My Life as a Rom-Com

My dating life, or lack-thereof, is reminiscent of a standard girlie rom-com, only sans rom. I have flirted with online dating for many moons since the demise of my marriage. I even dated someone briefly and just found out he got married in June. I’ve tried match.com but found it to be pointless to use as a non-paying member. I tried to register on eHarmony, but they wouldn’t have me because, at the time, I was separated but not divorced and I foolishly answered that question honestly. Lately, I’ve used OkCupid because a friend hyped it up after finding her husband from this particular app. I find it is the best to use without having to pay, since most features are available and you can communicate for free. Still, I haven’t found Mr. Right-for-me after wading through plenty of duds. Some memorable interactions include a young man who pretended to be someone else, fake pictures and all, because he wanted to lose his virginity to an older woman. One man I saw a few times gave me a humidifier for my little ones for Christmas. He demanded I return it to him when I broke it off a few months later. He would text me nearly obsessively, at first demanding I return the humidifier and then trying to reconcile. He recently found me on the site again and I’ve blocked him. I’ve had dates where the expectation for intimacy was palatable and where I chattered on and on while trying to get the guy to open up and say a few words. I had one guy secretly follow me home and leave me flowers on my porch and show up uninvited. Three guys have gotten mean and nasty, calling me names. One got mad because I asked him to stop calling me ‘babe’ and because I wasn’t interested in playing along with his scheme to financially dominate him while he pretty much dictated everything else I did. Another called me a dike because I cut my hair and told him I wouldn’t grow it out for him. I by-passed the foot fetish guy who wanted me to send him pictures of my feet constantly. I dodged the needy guys who simply could not survive going one minute without a text from me. One guy I was into and we set up a time to meet then he ghosted me for no reason. There are the hanger-oners, the guys who send me the same text day in and day out and we never really get anywhere because I don’t know them enough to even want to meet them. And, the most insidious of all, I avoided the men who thought they could get me pregnant by their sheer manliness, never mind my diagnosis or past treatments. So while the guys I’ve talked to have run the gamut from total needy train wrecks to narcissistic jerk wads, the guy for me has just never shown up.

 

In the rom-com movie I see in my mind’s eye, I have a quirky and kindhearted best friend who sits me down and tells me about myself. She tells me I’m too hung up on finding someone I deem the best fit for me that I am not giving anyone a chance to get to know me. Over cheap wine and popcorn at a girls night in at her place she admonishes me while I page through my potential matches and nix each one for various minor issues. “This one called me ‘hun’ the first day we “met” so he’s out.” “Oh, it says here he drinks often and I don’t, so we wouldn’t match.” “This guy’s profile says he doesn’t know if he wants kids or not, so we would never work out.” My bff would grab my phone and hook me up with a guy, telling me I had to follow through or else. Slowly, after a few more dates with guys way hotter than I’d see in real life, I would have an epiphany and realize what I was doing wrong. There would be a montage of me alone looking wistfully out a window or walking slowly in the rain and then wham-o! I would find Mr. Right-for-me and the movie would end with us being deliriously happy together. Cue the credits.    

 

Sadly, my life is not this rom-com movie. I don’t have a pithy friend shoving me out of my comfort zone and other than knowing I’m being picky, I have no real idea why I can’t seem to find someone to date. I know I think too much about it. I know I try too hard to make the unknown future make sense to me because I don’t want to be hurt again as massively as I was when my ex left. I know I use the kids as my shield, my get out of jail free card. And I find the effort to arrange my schedule and child care daunting and often times not worth the effort.  I give up too easily, not taking up offers on second or third dates because the first one just didn’t live up to my impossible standards. Most days it all feels so impossible. I want to believe in romantic love again, but I feel I’ll just be that lonely old lady with a ton of cats at the rate I’m going now. At least I’ll eventually have grandchildren, right?