Apparently, I am so picky, that Match.com has started to add women into my selected matches. Really? Makes sense, right? If I have not managed to connect with the options that they have offered to me in the past 5 months, I must secretly be a lesbian.
Not that there is anything wrong with being a lesbian, I just do not happen to be a lesbian. I like men, or at least I am attracted to them. But as I type, maybe I am realizing the problem; I am attracted to men, but I don’t really LIKE men. I like the idea of a man, or of having one that is mine, and mine alone, but maybe I am truly not dating material.
Thinking back to my last relationship, I have a clear vision of the dreamy feeling that went along with playing out the romantic part of the relationship. I wanted to have sex; I wanted him to take me to bed. But as he lay snoring, I remember thinking that it was simply time for me to get dressed and go home. I did not want to hear him snore. I did not want to hear the sounds that he makes in the bathroom as he showered or gargled or whatever humans do in the potty. I wanted to be in bed alone; I was done for now. I needed a little more before I subjected myself to the “human” side of a relationship. Burping, farting and snoring were not yet welcome.
Had I turned into a man, somehow? Had I crossed over some line where it became acceptable to exhibit the feelings that men have displayed for hundreds of years? I saw, I wanted, I took, I was done. I had no desire for cuddling. Was I a man? Or was I fearful that an interaction would turn into a relationship that would again turn into failure? Do I push men away because I am done with them, or simply because I fear failure, yet again?
Honestly, I am not sure. The longer I spend on dating sites, the angrier I get at older men who have tummies and receding hairlines, wanting women who are “thin, or thin with athletic build”. I want to take my red pencil and edit their profiles. Have they looked at the photos they have posted? As I could certainly lose 10 pounds and not miss it, I post current pictures, and honestly describe myself as “curvy” which to some men apparently triggers the “chubby” button, so they ask. (And in case you don’t know, some men feel it is OK to be able to balance a bowl of chips on their stomachs, but still somehow feel that they have a right to date swimsuit models.) I get several emails each week, asking me to share with them my interpretation of what curvy means to me. Hmmm, let me think… Curvy, means curves, with curves, curvaceous… seems clear enough to me.
I received one such request from a gentleman who appeared rather fatherly to me. When I replied that “curvy” implies that I have boobs and hips, he replied that he needed a better full body shot before he decided that he wanted to pursue the conversation, to which I replied that I would be happy to comply, as long as he assured me that he did not need to use Viagra to help him manage my curves. Strangely, I never heard from him again.
It could be that I have a bit of an attitude, or that I still carry anger regarding my failed marriages. Or it can simply be that no matter how we progress as a society, we still live by a very unacceptable double standard. Few men take note of my doctoral degree, but they notice my long hair. Conversely, the first place I look in a profile is the effort that they put into writing their profile. For me, a bald guy can be an incredible turn on if he can make me laugh or if he is successful in whatever his profession.
So, sorry Match, you have four more weeks to match me with someone, or I will be taking you up on your 6 month guarantee, and you owe me a refund!