Dating at 51

Let's do this!

Good morning, Life.  It's Tuesday.  The first Tuesday of 2011.  There is excitement in the air.  In my air. 

As you know, I'm single.  I'm 51 and single.  I didn't expect to be 51 and single, but I am.  Up until now, I've not preferred it.  After all, I had imagined standing hand in hand with a wonderful man - My Soulmate - at this stage of life.  With the kids grown, we'd be planning the places we'd go and things we'd do.  Not even remotely my story.

All is not lost though.  I'm still fit and I feel I've got alot to offer.  So why not get back out there, right?  Sooooooo, come with me as I take you on my journey.

First I've got to establish some ground rules.  I'll blog about my experiences but I won't use actual names.  I will give them real names though other than John Doe or Thing 1 or Thing 2.  I think I'll let the name fit the personality of the man.  Yeah, that'll work.  Okay.  Let's do this!

I put up my profile a week ago.  I decided to reconstruct it.  New pictures, new description, new everything. I grappled with whether I wanted to pay any money or not.  I think that decision was made for me nevertheless.  The dating sites advertise being free.  Here's how they snag you.  If you want to read the messages left for you, you have to pay.  Arghhhhh.  Well, I'll show them, I thought.  I'll just pay the minimal and see how it goes.  Within 24 hours of putting it up, I had three phone numbers!

Stunned, excited and TERRIFIED, I called my friend, Gail, almost out of breath, to tell her about it.  She asked if I had called anyone yet.  Well, fast forward, I called her after phoning one of my potential beaus.  I'll call him Happy. 

Mr. Happy was...welll..ah...happy.  No kidding.  I mean really, really happy.  In fact, when I'd ask him a question, he'd burst into song.  If I'm lyin, I'm fryin!   He was very excited about talking to me, about the meal he was about to eat, and most of all, his salvation.  He all but gushed about how his relationship with God was at the core of his exuberance.  He even started singing one of those foot-stompin, hand-clappin prayer meeting songs.  On top of being happy, he was a real jokster.  I adore a sense of humor in a man.  I have a slap-stick, quick-witted side myself.  Yet I couldn't help envisioning Donkey in the movie, Shrek, as he talked.

"Please God," I prayed.  "Let him give me an out so that I don't hurt his feelings."  Before I could clear my throat, there it was.  He said he worked third shift.  Laaaaaaaaaaah, my sky opened up and I saw a rainbow, metaphorically speaking.  When he took a breath, I told him that he seemed like a delightful guy but I had a concern.  He stopped talking.  For the first time, I had his complete attention.  "While you're working, I'll be asleep.  And while I'm working, you'll be gearing up for work.  Then on weekends, well, you live out of town and have things that you do," I explained.  He said he understood. Thank GOD, I thought.  Then he began to beg me to let him take me to dinner.  "Pleeeeeeeease," he said.  Oops, vision of Donkey again.
  

This brings up another ground rule.  I will not use a man for a meal.  I could act naieve and say "well, if he wants to take me out, I should let him."  To me, that's a 20 or possibly 30 year old mentality.  At 51, I can't ignore the bigger truth.  His intentions were to sweep me off my feet and "love me like nobody has ever loved me before."  His own words.  No need of encouraging him.  I know better.