Thursday was hair day for me. I drove up to Grass Valley, my old stomping grounds, where my hairdresser is located. As a barber shop provides sanctuary for men, a beauty salon offers the same respite for women. Much is discussed under a salon roof during the couple of hours we ladies spend there. After my color was applied, I was seated in a room with four other customers, all in various stages of “cooking” their roots. The woman directly across from me, had enough tin foil in her hair to provide rib coverage for a hometown Texas barbecue. As women will, whether acquainted or not, we began to speak amongst ourselves. The young woman to my left, I’d say in her late twenties, told us she was on a dating site. The week before she had gone on her 46th “first date”. The 46th man standing, had asked her to a movie. Personally, if trying to find out if I like someone, a movie would be my last choice if venue. Unless you are one of those annoying people who talks during the entire show, how are you going to learn anything about the person seated next to you? At any rate, plans were made for them to meet at a shopping center then drive together to a local theater. Five minutes before the date was to begin, she got a text from him asking if she would mind if several of his family members joined them. Already in the parking lot where they were to meet, she replied, “I guess that’s fine”. As it turned out, half his immediate family and some of his extended family were included in the invitation. His mother, several cousins, a young nephew, a younger sister, and a brother and his date were all waiting in front of the theater for them when they got there. In the middle of the movie, a text arrived on her date’s phone ostensibly from his maternal grandfather. The text, so it seemed, was to advise him his grandmother was having palpitations and had been rushed to a local ER. Whispering all this in her ear, he added his grandpa was ninety and couldn’t manage this by himself, so he had to go to the hospital to help. Before leaving, he asked his brother to get her back to her car. Really? Several questions come to mind here. One, why is his mother still eating her popcorn while her mother is in dire straits at the ER, and secondly, how amazing is it his 90 year old grandfather knew how to text? Just saying. To my mind, Mom might have been the one to leave, since her son was on a DATE. Seemed a bit dicey to me, but then I’m older and have more battle scars to my credit. Feeling totally like the fifth wheel, this poor girl had to wait til the movie was over, and then be driven back to her car by strangers. Wow. I would have called Uber. According to her, this wasn’t even her worst date. That being true, I might just get a puppy and leave it at that. She went on to say, she also had a stalker in the mix, someone she called “the groper”, several scammers and three different guys who had simply portrayed themselves as other than what they were. Check please.
This got me to thinking about the men I’ve met so far. The first man is a lovely man I like to call, “the thinker”. Very deep well this human being. I find him intellectually stimulating and have learned a great deal communicating with him mainly via text. I’ve met him only once for a cup of coffee, but we have formed a friendship through texts which I find I’ve come to look forward to every day. He is coming to dinner soon, so we will see what lies hidden behind that door. Whether or not I form a lasting bond with him remains in the air, but as I say often, you take something away from every encounter you have. Each person, like seasoning in a savory stew, adds a little flavor to the pot. Sometimes it’s too much salt, and other times it enhances the taste. Even a woman at the check out counter at the market who shares a recipe with you while paying for her groceries, or gives you the name of an odor free cat litter, leaves you with new information to take along with you on your journey.
After the thinker, came “the tinker”. A lovely man, definitely old school. He spends much time refurbishing and reselling items he picks up at yard sales and local auctions. I find him kind, thoughtful, entertaining, and very resourceful. Not a person to sit at home waiting for life to happen to him. I’m not sure he’s a love match, if you will, but he is an extremely nice person to spend the day with. Sometimes that is enough, for that day at least.
Then “the head shrinker” appeared on the horizon. A psychologist, by trade, he possibly needed one to talk to one as well. This man didn’t seem to know from one minute to next what his right foot or his left foot were doing. We met twice. The first time was over a cup of coffee when he mentioned he liked the freedom to throw his clothes all over the floor and live with wild abandon now he was living alone. After that revelation, he went to say living alone provided him the space to be himself. Another potential partner who made me question why, if they are so happy living unencumbered, they take the time to sign up to on a dating site to meet someone to burden themselves with? So curious. On our second date, which was dinner, over dessert he said he had been dating someone for nearly a year who professed to be in love with him. Assuring me the feelings were not reciprocal, he went on to say didn’t want to hurt her so didn’t want to break up with her. First, I don’t want to be the one who caused another woman pain. Second, what? Again, check please. Oh my.
The gentleman in who’s company I spent the most time, would be “the stinker”. The stinker and I actually shared a definite connection. Unfortunately, however, our political and ideological leanings were polar opposites of each other. As much as I hoped we could simply agree to disagree, after a while it leaned far heavier towards disagreeing. Fighting my way through my remaining years would not be something I would look forward to. Too bad, because like myself, he liked to spend time in the kitchen, and we both shared a slightly offbeat and quirky way of looking at life. Those definite core differences, however, would not be overlooked. Eventually, it became clear we would have significant trouble blending our worlds. Our families, and many of our friends, share our way of thinking. In the end, it was better to finish before we started. I’m not viewing this as a regret in any way, because I have taken from that relationship the happy knowledge romance is still possible for me. Also, lesson learned here, find out which side a potential man’s allegiances lie and how deeply they influence him before accepting his invitation to dinner. In today’s volatile political arena, it can make a difference.
Then there was “the winker”. This guy never met a lady he didn’t appreciate. Kept calling me “baby” or “sugar babe”. Uh-uh. Only my mother was entitled to use baby as an endearment, and not even the Queen is entitled to call me sugar babe. I have been sweetie, honey, babe and honey bun over the years. You have to draw a line in the sand somewhere. Also, I was married to a winker back in the 80’s. The only person happy in that relationship, is the winker himself. Next.
Lastly, I met “the drinker” for a cocktail this past week. I should have taken note he owned three bars when he was in the Bay Area. Though a very nice man in many ways, and easy to talk to, I could see by the third cocktail arriving at our table in an hour and a half, drinking was something very much a part of his fabric. This, and smoking, are deal breakers for me. I have watched alcohol destroy people I loved and two men die of lung cancer. Just not on my acceptable habits list. Social drinking is fine. I enjoy an adult beverage here and there myself, but not habitual drinking.
So, all I need now is a tattoo artist who I could call “the inker”, or a well digger who I could call “the sinker” and I’d be almost through the ink words.
While in the beauty parlor, and on the subject of dating sites, the pictures the men were posting became a lively topic of conversation. Seriously, gentlemen, in the kindest way, you need to step it up just a tad. Some of the profile photos look like recent D.U.I. shots fresh off the police blotter. In others you see a guy wearing the old plaid shirt with the mustard stain his wife told him to put in the donate bin, or half his face might be missing. Others are are so pixelated, you can’t see the image at all, making you wonder if that is the point. If you want the fish to bite, you have to put out more tantalizing bait. I’m just saying.
So that’s my dating log for today. My belief if is “if you don’t try, you don’t get”. I would prefer to put myself out in the world to see if my prince awaits and have a misstep or two, than to have never made the effort. These men are to a man very nice people in their own right. I like to think I am a nice person in mine. Because we are nice people, does not make us a romantic fit for one another. Finding a soul or love connection that is real and lasting is a big endeavor. Some people never find it. My pheromones are in the wind. The quest continues. Wish me luck.
I’ve never used a dating app. The concept is horrifying.
When I had hair, the barber shop was so busy that it wasn’t really a sanctuary. Home is my sanctuary.
I hope you can complete the set with an “inker”. You never know; the “inker” may be your perfect match.
Well, when you get past working and having kids in school your world becomes smaller. I know a lot of people who have met someone wonderful on one of the sites. I’m willing to look at it. The inker might be interesting. I will keep my eyes open.