MisAdventures in Mid-Life Dating: Enough is Enough
This is the seventh post in the MisAdventures in Mid-Life Dating series. Some of you may be thinking, "No, Paul there have only been 5 so far. This is the sixth!"
You're right. . . sort of. But, there's another unpublished, decidedly unfunny post. It's so intensely personal that I don't know if I'll ever hit "Publish" on it. I doubt that I will. . . ever. That would be the sixth in the series, so this is the seventh.
It's also quite probably the last.
Let me explain.
I'm very good at many things. I'm excellent at a good number of things. I'm a master at several things.
That said, I suck huge at dating. Or maybe I'm just out of practice.
Either way, enough is enough. I'm putting myself off-market as it were. It's time to regroup, refocus, and rebuild.
It's better for me. It's better for the women I meet.
I seem to be pissing them off wholesale.
C: The First Pissed Off Woman
C is pissed off at me with good reason. I won't go into the embarrassing details, so let's just say I was an unintentional arse. I really don't understand how C got so close so quickly. I rarely let anyone get that close. True, we've known each other for some 40 years, but we haven't spoken for at least 25 of those years. We only saw each other twice although she says it was one-and-a-half times. For all intents and purposes, we just met. Spoke nearly daily for two or three weeks, and that was it. Yet she's firmly stuck in my head.
I don't get it, but it is what it is.
Three factors blew up in my face.
ONE -- I forgot that not everyone is as technologically adept or equipped as I am. I usually respond to texts within seconds. Not everyone does, particularly not while driving. (Yes, I write and read texts while driving. No, I'm not one of those maniacs. It's all done by voice-command and dictation.) The absence of a response, even after several hours, does not necessarily mean someone is ignoring you.
TWO -- Text is devoid of inflection. Without inflection, a tone is difficult to convey. A message can be taken very different ways when read with different tones.
THREE -- C is more important to me as a confidante, sounding-board, and friend than as a love interest. . . not that I would object to her being all of the above. I was so uptight about not putting the friendship at risk while exploring other possibilities that I think I killed both.
My daily phone calls to or from C stopped on July 25th.
I miss them.
I miss her.
Coco: The Second Pissed Off Woman
C was the excuse I gave Coco for not getting together but C was only one of three reasons. With C pretty much out of the picture, Coco assumed she was the heir apparent like some bizarre form of inheritance law. Regardless of how I find that inheritance concept repugnant, there are still those other two reasons -- reasons that I did not need to discuss while C was in my head.
I no longer had that luxury. I had to discuss them. Then again, C is still in my head, and will likely stay there a while, so maybe I didn't need to discuss them after all.
I told you I was out of practice.
Anyway. . .
One, Coco's biological clock is ticking loud and strong. I have no interest in either permutation of that clock's consequences and feel it isn't fair to her to waste time with me when that primary drive is in full swing. Golf buddies, yes, but that's as far as I'll go.
Two, and this is related to One, Coco is 34. That's only 4 years older than my son and far too young for me. I'm 59. That makes for an elevated creepiness quotient.
I am not easily intimated. In fact, I don't intimidate worth a damn. But, when her voice turned arctic cold, she scared the crap out of me.
I'm back at the camp for my last two weeks cooking for the kids. Coco is coming to Lac de l'Achigan this weekend. She says we need to talk. In my experience, that means I need to listen. That most likely means I need to listen to her chewing me out.
Okay. I guess I owe her that much.
H: The Third Pissed Off Woman
What is it about younger women that makes them think they are the Holy Grail for older guys? Scoop . . . you aren't. Women are more interesting after 40 with their life experience, even with their baggage, than they are at 20.
Things came to a head when H asked, "Paul, when are you going to ask me out? I've been pretty obvious!"
I answered, "How about in 14 years when you're half my age?"
Okay, so maybe I didn't think that through.
If you aren't down with the math, H is 23. That makes her 3 years younger than my son's girlfriend. That is far too creepy to even think about let alone describe. It's off the scale on the creepiness quotient.
WTF! I just don't get it. Why?? What's the interest?
Maybe someone can enlighten me.
So I'm backing off from everyone
I don't like the idea of being alone. I have never been. In fact, my first wife used to joke that I would bring a date to her funeral.
I like the idea of pissing women off even less. It's time to stop inflicting myself on the poor girls. No more dating means no more misadventures, means nothing to post.
I'm okay with that.
Over the next few weeks and months, I will be undertaking a dramatic shift in my life, lifestyle, and life goals as suggested in one of my last conversations with C.
Maybe I'll restart the series after those things are done.