Rebellious Thoughts of a Woman

Tonight’s date was with Andrew. Now why would a 54-year-old man who is losing his job and his apartment in two weeks and who is contemplating moving out-of-state in two weeks be looking for love on Craig’s List? And does he really expect some damsel to save him from his distress? He is a nice guy, but what am I supposed to say to a man who asks me if I think he should shave his head? And when I asked him why he wanted to shave it, his response was that his hair was so gray. Again, what am I supposed to say? I, of course, said the wrong thing. I said, then you will need to shave your beard, too. Immediately his hand went up to his goatee and stated hesitantly, it’s not so gray. No, of course it’s not, and it’s not. But I really didn’t feel the desire to be exposed to his turmoil. I mean couldn’t he at least try to reel me in before firing down on me his absolute sense of dejection? Luckily my car was close by and it was about to rain. I walked to the car in a very weary state. But, at least I had a good dinner (I paid for my meal, not wanting to feel that I had added to his burden in any way).

A few weeks ago I had a date with Mark. I am pleased to state that upon learning that his home situation is even worse than mine, I knew to run run run! But not after we had a great conversation comparing war stories. I wish him all the best with someone who will offer him the compassion he deserves. Unfortunately, I need a break from giving and would like to be on the receiving side of care and compassion for a change.  

Now, last night’s date was with Terrence, who is single. Single as in never married; some men say that they’re single which is a euphemism for divorced or separated; apparently some men think if they ignore or deny their past they can invite a better future into their lives. Whatever.

It’s not that Terrence’s being a caddie in any way had a negative impact on me. He had dropped out of the rat race, either temporarily or permanently, and was thoroughly enjoying his stress free life. What got to me was that he said that on his last day off he went fishing with a buddy. I don’t know, for me he just seemed to be disconnected from people, from the world, from the things that—to me—make a life worthwhile. Maybe he’s looking to meet the woman with whom he can connect, but it seems that a woman would not change him, just get in sync with him. I don’t want stress in my life, either, but I do want to feel that I am having an impact, that my life is not merely a place-holder.

And then there is Frank, with whom I had two dates. Frank is another forty-something, never-married man. We had a nice first date, although I did have the feeling that the exchange of stories was as deep as our conversation would get, I still decided to give him a second chance. On date number two my intuition was proven to be as sturdy as ever. When I commented on having eaten wonderful Egyptian hummus with beans in an Arab restaurant in Jerusalem when I was living in Israel, I received a nod. Not a question about life in Israel. I mean everyone—everyone—asks if I was afraid living there. And I always—always—comment on how I felt safer there than in New York. But nary a word or comment from Frank. A few minutes later I commented on having met an acquaintance in a coffee shop that morning, who, it turns out, has a husband who is the apparent twin of my ex-husband. Again, the nod. Not a question. Not an inquiry. Okay, maybe he doesn’t want to pry, which is fine for him, but not for me. I have no desire to be with someone who exhibits no curiosity, for whom life seems to be about which restaurant to eat in and what to order.

So here I am. Home alone. After all of these dates I realize how hard it really is to find some one who is on the same path and current as I am. I don’t despair of finding him, I just hope that I won’t be so bored by the whole dating process that I end up boring him away.

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Note: All names have been changed to protect the truly innocent (men who did not know that they were going on a date with a woman who blogs about her life).

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