I’ve been divorced for about 18 months now and I think it’s time to jump back in the dating pool. Let me tell you, the pool? Is full of some, um, interesting people. It's less a pool and more of a fetid swamp.
Take the 60 year old guy who sent me a picture of his naked self without so much as a word of introduction.
Or the 26 year old who stalked me around via email and messages thru the dating site, insisting that I go out with him. (No. I have a son who’s only three years younger than you. That’s just weird.)
But the king of them all is a guy I’ll call Brian (because that’s his name).
For a week or so, we chatted via email and text. We exchanged mildly flirty remarks and finally I worked up the nerve to ask him out. We met up last Thursday. He was handsome and tall and very funny and a good conversationalist. We had a couple of drinks and some food and I had a good time; it seemed like he did, too. We kissed in the parking lot for a bit. It was nice. Lovely, in fact.
But then, nothing. We’d already made plans to go out the next Monday but he never contacted me. I sent one email on Monday morning, asking if we were getting together that night. Zilch.
Here’s the thing: I’m not a delicate, fragile flower. I’ve done this before. I’ve been let down and disappointed by men and I’m sure I’ve done it in return but to just not call? To not say anything? Is so cowardly. It was one date; granted, it was, I thought, a very good date, but it was still just one date. I wasn’t looking for a lifetime commitment, just some contact.
Maybe this age of instant communication is the problem. I used to worry if I hadn’t heard from a guy after a week. Now? It’s more like 24 hours seems like an eternity to go without communication. Especially when the emails and texts were flying back and forth like mad in the run up to the date.
Suck it up, guys. If you don’t want to see a woman again, tell her that. You are in your late 30s or early 40s. This isn’t junior high. Rip the fucking band-aid off quickly and stop dicking women around.
