I’m tired. Tired of hoping I’ll run into Mr. Right at the supermarket, or in some minor fender bender. It’s not that I’m all that unhappy on my own but it does take two to tango and I really could use a spin on the old dance floor, if you know what I mean. I’ve had no luck with internet dating and don’t plan to travel that bumpy road again and unfortunately, no one seems to throw parties anymore. Everyone I know is coupled up and in bed by ten which made me think: There has to be a better way.
In my quest to meet eligible men I decided it might be wise to take the “retro” approach and ask my friends to fix me up. Even if they were without candidates, I told them to keep me in mind; who knows, things can always change. And I figured if I asked every person I know to fix me up it would accomplish two things. First, surely the law of averages would be on my side and I’d probably get a few dates out of it. And second, I’d be putting the message out to the universe that I am indeed ready to date again. (I am also a firm believer in the Law of Attraction)
After taking this approach a few times I found I became less timid about asking my friends and acquaintances (and sometimes women I met in line for the ladies room) to find me a man; I guess practice makes perfect in that regard. But unfortunately the results from these efforts have been dubious at best, seeing as how thus far I have been batting zero, nada, niente; this was not only disappointing but it was beginning to shake my entire “retro” premise to the ground.
Then I thought I saw a glimmer of hope when a dear friend, who happens to be my hairdresser, was showing me his digital portfolio and a very cute guy appeared on the screen.
“Who is that?” I asked, trying to keep the hope and excitement out of my voice. This is really hard to do when you are desperate, a state I ‘m thinking of moving to.
He told me his name. “He owns a recording studio,” he added
“Is he single?” I asked, once again trying not to let my voice raise more than two octaves.
He hesitated. “Yeah…” Even his reply was hesitant.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked suspiciously.
“Well…nothing really,” he hedged some more.
“How would you feel about fixing us up?” A silence ensued. “I’m asking everyone to fix me up. It’s my new thing.” More silence and hesitation on his part. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”
“You wouldn’t do or say anything to make me lose him as a client would you?” he worried aloud.
We both started to laugh at the sheer absurdity of this notion. “What could I possibly say?” I continued, just a hair short of begging. “That you’re the world’s most reluctant matchmaker? I just want to start dating. Have a conversation with a man I don’t know. Get back in the saddle. It has been a rather long drought in that department and I’m parched!”
“Yeah…” he pondered aloud.
“So tell me about him.” I prodded.
“Well… he always falls asleep when I’m coloring his hair.” He said.
“That doesn’t sound too promising.” I took a minute to process the picture he had conjured up for me. “Never mind.” We both erupted in laughter, but it was painful laughter. “I may be desperate but I’m not that desperate!”
“Maybe he just needs to relax or he has narcolepsy or something,” he began to defend the guy. ”He’s gone through a really bad divorce. His wife just up and left him one day. No explanation. Just left him.”
“Maybe she got tired of watching him sleep!” I joked. “Really. Never mind. Can you imagine? The guy would probably fall asleep on top of me while we were having sex! I can just see it now: that would be taking humiliation to a whole other level.”
Once again, we were rolling with laughter and yet, I was kind of crying on the inside. I had been so ready to get my hopes up! But that was the end of that little foray.
Although I realize that at this point my choices in the dating pool, or should I say the wading pool, are a bit limited, that will not deter me. Besides, I’ve only gone through half of my Rolodex. And I will keep putting myself out there, taking the retro approach until it eventually yields me some prospects. In the meantime, I’ll have to settle for being happy on my own as I continue my quest for a date, chanting that time honored mantra of divorcees everywhere: Is he single?
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