Isn’t it ironic…

I still feel like there is something not quite right in my world.

What that actually is though is still a little bit beyond me, I have no idea why I feel the way I do but I do feel like there is something missing in my life.

Maybe I am just at that weird junction in life, slightly before 50, kids growing up and becoming a lot less dependant but not totally independent and feeling like you don’t really have a purpose.  I mean obviously I am still chief cook and bottle washer but otherwise what am I?

I am oddly also a lone singleton.  By that I mean that my friends, with exception of some work colleagues, who I do sometimes socialize with, are all married or in relationships.  While I respect the fact that they are all married and can not entertain me at the drop of a hat, I do feel marginally isolated.  It feels like I have friends but I can only see them at certain times and this is usually when it is convenient for them and their partners/husbands and not just to suit me.  I get that of course I do but I miss having a group of friends to socialize with I suppose.

I am serial dating I feel like I have been out a lot of late, probably because I have but it isn’t the same.  It is not the same as going out for dinner with a friend or having a few drinks with friends, I just miss those casual, adhoc things and I know it is because I don’t have a man in my life.  If I did I probably wouldn’t be so bothered, would I?

I have always believed that friends are very important.  Good friends are hard to come by and as you get older your friendship groups dwindle slightly as you are more selective, you move around, settle away from your home town or change careers.  I love having good friends.  What am I talking about I DO have good friends.

I suppose it hit home a bit today maybe as I was sitting in another lovely pub garden a few miles from home this time and thinking how lovely it was.

My date was ok too, I should just throw that in quickly.

However, I did drift away from the conversation a little, while thinking how lovely and probably a lot more relaxing it would be to be sitting here in this lovely new pub that I have never been to before, not on a date.  Just eating cheesy chips and discussing how many white wine spritzers we can have before we can not drive home, with my girlfriends.  Maybe even eyeing up the group of young men that just happened to be sitting opposite us in the garden..

… just like the old days.

As a result of having slightly more time on my hands I have been trying to concentrate more on my writing and have started dabbling with a few short stories but this really is time-consuming and although I feel like I have more time, I still have demands on it. Interruptions can be plentiful and the pick up, put down thing just doesn’t work, you end up re-writing the same bits over and over again because you are not entirely focused.

I have three stories on the go already, none of which are close to being finished. I have a hundred beginnings to a story but not a single end.  At this rate it will be a collection of unfinished works, probably found when I die.

It has been another week of dating.  Today’s date was fine, they are always fine.  Actually that’s a lie as on Thursday I had my best date so far.

I wasn’t sure about this one to start with.

His messages were good, they had content and were funny and informative and contained more than one paragraph. Unusual. We exchanged numbers and sticking to my new rule of not messaging for days on end, we arranged to meet fairly quickly.  I had no idea what he looked like at this point.

After we exchanged numbers he sent a picture, so that I would know who to look for, always helpful when meeting someone for the first time.  He had no hair.  I am just going to say that his photo didn’t do him any favours and leave it there.  It goes without saying that I had already imagined what he looked like and it also goes without saying that I wasn’t anywhere close to right.  No surprises there.

In between us arranging the date and actually having it we messaged as and when, nothing heavy.  A couple of days beforehand he suggested we meet for drinks at The Ivy. I suggested that was a tad extravagant but he was not changing his mind.

As the date rolled closer though I started to change my mind.  I didn’t fancy him, should I just cancel?  What if he didn’t turn up anyway?  Can I really be bothered to keep going on all these bloody dates?

I messaged him.  Half hoping to not get a reply but then not actually getting a reply.  How dare he!  What was I going to do now, get ready or not?  I decided not and moped about for a bit instead, actually a bit pissed off.  Then at 6.55 pm my phone went.

Hi, sorry on train but will be there, 7.30 as planned.

Shit! I won’t I’m sitting in my dressing gown feeling bloody sorry for myself actually.

Bugger! I will be late. Sorry. Hadn’t heard from you so wasn’t sure..

That doesn’t sound sad at all!

Take your time. I don’t want you to rush, we have all night.

Now I feel like a complete shit.

I do not reply because I only have about 7 and a half minutes to get ready.  Luckily I had at least dried my hair and started my make-up.  I was ready in what can only be a personal best for me and out the door by 7.25 pm.  That is pretty damn fast even by my standards and I am not one to faff about.

I parked the car and walked to the restaurant.  I felt quite relaxed considering I was going to be walking in on my own and wasn’t entirely sure who I was looking for, despite the previous unflattering picture.  As I entered the restaurant the guy on the door smiled at me, young and very handsome, I smiled back and told him I was meeting a friend, just as my friend appeared at my side.

I was immediately pleasantly surprised and the best bit about that is that the evening continued to pleasantly surprise, he was everything I knew he would be charming, polite, funny and intelligent.  What I wasn’t sure about was if I would be attracted to him.  After all I have a thing about hair.  Or should I say had a thing about hair.  Not conventionally handsome in the tall, dark and exotic way, he definitely had something.

He had that thing that all men should have, I don’t know what that is exactly but he had it in spades.  A confident, assured manner he was entirely at ease with himself.  He was clearly a genuinely nice guy and effortlessly likeable but with an air of understated masculinity.  I was bowled over and that does not happen often.

There really wasn’t anything not to like, great venue, a few drinks and even better company.  I liked him.  I have to say I could have sat there all night but alas the evening came to an end.

The irony is however, he didn’t want to pursue things.  He was of course lovely about and even messaged me later to say how totally lovely he thought I was, although clearly not lovely enough. *rollseyes

When he walked me to my car he said that he thought we might be looking for different things, it is what everyone says when you are either not their type or they just simply don’t think you are the one.  So other than throw myself at his feet wailing and begging to be given a second chance (which I did think about for a minute or two),  I had to take it on the chin.  Those are the rules.

I have thought about him a lot though.  I don’t know if anything would have happened had we had a second date.  I will never know.  Even if we had it may not have gone anywhere after that but the thing with first dates is that they are such a small part of something.  Something big, something small,  who knows?  It is never given wings long enough to find out.

My date today called it a pre-date date, it is just a meeting to see if there is any chance you might want to see each other again but then he said, which I have to say I liked a lot,  that you have two ends of a spectrum.  At the top end is ‘Oh my God he/she is gorgeous I have to see them again,’ then at the bottom is ‘I would rather the population became extinct than have to reproduce with this person‘ and then there is everything in between.

It is unlikely that you will experience the top or the bottom end on every date but you may experience something in the middle.  Only meeting again will allow you to decide whether you will climb up the spectrum or slide down it.

Before we began our pre-date, I wouldn’t have said this guy would be my type but let’s be honest here for just for a moment.  I have been on a fair few dates now and apart from Mr Dynamic, last Thursday I haven’t been particularly bothered about seeing any of them again.  Admittedly there have been a couple along the way whom I thought yes, maybe but if it happened it happened and if it didn’t, so be it.  Surely I just should just start going with it, if he hasn’t been backhanded by a shovel, makes for a good conversation and it looks like you might enjoy spending time together then we just try it, do we?

If you only have three more dates then call it a day where is the harm?  You might have half a dozen dates and enjoy every single one, you might not but you have to get past this tendency to pooh-pooh everyone at the first hurdle, don’t you?

The irony is of course that the ones you want, don’t want you, this is just the way the world works.

I was chatting to a guy the other day who said that he preferred brunettes and always found them very attractive but had only ever dated blondes.  I can’t quite get my head around the whys and wherefores of what make someone attractive to another all I know is you generally end up with the complete opposite of what you thought you were looking for it seems.

So with that in mind am I any clearer about anything?  Am I bollocks.

So my date just texted me and asked me where he was on the spectrum.  I have gone with 7, that is good is it?  I think 7 is good enough for a second go.  He will probably come back with a 3 now and that will be me told.

 

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