Tonight I went out with a 40- and 50-something group of women. One has been with her man for 32 years, one divorced, and one widowed. Great ladies, but I don’t want to be them.
I never want to be settled, but then find myself having to start dating again. It was like sitting through dinner and drinks at a horror show. These ladies have grown-ass kids. They live alone. They’re skinny and leathery. They wear the exact same clothes–a tanktop and shorts is their uniform in this humidity. They know all about some men. They have higher expectations and more demands. They aren’t playing around. I’m not sure they’re having fun–but they’re certainly not having any success.
I wasn’t ready to be thrust into that scene. They speak so unabashedly about dating dilemmas and how low-grade the men are. But why do they need the men? They have families, friends, and jobs. They keep busy. So why did the entire night revolve around their problems finding a guy? It’s an echo of the conversation they had 30 years ago when they first started dating. I’m really too young for this shit. I’m already worried about how to meet people at 24, I certainly don’t need to be scared about how it’s going to happen thousands of miles, plenty of years, and pounds of emotional baggage later.