This article started out as a Letter To The Editor. They published it as an article. And, being thrilled with that, I wrote 3 more installments. I've placed them all here back to back.
“Single Life Is Hell”
I’m a Single White Male, 35 years old, gainfully employed. I’ve never been married. I’ve had successful long term relationships. I’ve had unsuccessful short term relationships. I’ve dated co-workers, I’ve dated friends. I’ve waited for fate, I’ve tried to accelerate fate. Nothing works. Not for me. At least, not yet.
My question is, of course, what are the females of this country looking for? I know what I’m looking for. Someone tall, beautiful, sexy, slender, fit,
eyes that go on forever, creative, naughty, organized, spontaneous... you get the picture. That’s what I’m LOOKING for.
What I’d gladly accept is a totally different picture. Is she pleasant to be with? Is she able to make me smile? Does she make me feel comfortable to be around her? That’s the kind of girl I WANT. Outside of obvious attraction, looks aren’t as important as they seem. Maybe she’s not Meg Ryan, Cindy Crawford, Stephanie Seymour, and all the other music video vixens all rolled into one. I never really expected to find that anyway!
I’ve gone out with women who weren’t exactly thin. I’ve gone out with women who didn’t speak the language as well as most. I’ve gone out with a woman in braces. (And yes, she had been out of high school for quite some time!)
So.
The girls all want the Lawyer who earns $300,000 a year, with the perfectly wind blown hair, the washboard abdomen with an “all I want to do is take care of you” attitude. Right? Brad Pitt, Mel Gibson, and that Diet Coke guy all rolled into one. (If one of them was a Lawyer.) But, what are the women willing to accept?
We all want the perfect mate. But there are so few of those around. I’m trying like hell to establish new standards, but I was brought up on TV, movies and magazines. I’ve had it hammered into my head the kind of girl I’m supposed to be attracted to. The kind of woman whose grandfather owns Europe, and has a different foreign country given to her every year on her birthday. She’s ready, willing and able to have sex at any time or place. She’s a part-time model/actress when she’s not teaching aerobics. (Just so you know, I have never believed or expected these fallacies!)
There are those who say you can never accept less than your ideal. In my case I have to. My ideal, Julie Newmar (the original “Catwoman”) is married and somewhere in her late 50’s now.
I’m selective, but not picky. Does that make sense?
So, after much thought these are my new set of standards: Tall-ish. Creative in some form. The ability to make ME laugh. A true sense of honesty. An acceptance of who she is, and a willingness to better herself; if she desires it. A woman who likes herself, and is going to be honest with me, as well as herself. And I’m also looking for a woman who knows when to say when to food and alcohol. And, I still need slim. (Sorry.) There are some who will say, “where’s ‘attractive’? Where’s ‘pretty’?” It is my true belief, that there are so few truly unattractive people out there, that the degree of attractiveness doesn’t even rate. Attractiveness comes and goes; like bad hair days.
How’s that? Does it mean I’m still a sexist pig?
“Ordinary, Average Nice Guy”
In the time it takes you to read this article, 450* blind dates will be arranged. (A number pulled out of the proverbial hat, but it worked for me.) Fortunately, I won’t be one of them.
I’ve only succumbed to one or two blind set ups in my lifetime. I’m sorry, I don’t understand the concept. Especially setting yourself up through the personal ads! Maybe I’m jaded because the one time I placed an ill-written ad, no one answered it! But then, no one has wanted to go out with me because of any charming pick up line, my flashy car, or any unassuming sexual presence I possess. Any dates I do get happen because she gets to know me slowly. She comes to know, that I have a high level (if, wicked) sense of humor; I am disarmingly charming; am thoughtful to a fault; and just above-board nice.
There’s that word! Nice. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good word. It does define me, but I have a subliminal abhorrence to the word. Which all dates back to a single moment in time. As she and I discussed it, she admitted that maybe that word didn’t quite conjure up the “rapture” she was trying to describe. And , as she said, everything I did was nice. It’s a word that follows me around like toilet paper stuck to my shoe.
So, I’m nice. That’s not so bad. On my tombstone you’ll probably find, “He Was Nice.” I suppose there are worse things that I could be. So, I better not complain too much, I might lose my title. Then, everyone will have to choose a new epithet for this ambiguous, mysterious, and somewhat strangely alluring fellow.
The problem with being nice, and having to get to know me first is, I always end up being “friends” with all the females. I’ve ended up being friends with more females that I’ve had a serious crush on, that I’m now afraid to approach any, because it doesn’t go where I’d like it to go.
But, I do approach, and they get to know me. Then, they don’t want to ruin our friendship by letting a relationship get in the way. Then I get this line, “Why can’t I meet someone just like you?!” How can I say, “YOU HAVE!” and not lose my title of, Nice?
A relationship based on a good friendship is vitally important. This I know, and I do want that. It’s just that there are those that I’d like to be more than friends with. But maybe they sense that, and therefore, they proceed to push towards the “friendship thing”. Do you ladies do that? Are you unable to say what you want to say, so you push the “friendship thing”?
Hmmm. I wonder why I’m so confused? Is it me? Is it you? Is there someone else you have your eye on? Are you afraid of me? Am I afraid of you? Are you afraid of starting something that you don’t know how it’s going to end? Are you afraid of a nice guy with nice toilet paper sticking to his nice shoe?
“Anxiety And You”
Ok, so let's say your desired lunch partner has said, “Yes” to your invitation.* This is where the anxiety bully takes hold of your stomach and uses it as a piñata. You ask yourself, “What do I do now?”
That answer comes in three parts. The first part is nothing. There is nothing you can do that will combat the piñata basher inside you. It’s amazing how your stomach can be in knots when all you’re thinking about is your work. You all of a sudden realize that you’re about to “hurl”. You think maybe you’re coming down with that flu that’s going ‘round the office, and maybe you ought to cancel your lunch date. Ah! But that’s just what your bully wants you to think!
The second part is, go ahead and “hurl”. It’ll be something to laugh about when you and your date are married, have kids and are trying to explain the dating ritual to your daughter. At that time, you’ll have a different set of anxiety bullies bashing your stomach. And that’s a different newspaper. This is a paper about being bashed before you meet your possible soulmate.
The third part is the hardest. To listen to, and use your anxiety to your benefit. If you’re lucky enough to have your anxiety-ridden lunch date on Cinco deMayo, you can use that age old tradition of transference to bash a real Piñata! Just don’t scare your date to death with the severity of the pummeling you give the that little paper-mache donkey. If, however, your lunch date lands on one of the other days of the year, use that anxiety to keep the conversation flowing. Keep it snappy, light, and listen! Ask questions about the current topic of discussion. Even if you’re not really all that interested in the subject matter. It proves you’re listening. If you have something to add, wait for your date to finish their train of thought. There’s nothing worse than having your train of thought derailed before you get a chance to have toot your own horn a couple times.
The anxiety bully’s main purpose is to keep you on your toes, alert and aware that what you’re doing is not easy. As if you need a reminder. It’s not easy for most folks. It’s harder when you’re first starting as a teenager. Then, gets easier in your twenties, and then harder with every year afterwards. But harder doesn’t stop us from doing it. Because we learned as teenagers, that the anxiety always goes away. And sometimes we miss it.
We found out that anxiety provides almost a heightened level of consciousness. We’re more aware of our surroundings when we have a heavy dose of anxiety going. Have you ever been on a date, and you've decided to go somewhere that you know the food is good. Only to arrive there and feel like you’re there for the very first time. You notice the hanging plants, the placement of the odd stereo speakers, and if they just added some macramé, it would look exactly like 1973?
With this heightened sense of your surroundings, and if you’re intelligent at all, you can turn it all around and be a homespun version of Seinfeld. “What was with that whole Macramé debacle?! Who liked that stuff? It’s a bunch of knots! To UN-tie a macramé hanging, now, that would be a great tv gameshow!”
Anxiety is our friend. And just like our friends, they can be a royal pain in the but learn how to use it to your advantage and it will help take you to loftier heights of being charming, affluent, and give you a whole new appreciation for ulcer sufferers.
“Alone? Why, Yes!”
So, you say you’re between relationships? Taking a break are you? Just want to be single for awhile? Oh, you could have dates if you wanted, but you just don’t want to? Is it your choice to be alone, sitting on the floor eating cold popcorn, watching Public Access tv downing a huge glass of that crystal clear Portland tap water?
Yeah. Me too. I see all the same things you do, all the ads for Singles happenings. But I just don’t like to play cards with strangers. I don’t like to play cards, period. I don’t like to go Mountain Climbing with strangers either. I don’t like to go Mountain Climbing, period. I don’t have the cash to watch video tapes of all the people who will turn me down without ever having seen me face to face, or even talked to me using such modern technology as the cordless telephone.
It’s good to know I’m so isolated, no one even knows I’m alive. Isn’t that the point of dropping out of society? So, someone will notice you’re gone and get worried about you? Then you feel wanted, loved, and alive when you re-join society at large. Except be careful when you do. Catch up on what fashion is in fashion at that moment. Are the pastel colored tee-shirts under a suit jacket now considered a faux paus? Have the red, fur-lined collarless jackets become fashion death? And, what!? Clogs are back in?!?! How do they stay on your feet?! Have I really been out of it that long?
Food for one is so much easier, too. Isn’t it? You can be healthy when you want, or you can be the “Saturated Fat” Connoisseur of the Decade”. And no one will be the wiser. Except when your face breaks out, and you get comments from your dog like, “Aren’t you kinda old for Clearasil®?”
Okay, so now you’re ready to go at it again. Are you sure? It’s been awhile. Don’t want to hit The Heathman Lounge right away. Better warm up in the minor leagues first. Let’s see, what would be considered the minor leagues? I know what they used to be. But now?
“Rockbottom”? Must be. A place with that name must be for the lowest common denominator. Yes, and no. Mostly no. But, you’ll learn. Again. And again. And yet, again. Okay, there is no place for you anymore! All right!?! You have to make your own place. It’s hard? I know it’s hard! I’ve done it twice in my lifetime already. Me and my single friends single handedly turned a smoky little bar into a thriving hot spot. Or at least we were on the leading cusp of it turning into the biggest hot spot our little town had heard of in at least 2 years! The other one we kept a secret fairly well. We didn’t want to spoil it like the last place.
And so, now we’re looking for a new place to turn into our own, make it the thriving single gathering place, while keeping the undesirables out. You know the undesirables, the good looking competition! We definitely don’t want them joining our club! Unless they’re friends of a member, of course. But after doing that for awhile, you start looking around you saying, “I don’t want to date these people... and they’re the only people I hang out with... we rarely meet anyone new...what good am I doing here?
I guess I have to learn to play cards again. Damn!
Now, what trumps a lonely single?
"Single Life Is Hell" copyright © 1995, Darren Holmquist
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