I received an email recently from a guy with a blog who wanted to share links with me (what's that called in the blogging world anyway? co-linking? heyheyhey... No really, we are talking BLOGs here people!) I was expecting a blog about widowhood or loss or single-parenting. I did not expect a blog about dating. I had to giggle a little thinking the guy must have done a Google search on "Frustrated" and "Dating" to find my site. Of course I had to browse Evan's site, as there seems to be quite a bit of interesting info and advice there. That's when the "Why Bother Syndrome" jumped out at me. Apparently, I am afflicted with something that actually warrants the title of "Syndrome." Great. But I do have to wonder, have I really given up? Evan says he dated 300 women over ten years before he met his wife. So at 30 dates a year, that's about 1.5 dates a week? Whew!
It begs the question, how did people ever possibly meet before the Internet? Was the advice then still about the numbers -- success comes from dating many frogs? I can't imagine people dated 300 times over ten years when they had to deal with newspaper ads and P.O. boxes.
I know I am justifying my single status, perhaps pretending I am cool with being single, relieved even. I am sure many of you know how much mental energy it takes to do online dating. At every turn, it seems I am either disappointed or I am disappointing someone. And can you really get to know someone in one date? In the 40+ dating pool, you hear tons of "we're old enough now to *know* right away when someone is right." I know because I used to say it myself. But now, I'm not so sure.
Arron and I took years before we actually fell in love. We liked each other and enjoyed hanging out, but it wasn't all rockets and fireworks after the first date, though I was intrigued. I can't help thinking that if I were to meet him now through online dating, I probably wouldn't give him a second glance.
But I won't lie and pretend I don't lie in bed at night imagining some cute sumthin, sumthin lying in my arms. Or waking up in the morning all languid... OK, better not go there! I do. Every night. There is still a gaping hole that Arron left behind, sort of like a phantom limb. But my reality is limbless, and I think that after 8 years I am finally coming to terms with it.
Of course, it won't stop me from checking out Evan's site from time to time. Who knows, maybe with a little dose of Evan's rah-rah dating optimism, a little sumthin, sumthin will come our way.
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