question. “When are you going to start dating again?” I remember
the first time someone popped the question. I was at work, enjoying a nice
lunch on the grass outside the office. A beautiful summer day, the wind blowing
gently, birds chirping in the background. Well, it may have cars honking and
brakes squealing, but it was all the same to me. I was perfectly and innocently
enjoying my bliss. When out of the blue, a co-worker, who had recently got
engaged asked me the dreaded question. I panicked. Desperately I thought of
what to say, as I had never really given it much thought. I was perfectly
content living my single life. But, I didn’t want to sound like a prude. We
have all heard the stories about the old woman who lived down the road with her
150 cats. You know, the one who died and nobody found her body for seven days?
I absolutely did not want to be viewed as a cat-lady-in-waiting. My eyes dropped down to my phone as I
pretended to scan for messages, I cleared my throat, and responded. “I am
letting my batteries charge first. “ I proclaimed. Eyebrows squinted, heads
tilted, so I continued. “You see, the kids are a constant drain on my energy supply.
Don’t worry, my phone’s still plugged in (throwing in a wink). It just takes double
time for my battery to charge.” With nods from around the group, somebody
started an unrelated conversation. I was safe. From that day on, anytime
someone asked me about dating, I would repeat the same message. It worked for
three years before my youngest daughter (now a teen) finally asked me if my battery
was fully charged yet.” Being the outstanding mother I am, I didn’t want to set
a bad example. After all, intimacy is a good thing. Right? Right?
It’s funny how something like dating doesn’t seem to bother
you, until it starts to bother you. I know that sounds odd. But, as soon as I
started giving it some thought, the whole idea consumed me. The reality of it
seemed so foreign. The last time I had been on a date, I was 22 and damn good
looking. I wore size 7 jeans, carried a nice D size cup that stayed up on its
own (for the most part), and had beautiful naturally blond hair that shimmered
in the sun. Or at least that’s how I remembered it. Now, there I stood staring
at myself in the mirror. Somewhere along the way, someone had replaced my
twenty-two year old athletically equipped body with that of a 42 year old sumo
wrestler. I had literally doubled in size, from a 7 to a 14. My breasts, still
large, hung dangerously close to my belly button, and my natural blond hair
was hiding behind a wiry white outer layer. I had never really considered my
appearance before then. And, as I stood there desperately thinking of a quick
fix. Extreme makeover, plastic surgery, auto wrecking? I realized the
inevitable. If I wanted to change my appearance, I was going to have to work
for it.
I started thinking that other people must be in the very
same situation. After all, forty percent of women in America who marry today
are destined for divorce. Surely, not all of them still packed abs of steel.
So, I began paying more attention to my surroundings. There were not as many
fat women as I would have liked, but heck, there also weren’t all that many
good looking men either. That was when I made up my mind to buy some shoes, new
lipstick, and put my profile on a dating site.
Recharged and Ready
There are a lot of differences between dating as a younger
person and dating as an older person. First, the selection to choose from is
outrageous. When I first started looking for potential prospects, I was
impressed by the amount of nice looking men online. That is, until I began
filtering out the ones willing to date a women over forty! The age range
increased by about twenty years. Where does it say in the rule book that it is
okay for 45 year old men to only pick from women between eighteen and
twenty-five years old? I was left with a handful of balding, beer-bellied, red
nosed engineers who enjoyed holding hands and walking slowly and carefully on
the beach. But, being an optimist, I carried on and began my search for that
first date.
Comeback Queen Crushed
After a few days of deleting the obvious stalkers, perverts,
and alley cats, I found a potential match. We started communicating via email.
He was a very nice engineer who lived about thirty minutes from me. Why are
they all engineers? After a few conversations, we decided to meet up for dinner
at a place halfway. As soon as I said yes, panic mode kicked in. Did I forget
to tell him I was a sumo? My teeth are coffee stained. Should I dye my hair?
What if I hate him (irrational thought since I didn’t hardly know him). What
was I thinking, agreeing to meet someone I didn’t really know. What kind of
example is that? Here I am trying to model health social interaction with the
opposite sex and what I am really saying is, “Yes, I will agree to meet you
alone, stranger. Here’s my number, you might be killer, call me some time.”
That just makes me appear desperate. Wait, am I desperate? Let’s just say my
ADD kicked into overdrive and I spent the rest of the week freaking out over an
awful dinner that took only 45 minutes, some very boring conversation, and some
really bad breath! I left the restaurant vowing never to agree to another online
date. Until I got home, and had a message from Mr. HunkaHunka-Burning Love. How
could I pass that up?
Please let me know if you would like to hear more about my
Recharged4Love adventures. I would love to hear your feedback and stories, if
you aren’t in the 60% happy ever after cliche. Oh hell, just kidding. I would
love feedback from anyone who suffered through my rant. I definitely have more
to share. Hope you enjoyed.
