Last year, before all my falderal, I had a schedule for this blog -- Monday's were about love, Wednesday's were about writing, and Friday's were at the Piedmont Grille. I liked that schedule and I think I'm going to try and go back to it since I'm not crazy busy anymore.
So here we are on Monday, and I'm going to write about love. Or should I say my lack thereof. For long -time readers of my blog, you know I'm a single parent, and some of you may also know my ex- finally got his act together and moved back to NC to be near our daughter. What most of you don't know, however, is that my ex- has moved back into our home.
NOT to be with me. To be near our daughter. Let me repeat that -- NOT to be with me.
Right from the get-go, I made it quite clear in no uncertain terms that WE were not a couple anymore. I had no desire for us to try and work things out and we would maintain separate bedrooms. (Which, luckily I had an extra one.) So far this has worked out well.
One of the big internet dating sites had a "free" weekend this past weekend and I toyed with the idea of online dating. No, I didn't join. I mean, seriously, what would my ad say?
SWF, 50, w/7 yr. old daughter, seeks companionship one or two days per week to meet for coffee/chat. Cannot travel, cannot date at night, cannot bring you home because my ex- lives with me. Hobbies include -- BBC adaptations of Jane Austen, writing, reading, and trying to get a grip on housework. Must be between the ages of 45-60, single/divorced, like old rock and roll, be sober, have a job, and vehicle. Looking for long term commitment with no foreseeable future.
How many men do you know would answer an ad like that? Besides the crazies.
And truth be told, I don't even know if I'm actually serious about getting into another relationship these days. I've got my career going on, The Monster is my top priority, and I've gained so much weight, well, I'm not exactly comfortable in my own skin.
But with spring right around the corner, and the (almost) promise of returning to the beach in RI again this summer, my thoughts have turned to the men I met on vacation last year. The guy on the beach, the guy in the fish department at Stop & Shop, and the chef at the restaurant where we ate like 6 times. (There are no men in NC that attract me. NONE.)
I've been in this "love limbo" for about 6 years now. It's not fun. And as the clock ticks closer to my big birthday I have to wonder if I'll ever fall in love again. I mean, I'm not looking to get married. I've remained free from the nuptial noose for this long, why bother. One in two marriages end in divorce anyway. Why be a statistic.
But the thought of remaining for the rest of my life without another someone to kiss good-night really has me bothered. The thought of never having sex again is kind of disturbing. (Then again, it has been 5 years, what's a few decades more. Sorry, that might have been a little too much information. But you know, this is my reality.)
The things I miss about men are subtle -- a shared joke, a mid-day call just to check in, bringing home a gallon of milk without me asking, help with the dishes. But that kind of stuff takes years to achieve. And I'm feeling like I don't have too many years left, before the looks completely fade, and the arthritis really sets in.
Don't get me wrong, I'm happy being single. I'm too independent and too set in my ways, I think, to really have what I might have wanted back in my 20's. But a nice lunch every now and again would be great. A walk through a museum or a night out at the theatre would be swell.
(And for those of you who say or think I should give my ex- another chance -- hush your mouth. THAT will NEVER EVER happen. I may have forgiven him, but I will never forget what he did to me and our daughter. There is no trust or respect left in that relationship.)
So tell me -- Do you think love after 50 is possible? Or am I more likely to get hit by lightning at 12,000 feet in an airplane?





