I think the hardest thing about dating as a thirty-something is that you just don't have the luxury of making incidental contact with other single people. The biggest thing is not being in school anymore. It's amazing how few people you meet as a working stiff. In addition to which, as the pool of people in the "married" and "engaged" columns grow, so shrinks the pool of those in the "single" column. Not having the skill set to find my true love at a bar or the grocery store, I turned to life's great equalizer--the Internet. No other invention in human history has made communication and connection so easy and accessible. Of course this modern marvel would provide me the much-needed boost in my quest to find true love, right?
Wrong. Absolutely wrong.
I'm definitely no online Casanova but I think my sample size of these types of first dates is large enough to say with some degree of certainty that most of them result in failure. Like 99%. It seems that no matter how swimmingly the initial courtship goes via the Internet, you can bet money that the girl and I will be leaving our encounter just the same as when we met--single. But it's not just the failure rate. No, I'm tenacious enough not to let mere failure bother me. It's the manner of failure. Failure of the utter soul-crushing variety. Most of these things start with the girl and I meeting face-to-face and her smile slowly deteriorating into a frown. I'm sure my face exudes the same level of enthusiasm for the encounter; a feeling of "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" Of course, at that point it's too late to back out. Online etiquette dictates that some semblance of a "date" be performed. So the two of us go through the motions with the same level of joy as visiting the dentist. And after it's all mercifully over and a pleasant handshake goodbye has been exchanged, I'm left to contemplate, "I friggin' drove 30 miles for that?"
And that's just one date. Stack those up one on top of the other in some sick, teetering Jenga tower of romantic ineptitude, and the weight of all that joylessness starts to really wear you down. I will say, though, that every once in a while you meet someone with which you wouldn't mind having a second date. You don't find each other repulsive, no small victory. But more than that, there are commonalities--she likes dogs, too! Ah, there's that small glimmer of hope that perhaps this will be the one that springs forth into something special. And so the first date continues into a second and third. . . only to wither and die on the vine like all the others. At about date three, you realize that the whole thing is just am empty facade. A false hope (the worst kind); a promise that will never be fulfilled. As much as you both want it to be so, it isn't. And you both know it. So in the end it becomes just another dead carcass to add to the ever-growing pile.
Needless to say, the whole proces makes you really tired. More than tired. Exhausted. But even beyond that. It's a feeling for which I have no word to describe it. But whatever it is, it makes you seriously contemplate giving up on the whole thing. "If it was meant to happen, it would've happened by now. Just like it has for everyone else. The clock's struck midnight, and the party's over, pal. Leave that glass slipper by the door on your way out." In the period of three brief months, excitement turns into anxiety turns into desperation turns into the worst of all emotions--apathy.
But, because life is funny like that, just when the walls are really starting to close in, it happens. You meet that girl. The circumstances of your meeting are similar to all the others before, but you know right away that she is nothing like the rest. She is someone with which you have that something. Call it spark or chemistry or whatever, but it's something that the wisdom of age has taught me comes few and far between. Not only that, but like most things that are truly special, it is fragile and delicate. Something that demands my attention and care, but not something to be suffocated.
Truth be told, I'm a little nervous about striking that balance given that I'm usually all thumbs when it comes to things like this. Like, in the past, this is usually where I would've proclaimed that this girl is "The One," only to have to walk that back in a few months. Of course, I know better now. That such things are not meant to be proclaimed by me. At least not now. If it is, it is. A truth is always the truth; not something that needs broadcasting. But, although a truth, it is one that takes time to be revealed. Patience and diligence, young grasshopper. I suppose it's a bit embarrassing to be admitting that I'm learning these obvious life lessons so late in life, but better late than never, right? And so with that, off I go.
--KM
"I know beyond a doubt that my heart will lead me there soon."
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