The Cheese Stands Alone

My dating life has been a real roller coaster since my divorce.  And by roller coaster I mean I've spent an ungodly amount of time standing around waiting for a  three-minute ride that generally had me feeling nauseous and remorseful at the end.  Granted, I've been busy with work and school and the short people; but I've made a concerted effort to get out there and meet people.  And I haven't let myself go.  I've worked my ass off (literally) to stay in shape, invested in quality hair and skin care and I dress just slutty enough to say "Come and get it!" without crossing that line from Scarlett Johanssen to Tara Reid.  Sadly, outside of a brief but amazing relationship last year, my efforts have been for naught.

We all watch shows like "Sex And The City" and see Horseface and her merry band of misfit whores sleep their way through Manhattan with all the dignity of a Joe Francis casting call and think that THIS is what it's like to be wild and free in your 40's.  Well, fuck that noise.  Being single at 42 sucks harder than a Kardashian at an NBA Playoff game; and your average single 40-something isn't spending her days in her spacious loft apartment sipping cosmos with Miranda and Charlotte, she's sitting in some two-bedroom shithole making a diorama of the Lewis & Clark expedition and eating cold Dino Nuggets off of her son's Avengers plate.*

*You know. . .metaphorically speaking.

Dating is a scary proposition under the best of circumstances, and in this day and age you have to be careful of the myriad diseases just waiting to ravage your nether regions.  But to be honest, my nether regions could use a good ravaging of ANY kind and at this rate I have a better chance of developing carpal tunnel syndrome than the clap.

I know lots of people who have touted such sites as Match.com and "eHarming-Me" as GREAT places to meet men, but the more I delve into their experiences, the more the conversation takes on a similar bent:


FRIEND:  I know SO many people who have met AWESOME guys on that site!

ME:  Like whom?

FRIEND:  Like Ellen!  She met that totally adorable guy who took her sailing!  

ME:  Isn't he the one who tried to go all "Dead Calm" on her out on the lake, then stole her shoes?

FRIEND:  Umm, maybe.  But what about Kate!  She met Jason on Match and they've been married for two years!

ME:  Kate and Jason got divorced when she caught him trying to have sex with her cat.

FRIEND:  Oh. . .yeah.  But Julie has met TONS of guys!

ME:  Any of 'em stick around longer than it took to throw out the condom?

FRIEND:  Ummm. . .


I rest my case.


Maybe my problem is that I need a website that's less Craigslist "Casual Encounters" and more self-aware and life affirming, like "I'm-OK-You're-OKCupid".*


*Although I will admit that Kelly and Gina and I have spent a fair amount of time on Craigslist laughing ourselves into a collective asthma attack at the amount of men posting pictures of their junk next to beer cans.  Think I'm kidding?  Go check.  No, really.  I'll wait. . .


. . .my apologies for that.  I know.  What has been seen cannot be unseen.  ((shudder))

But using mass media to trawl for men just reminds me a little too much of how the San Francisco Police Department trawled for the Zodiac Killer and then I feel all skeeved out and start imagining myriad scenarios where I'll be asked to put the lotion in the basket. And of course there's also that underlying fear that I'll be "catfished" by some pimple-faced 12 year old with a hard-on and a fake profile picture who'll eventually fake his own death and leave me holding the proverbial Heisman.*

*Anyone else find it oddly coincidental that the whole Manti Te'o debacle occurred just in time to take the heat off of Lance Armstrong?  I'm on to you, Juice Springsteen.

But you know what?  I tried a couple of these sites any way.  And all I can say is:  you don't know the definition of "blow to the ego" until you've been told that Mr. Neil Clark Warren himself has determined your PERFECT matches, only to be presented with a list of men who could pass as extras in "The Hills Have Eyes".   So. . .no.  Just.  No.

Most of my well-meaning friends have tried to buck me up with familiar platitudes such as "The right guy will come along", "You always find 'The One' when you aren't looking", and my personal favorite: "Karma owes your ass BIG TIME!"*

* I love you, Misty.  :)

But let's be honest.  My friend Gina met her husband of six years, Alex, two and a half weeks after breaking up with a longtime boyfriend.  My neighbor, Angela, moved in with her boyfriend Steven, and then moved out with her fiancee Joe six months later.  My friend, Kelly, met the amazing guy she's now dating less than a week after her divorce was finalized, and my ex was remarried while WE were STILL married.*

*Slight confusion over the date of finalization.  So for nine glorious days I was technically a Sister Wife, just without the hair-braiding and communal child-rearing.

And me?  Still alone.  Yes, I did find true love.  It may have only lasted for a few months but those months were some of the happiest in my life and now that he's gone it just makes being single that much harder.  It's like going on a diet when you've never tasted Taco Bell.    It's so much easier to subsist on Lean Cuisine when you've never known the splendor of wrapping a bean burrito around a Steak Grilled XXL.*

*Trust me on this one.  It.  Is.  Majestic.

I keep hearing that if I "found one great guy like Dylan, there's bound to be another one out there". . .but I really don't think so.  It took me 42 years to find a man who looked at me and my children and didn't run away so fast he left a freaking contrail so I'm under no false illusions that lightning will strike twice.  A woman in her forties has a hard enough time finding a man who finds her age attractive in a non "Stacy's Mom" kind of way, and when you add to the mix a child with autism, you are looking for a pretty unique snowflake of an individual, my friends.  It's not that I don't think there are lots of good, decent men out there; it's just that the majority of them are already in long-term committed relationships because they're. . .well, because they're good, decent men.

Most people (myself included) would think that I'd be all man-bashy and Gloria Steinem-y about the entire situation, but I'm not.  I love men.  Men are funny and blunt and no-nonsense and they make weird noises when they sleep and generally smell like sawdust and shoe polish and I freaking love that.  What I don't love is that none of them have any desire to love me.  

So, I guess where I'm really going with this. . .*

*Thus implying that I have a point.  Which I really don't, but bear with me, 'kay?

. . .is that I'm done.  I was lucky to have known true love for a brief time and, you know what?  That's more than a lot of people can say, so I ought to be grateful for that alone, right?   I'm not lonely; I don't need someone to "complete" me. . . I just have this life that is so amazing in every other respect: family, work, friends, that I  really want someone to share it with.  Someone to hangout downtown and mock hipsters with, someone who will go to the Farmer's Market and speak with me in a made-up foreign language just to goof on people, someone who will tolerate my ice-cold feet at night as long as I ignore that annoying clicky noise his jaw makes when he chews.   Someone.   But, as everyone around me seems to have found their other half and I am the perpetual "cheese that stands alone" it's time to man up and realize that I'm just not meant to have someone in my life.*

*Listen up, Taylor Swift, you might learn something here.

Maybe I was meant to be alone so I could do great things with my career.  Maybe it's because I was meant to show my sons that a woman can stand alone independently.  Whatever the reason, the universe is obviously telling me something, so I should stop fighting it, shut up, and listen.

While I've been pretty low for the last few days after coming to this state of acceptance (aka. crying like a little bitch and annoying the ever-loving shit out of my friends), I'm also oddly relieved.  I can stop trying.  I can stop hoping.  I can stop working so damned hard to look attractive, laugh at people's jokes, and act charming and witty in public.*

*Yes, I can be charming. . .shut up.

While I'll still go out with my family and my friends, I can do so without worrying how I look or who else might be out there.  And there's something comforting in that.  Because, truthfully, I'm kind of tired of waiting for something that obviously isn't going to happen.  I'm tired of trying.  I'm tired of hoping.   I'm tired of "keeping my chin up".  I'm tired of being interested in men who have no interest in me.   I'm just. . .tired.   But no matter what, I know I'm far better off on my own than with someone who doesn't deserve me or treat me well.  As my mom would say, "It's gotta be a hell of a man to be better than no man."

So, to those of you who have someone in your life who belittles you, or lies to you. . .if he cheats on you, or beats you down with his hands or his words: get out NOW.  You are too good for that shit, and trust me: you CAN make it on your own.  But if you have a man in your life who loves and respects you, and treats you with decency and kindness, go give him a hug.  Even if he just tracked dog crap in the house, or put your son's pajamas on backwards, or emptied the gas tank without refilling it, or blew up the microwave heating up a Hot Pocket. . .just go give him a hug.  You have no idea how lucky you are.

xoxo,

Jen