Maybe Carbon Dating Works...

There’s a lot written about dating between the sexes out there, in books, articles, gazillions of blogs and even more, it seems, online dating websites that are raking in bucks while their clients spend hours seeking for Mr./Ms. Right. Recently I met a woman who runs a website for single women, and she urged me to blog about my dating experience.

I can just see everyone out there falling asleep reading my dating stories. Besides, I have two grown sons who read my blogs and God forbid I shock them! (They’re probably ROTFL at that sentiment.)

But, seriously, folks. Dating is big business. If you live in a place such as Silicon Valley, you either meet someone where you work or where you go to church. But when you work 60+ hours a week, as many in S.V. do, when do you have time for a cuppa, a chat, or attending church? People don’t go to bars as much as they used to for the purpose of meeting people, unless they can walk or take public transportation. It’s not fun to be arrested for a DUI or DWI! Not that I know firsthand, mind you. There was a time, back in my post-divorce days when the laws were not so strict that ‘there but for the grace of God go I’ was my mantra. I don’t want to say too much about all that—I’m not sure about the statute of limitations in New York State, and if I confess, they’ve got me cold.

So how on earth do people meet? There are some great people at church. At the church I go to, there are a number of handsome, educated, articulate, thoughtful men. They have only one thing wrong with them. They each have a round band on the third finger of their left hand, and she usually shows up with them. I’ve had two experiences with meeting someone in church. The first one was really great—but wasn't a long-term deal. Long story. The second was fairly recently, late last fall. I try to welcome new people who come to St. Mark’s—we need all the bodies we can get—and this geezer (that’s not really fair; turns out he’s a year younger than I am!)—standing by the door looked kind of lost, so I spoke with him. He proceeded to tell me his tale of woe, and being the hugger that I am, I gave him a huge one. More than one, actually. Without having to publicly own up to every mistake I made that day, suffice it to say that he got what he thought was a clear message that I was really interested in him. Not so, and it took a few more occasions to make my message quite clear. I'm not interested. In his brief time at St. Mark’s, he hit on every one of us single women, as long as we were older than jail bait. He has moved on to a megachurch where there are far more available ladies from which to choose. So, for me, church is out. Besides, if it doesn’t work out, then someone usually has to leave the church, particularly if the congregation is as small as ours is.

Several years I took classes of some sort, mostly for work. They were evening classes, and I wasn’t going to them for the purpose of meeting men, but hey, if you can kill two birds with one stone, why not? Sadly, the ones that were interesting either had that ubiquitous wedding band or…well, what difference does it make, because there was no time whatsoever for chitchat and everyone had been working all day and wanted only to go home, have some dinner and a nightcap before bed.

I’m not much of a joiner anyway. I work all day, too, and I run out of gas about 4:00 p.m. I don’t like to go out mid-week more than once, at the most twice, even for things I enjoy doing!

In my group of six women, three of us are single (one fairly recently; the other two of us for decades) and three are married. The three married ones have on occasion admitted to envying us single folk, while two of us single folk (the decades ones) envy those who have a good man at home who will scratch a back or take them out to dinner.

So, the other decades-single woman and I have done the online thing from time to time. She has gone on lots of first dates, and on one occasion announced (before even meeting the guy) that she has met “the one”. We didn’t burst her bubble; that happened all on its own, and was truly popped when she met him and found that while she’s looking for someone to have adventures with—museums, concerts, travel—he, slightly disabled, was looking for a companion cum care-giver.

Yeah, when you get to the age of Methuselah, not only are the pickings slim, they generally want a companion cum care-giver. The other side of that coin are the guys just slightly younger than the aforementioned Biblical character, and regularly ski, sail, play a mean game of tennis, enjoy riding their Harley, as well as their bicycle, and love to hunt and go deep-sea fishing. Of course, they also love fine dining, beach walks at sunset in the moonlight, all that stuff we begin to gag at. And they’re “spiritual but not religious”, honest, fit, financially independent. In other words, way too good to be true. And are probably looking for a trophy on their arm, not an old broad like myself.

I’ve given up. I “winked” at a few online possibilities, and even sent a couple of emails. A few were kind enough to write back and say “I’m sorry; I don’t think we’re a match.” The utter nerve! To suggest from a photograph and a little “profile” that we’re not a match! How dare they! However, when I do the same thing….well, it’s different.

So, my juicy dating stories will have to come from an earlier chapter in my life, the first 10 years or so after my marriage ended. That’s another blog or three.

I will say on this subject, however, that I know online dating works. My son Brian met his wife online, and they are a real success story. My niece met her husband, after many, many tries, by expanding the geographical parameters, and is now living in Idaho with him—they seem to be meant for each other. So it works. But not for me. Hey, that would be a good song title!

More to come…