Pick A Card, Any Card
I had a date with four men last night. No, this wasn’t part of my current dating bonanza, this was actually closer to a business dinner, but it ended up being me, and four men, with three out of the four blatantly pursuing me. (The fourth was married and if he was pursuing me, I didn’t notice because he was married – enough said.) While flattering that all these men were paying me attention, it simply boiled down to the odds, and how the cards were dealt. I was the only female. Total ego boost, right? Wrong. For some reason, it made me a little sad. What am I doing?
All around me, my friend’s marriages are falling apart. Three, count ‘em, three, are getting divorced. They are now in my boat: almost 40 and single. But now they have kids along for the ride. Not an easy ride. So what am I doing? Which leads me to my real question: Can’t I just keep them all?
Out of my current dating bonanza, I like three of them. I know this can’t last forever, I know eventually I have to pick, but I definitely like my top three. There’s the Silver Fox, who is the oldest but has a smile that knocks my socks off and calves that could chip a tooth. There’s the Million Dollar Man, who has dreamy blue eyes and a dog that I just want to sneak into my car and take home. And there’s Salt and Pepper, whose dimples make me melt, and from what I can tell, a small child living in his pants. Plus, the Young Stud and a possible do-over from the distant past are still out there somewhere, and I’m still hoping they’ll call too.
Dates three through five are rapidly approaching with my top three, which no doubt means some sort of clothing removal is going to be expected. So I guess I have to pick sooner than later, because contrary to popular belief, it isn’t my goal in life to be a whore. But seriously, why should I have to pick? Why does society say I have to pick?
I know what you’re thinking. That if I don’t pick, I’m that whore I was just speaking of. Except wait – don’t men do this all the time? Why is it so important for a woman my age to not only be mated, but mated with one man and one man only? Because society says so. Because my grandmother said so. Because my brain says so, and has been saying so twice a week in this blog for six months now.
I looked around the table at the men last night. There was the sixty-year old with the puppy dog eyes who knew he didn’t have a shot with me. There was the steroid superstar, who thought he might have a shot with me because he’s on TV, but deep down probably knew he didn’t have a shot. There was the six-foot-five black guy who thought he might have a shot because I’m a nice white girl whose fantasy might be to have a big black guy once, but deep down he knew he didn’t have a shot, no matter how many times he said, “You like the dark chocolate, don’t you?” Probably the only one who did have a shot was the married guy, because he didn’t try. Go figure.
My top three DO have a shot. All of them do, in fact. So which one do I pick? And, do I have to?
Just Say No
Just say no.
Those 3 words were the foundation of an advertising campaign that First Lady Nancy Reagan created in the 1980’s to discourage children from engaging in recreational drug use. The ads featured different ways to teach young people to say no to things that they felt pressured to do, be it drugs, sex, violence, etc. We don’t see much of it anymore; it’s been a long time since the Reagan administration, but I think this is a phrase that I desperately need to adopt – for dating.
I just can’t seem to say the word no. Not when it comes to sex – I can definitely say no to that (but I usually don’t because that I actually want) – I can’t ever seem to say no to a date. I know half of these guys aren’t right for me, I know nothing will ever come of these dates, yet when planning my dating strategy of the New Year, I forgot to put the words “just say no” in my syllabus.
This isn’t a new problem; I’ve been saying yes to dates with the wrong guys for years. (Does Extra Large Jerk ring a bell?) It’s kind of like the theory of finishing your plate. We never ran out of food at my house growing up, but we were taught to eat our dinner, and that meant finishing everything on our plate. So it seems with dating, I’ve held to the same strategy. I have to clean my plate; meaning if a guy asks me out, I go. God forbid the world runs out of men, so I’d better date them all before it does. And believe me, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. I’m totally exhausted. And I’m gaining weight, because they all are taking me to dinner, and of course, I finish my plate. So what do I have to look forward to after this dating extravaganza? A bunch of dates I should have said “no” to, and a fat ass after working so hard to fit into my skinny jeans.
Oh and something else I have failed to mention: 50 first dates doesn’t exactly buy a girl a whole lot of sex. So, while I am making my way down the buffet of men (and dinners) I am having absolutely NO sex. I’m just not a sex-on-the-first date girl. Well, at least most of the time I’m not, and I’m especially not in the first months of my “If you build it, he will come” experience. (I know, I just said come, but I didn’t mean that.)
So how do I say no to the guy who is seemingly nice, has his shit together, and on top of everything, actually likes me? How do I say no to the guy who I actually like intellectually, but can’t in a million years imagine kissing his fish lips, let alone any other part of his body? How do I say no to the guy who is the total package, whom I am actually totally hot for, but he’s 100% sure he doesn’t want kids and I’m only 65% sure?
Nancy Reagan would say, “Just say no.”
See If It Sticks
As the first month of the New Year comes to a close, I am taking a moment to reflect on my new “If you build it” approach to dating.
I have to admit, so far, so good.
It’s been an interesting experiment. Actually it’s not really fair to call it an experiment, because currently it’s my new way of life. Well, my new way of dating life. You know the phrase, “It’s like spaghetti – throw it against the wall and see what sticks” (or it goes something like that)… Well, that’s what I’m doing. Instead of being SO picky, I’m just seeing what sticks. I may not like his hair, or his taste in clothes, or that dumb necklace he’s wearing, but instead of tossing him aside for superficial reasons, I’m seeing if he sticks.
I may not have heard from the cute salt and pepper guy with the dimples who asked “What’s wrong with me” for being 38 and never married, but you know what? I had a fun date anyway. It wasn’t a total waste of two hours, he was cute and he made me laugh and I don’t have to be bitter and chalk it up to a waste – I can chalk it up to “if you build it…”
Yep, new year, new outlook.
I may not have heard from the super young guy yet, but you know what? I had a great date. He was cute and smart and hilarious, and I got to make out like I was in junior high – okay, maybe high school. I don’t have to chalk it up at all – I’m still smiling at just the thought of it. I have a funny feeling he’ll call again at some point. I’m a pretty good kisser myself.
Not to mention the dry humping…
And the coffee date I had yesterday? Not so bad either. He was possibly a little too ADD and sent his cappuccino back, but those are no longer deal breakers. For now, they are being tucked away, and not enough to “un-stick” him. He was sexy, and smart, and in his defense, he did order a cappuccino, not the latte he was given.
I have date number two with a “nice guy” tonight. In the old days, I would have totally blown him off already. I’m not positive that there is romantic chemistry, he’s quite possibly a little too boring for me, but you know what? He’s a NICE guy. And he likes me. So, instead of throwing him away for the small doubts, why not choose the small hopes instead and throw him against the wall to see if he sticks?
And if he doesn’t, there’s a whole other bag of spaghetti out there.
I’m kind of still curious about the whole father/son combo…
Young, NOT Dumb, And Full Of…
Okay, I finally get it. I finally get what all the fuss is about. I finally get why people do it. I finally get why, when those people are teased about it, they just smile and nod, with a knowing look in their eyes.
I went out with a younger guy last night. This, after years of dating older, usually much older men, because that’s what I thought I was supposed to do. But recently presented with the opportunity, I finally went younger. And guess what? This handsome young man – with perfectly smooth skin and not one strand of gray on his fantastically thick head of hair - this guy was more of a man than any of the older jackasses I’ve been dating all this time. And guess what else? I LIKED it.
Aside from being crazy adorable, he was a gentleman. Aside from having a smile that could melt an ice sculpture, he had manners. He held every door open, he offered me his arm walking across the street, he got my drinks, and most of all – this guy liked me. He was attracted to me and made no secret of it. He didn’t play those stupid “I’m 45 and divorced and have something to prove” games. He complimented me. He smiled at me. He listened to me and actually had something to say in response. And without any pretense, he kissed me – in public. In the middle of my sentence, he simply leaned in and kissed me. And holy shit, what a kiss. This was no boy, this was a man. He didn’t care who was watching, he didn’t care about anything but the fact that he had a woman next to him who he wanted to make out with, and so he did – more than a few times.
The funny thing is, I don’t really think I am that much of a PDA person. In the past I probably would have pre-empted that major public kiss. But with this guy, I didn’t care. I liked it. I especially liked how little he cared about everything around him except for the person he was with. I guess this is why men have been dating younger women for years.
He’s not so much younger that I look so much older, but he’s younger in the sense that he isn’t letting life get him down in a way that he shows it. He isn’t walking around with hunched shoulders acting like everyone is out to get him and he had nothing to do with his own misery. He is simply put, young and full of life. He has a lot to look forward to and he knows it – and it shows. I could learn a lot from this guy (aside from the fact that he is a great kisser).
And if he doesn’t ask me out again, I took away from one date more than I have taken away from the last 20… When it comes down to it, dating has nothing to do with the number – it has to do with what the number represents. It has to do with enjoying time with someone who is living their life without regret, without bitterness, and without an agenda. What a refreshing change. Maybe I’m onto something.
Or maybe he is.
A Woman’s Right To Choose
Your dating bonanza sounds a lot like the early stages of a divorce. You’re looking at a full, diverse menu, but you can’t decide what you want to order so you’re inevitably left hungry at the end of the meal. I remember one of my first nights out after my divorce was final. A friend and I went to a restaurant/night club. The place was crawling with women. And I was like a no-pest strip at a southern barbecue; the women were buzzing all around me.
First I ran into a woman I knew from our kid’s little league baseball team. She was pretty hot – a true MILF – but she always wore heels and makeup to the baseball games and that simply didn’t work for me. Her friends were drunk and kept trying to maneuver us into some sort of encounter. Deciding to cut to the chase, I walked up to her at the bar and started making out with her. She responded eagerly. When we were done, I turned to her group of friends, asked “Are you happy now?” and walked off. When she left a short time later she slipped me her number on the way out. I never called her.
After that, a woman I’d never met asked me to dance. She was pretty hot too, but was wearing a wedding ring. After we danced to a few songs, the band played a slow one. She pulled me to her like a magnet and shoved her tongue down my throat. It was tempting, but it was also early. Plus, I didn’t want to take advantage of some horny, unhappily married woman who might stab me while imagining it was her husband. I played it safe and slipped away with my friend. A half hour later, I saw her with her tongue down another guy’s throat.
Toward the end of the night, I ran into another woman I knew from the neighborhood. We danced a few dances and closed the place. She looked good on the dance floor and seemed like she might be fun off of it, so I asked her to dinner. I knew it was going nowhere by the time the appetizer arrived. I haven’t seen her since.
They say that finding love is like finding a needle in a haystack. They’re wrong. It’s not that easy. That’s why you don’t have to choose until you’re ready. That’s why you can indeed try them all on for size (well, maybe not literally for size) if you prefer. That’s why the only voice you should heed when deciding what to do and with how many men to do it is your own. As far as I’m concerned, you have a right to stand on top of that dinner table and collect resumes from these guys if you want. First of all, they’d do the exact same thing if they could. Second of all, and more importantly, you’re not going to choose whether or not to try them all because you can or can’t; you’re going to choose whether or not to try them all because you want, or don’t want to.
It’s all about choice – the choice is yours – and yours alone. I know you’ll make the right one.
As in – one.
Yes You Can
What’s that expression? You have to kiss plenty of frogs before one of them turns into a prince? That expression represents everything wrong with how women are taught to view themselves when it comes to men – even now, in the 21st century. First of all, what’s up with wanting a prince? Because you want to be a princess? Because you want to live in a castle? Because you like the way your man looks in a pair of tights? This message isn’t just wrong, it’s insulting. It’s wrong, because there simply are no princes. We all have a little frog left in us. Furthermore, no real man even wants to be a prince. It’s too much pressure and the sex is lousy. We’d much rather respect a woman than rescue her. It’s insulting to women, because it assumes you to be useless, unless you’re kissing frogs and waiting by the phone for a prince to call. Really? Is that how girls and women want to see themselves? I think not. I hope not.
Which brings us to the word, “no.” Men are great at this. It’s in our DNA. No, I don’t want to talk about it. No, I don’t want to go shopping with you. No, I don’t know what I want, or when I want it. No, no, no fucking way. I knew how to say no before I hit puberty. And since dating completely sucks, it’s easier than anything for a man to say no. We’re the ones who do the asking, remember? All we have to do to say no is… not ask. Of course, it’s different for women. We all know that. You guys have it tough. What’s wrong with wanting to fall in love and have a family with a stable, secure man who loves you? Isn’t that what we all want, male and female? Isn’t that the foundation of who we are? Yet, you have to wait for us to do the asking. At the same time, you’re being torn asunder by Disney dreams, modern roles and everything in between. How tough do we men have it compared to you? We’ve heard the same consistent message for generations: Conquer the world, and find a good woman along the way to help you do it. As if this isn’t enough, women have biological clocks. When it starts ticking, there’s no stopping it without an epidural. Is it any wonder that it’s simply easier, if not better to be a man?
“No” has its limits, and so do you. Maybe you’re not the queen of “no.” Maybe you are giving out more chances than instinct would allow. You’re still a step ahead of both sides of the dating world and you still have a PhD in people. I’ll say what I always say: trust your gut, keep the bar high. If you want to say yes, say yes. If you don’t, then say no. It’s your life. Live it on your terms. However, you may want to come up with a plan that actually includes getting laid once in a while.
Sticky Situation
Not bad for the first month on the job. I’m sorry – did I just call dating a job? I don’t think I’ve had that many dates, much less options in the last year, not to mention the last month. However, I am as close to an expert on you as anyone else, so allow me to commend you on your flexibility, as well as your open-mindedness. Allow me to also provide a man’s-eye-view of the encounters you’ve described.
I’m so glad you gave another shot to the dude who was clueless enough to ask, “What’s wrong with you?” Seeing the upside of an uninspiring date… seeing the blue in a man’s eyes, when he’s so full of shit his eyes are brown. He deserved no second chance, new outlook or not. He deserves nothing more from here.
I’m glad you’re leaving the door open a crack for the younger dude. Let’s face it – a good man or woman in his or her mid-to-late forties will blow away any male or female whose greatest asset is their youth. We both know that. Still, what’s the worst that could happen from here? You won’t reach beyond your grasp with him because you’ll never take it seriously enough to do so. He’ll reach out to you, sooner or later because you shuffled his sensibilities and drove him crazy without taking your clothes off. In that respect, he’s as predictable as any man, age notwithstanding. You’re the kind of woman who knows this and he’s the kind of dude who doesn’t.
I don’t drink coffee. Thus, I’ve never had a date over coffee. Still, the whole idea has always felt contrived to me. Let’s see… I’m available AND I’m interested, but not enough to commit to anything besides the half-hour it takes to drink a cup of coffee. Broad daylight – no alcohol – that’s all you’ll get from me. I get it, but it still feels like item #2 on the list of the ten ways to properly manage your dating life. Still, a girl or guy has to do what a girl or guy has to do.
The “nice guy?” If he heard you describe him that way he’d go buy a Harley and a pack of Marlboro’s. We’ll do just about anything NOT to be labeled the “nice guy.” Does any woman want to rip the clothes off a “nice guy?” Does any woman reach into her sexy underwear drawer for a date with a “nice guy?” Where do “nice guys” always finish? You guessed it – LAST. He doesn’t have a chance with you, no matter how many chances he has with you. Do this “nice guy” a favor. Cancel your next date and don’t look back. So what’s a girl to do when she throws a pot full of spaghetti against the wall and nothing sticks? Easy – make another pot.
If The Skin Fits…
I remember the joke my dad used to always tell and re-tell, over and over, just to piss off my mom – it was a true story. George Burns was this amazingly clever and insightful comedian. He was also old – as in, “in his nineties” old. And he was always doted on and surrounded by a bevy of beautiful and much younger women – as in “in their twenties” old. So he’s on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson one night , and Johnny asks him, “So George, why are you always with women that are so much younger than you are?” And George responds, with a twinkle in his eye, “Because their skin fits.”
There’s a lot to be said about dating younger – and just about all of it is good. Call me shallow, but anybody who contends that smooth skin and body parts pointing north, as opposed to south aren’t 1000% more desirable is clearly blind. Either that – or they have neither smooth skin, nor do they have north-facing body parts. There’s a reason our society worships youth. There’s a reason we still call women, “chicks,” and men, “douche bags.” We ALL wish we were younger. We’d ALL choose energy and a bright smile over napping and veneers. Anybody who says otherwise is completely full of shit.
You know I’ve dated younger women before. I’ve had long-term relationships with younger women. Some would call them, “much” younger women. The first of these “much” younger woman was 17 years my junior. I wasn’t seeking a younger woman at the time. I wasn’t seeking a woman of any age at all. It turned out to be a great relationship – until it ended, that is. Did it end because of the age difference? Probably, but I always said it wasn’t so much the difference in age, as it was the difference in baggage, the baggage that only with age one can accumulate. The second of these “much” younger women turned out to be almost as much younger and an equally enjoyable period in my life. Was it because she was younger? I never thought so then, and I still don’t now. Did we hit an occasional misfire in communication or conflicting taste in people, most likely due to our age difference? Uh, yeah. Did I mind the personality and sex appeal that could only come from a woman that much younger? Uh, no.
Of course, we all know it’s different for a man to date a younger woman than it is for a woman to date a younger man. I hope he’s at least five years younger than you. Otherwise it doesn’t count. I hope you’re better in bed than he is. Otherwise, you’re going to be hooked. I hope you meet his friends one night and feel as if you’re at a frat party, because trust me, he still has those friends. I hope he cooks you dinner before you cook dinner for him. Otherwise, he’ll start treating you like his Mom.
Mostly, I hope he continues to be a gentleman and put a smile on your face. There should never be an age limit on that.
