When I first started blogging about my new life as a widow – a relatively young one at that – I wrote a lot about dating and relationships.
There was a reason for that, and that reason was that I had gotten into another relationship pretty quickly following Bret’s death.
Lots of people said it was too quick, so naturally, I lost a lot of “friends.” Because, you know, the choices people make are what determine how worthy of friendship they are. (That is sarcasm; insert obligatory eyeroll here. 🙄)
Yes, truthfully, it WAS too soon, but that wasn’t anyone else’s business. My husband had just ELECTED to take his own life, which to me, at the time, was the ultimate f*ck you.
So yes, I found myself in the arms of another, and even though that relationship turned out to be fairly toxic in its own right, he and I needed each other, very much, at that time. We were both going through rough spots, and for about nine months, we went through all of it together.
After he and I split, I tried to get back out there. Let me tell you what, THAT was a nightmare. I could write Carrie Bradshaw-esque volumes about the awful dates, the terrible trysts, the very-little-good and a whole lot of the bad and the ugly.
It seemed like a good idea to blog about that – you know – to give people an idea of what dating a widow might be like, and to warn widows that the dating world had changed immensely since they were in it before.
But after some time, I found myself in a long-term, committed relationship that, for a while, seemed good for me. It seemed as if I finally found a mature, grown-up, drama-free relationship with a man that I might even marry someday.
Well, because this is me we’re talking about, that turned into a joke as well–a joke that wasted nearly five whole years– which, at the age I am now, is too much to just casually throw away. I am in my (gasp) fifties now, and am completely jaded by the dating world.
Completely.
I have discovered the dread “Situationship.” According to Google, a Situationship is “an informal romantic or sexual connection that lacks a clear label, official commitment, or defined future. It sits in the gray area between being single and being in a committed relationship.
For about five minutes, I was okay with this concept, not wishing to commit anything more permanent to something that probably wouldn’t last anyway. I mean, if my nice-guy, grown-up, five-year-long thing turned out to be all for nothing, then I truly had no hope about anything else being something lasting and good, at least not right away.
Much to my chagrin, most of what I have encountered out there since becoming single (again) is just meaningless hookups, audacious dating-profile demands, the aforementioned situationship, and so much ghosting, you’d think the world was just one big haunted house.
Don’t know what ghosting is? Consider yourself lucky. 👻
Sure, there have been some nice gentlemen that have expressed an interest, but y’all, I am wary now. So damn wary.
I am tired.
I am a perimenopausal, fifty-something, who is somehow appealing to younger guys–younger guys who definitely do not want to hang around for any real length of time. (And I do mean that in ALL the ways; do with that info what you will.) 🤷♀️
I want something real; I want something intentional, and have not, in all of these years, been able to find that.
Yes, I have baggage, and when I try to discuss that with a potential match, either they run smooth away, or they poo-poo it, refusing to listen, and just say “it’ll be alright.”
No, dude. We need to discuss it. And if you won’t, that’s yet another red flag for my giant red flag collection. (I’m thinking about making a circus tent or a parachute out of all of them.) 🚩
A fun fact about listing “Widowed” on your dating profile: Guys think you’re scamming them. Apparently, scammers always claim that they’re widowed, so for those of us who really are, we often get passed over because of stupid scam artists.
Then there are the ones who think because we’re widowed, we are “sugar mamas.” This one makes me laugh every time I think about it. Bro, I barely have enough money for me, let alone your gym memberships, new car, and podcast equipment.
When I said I was jaded, I clearly meant it, didn’t I?
But…
Maybe I am stupid, but I’m still holding out hope.
I still think that there’s someone out there for me, who’s not a player, who’s not looking for a sugar mommy, who just wants what I want: a loving, mature partnership, where we can just hold hands into the sunset and grow old together.
Does that exist anymore?
I like to think it does.
It’s been an absolute mess thus far, but I still think it does.
I still hope that it does.
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