My first year of online dating ends next week. What do I have to show for it? you might ask.
For starters, not the long-term relationship I seek. The longest relationship I managed so far lasted three months. It crashed and burned when, over the course of 72 hours, my DoD contractor friend moved from talk of his assets and what his kids should inherit to complaints that we “never laugh until we can’t stop.” This from an angst-ridden engineer with a long history of failed relationships and a face no less dour for the $20,000-worth of plastic surgery he had done. But, hey, I’m not bitter.
Another lasted two months; this time I pulled the plug. My financial analyst friend was the strong, silent type all right, but a non-reader as well. I did the heavy lifting conversationally and it wore me out. “The loneliness of monologues,” I’ve heard it described, and I now know how it feels.
Overall, however, I think I have fared quite well. Of the dozen or so men I dated more than once, all came across as considerate good guys. Which made it all the more poignant whenever I closed the door on them. Mostly for reasons of attitude, I think. They seemed settled in their routines, not open to change or risk, their taste for adventure much blander than mine. Silicon Valley/Santa Cruz guys for whom an evening in San Francisco was a big deal and best avoided altogether.
A few men quickly checked me off soon after meeting, too. My book scared at least one of them willing to admit it. “I don’t want and am not capable of that level of commitment,” he said. Two others, not as keen on me as I was on them, just disappeared. Both happened to be lawyers, for whatever that’s worth. Sample humor from one of them:
“As a registered Republican, New York Jew, living in San Francisco, I’m probably eligible for a federal protection program,” he said. Ergo the disappearance?
It’s easy to keep hope alive, however. Prospects continue to pop up almost daily. Recent dinners with articulate, thoughtful men have gone well. Hikes and sails, even with a sworn bachelor obsessing about his sex life, have really been fun. Bottom line: I’ll renew my subscription and stay the course.
Remember the Sweet Things: One List, Two Lives, and Twenty Years of Marriage