Boy, it's getting chilly here in NYC--the breeze is blowing vociferously through my backyard this sunny morning. And I am sitting here in my silly pink bathroom (feeling a bit like the Michael Douglas character in Wonder Boys) as I drink coffee and eating some peanut butter with blueberry jam on whole wheat toast. (My usual breakfast, by the way.) Also, I smell very good, thanks to some Orange-Ginger aromatherapy cream I just rubbed all over my knees and calves and elbows and forearms.
Anyway ... yesterday, I met with a high-end matchmaker, Lisa Ronis, who is going to try and set me up with some of her fancy clients. Her usual fee is a gajillion dollars but she waived it for me, since I'm a dating blogger. We sat in the Sunburst Cafe in the late afternoon, sipping tea, and discussed my dating life. She asked me questions that aren't all that different from the ones an Internet personals site might pose: What kind of activities do you like to do? What qualities do you want in a mate? Do you like tall men? Are you okay with men who are balding? That kind of thing.
Lisa also wanted to know how old the men I'm interested in are.
"For whatever reason, I've never gone on more than one or two dates with anyone older than me since my early twenties," I said. "Seven years younger seems to be about the average. And last night I went out with a 25-year-old ... which was pretty fun." I grinned like the Cheshire cat.
Lisa did not approve of my frolicking with younger men. "It sounds like you're not very serious about finding someone for the long-term," she said. "What's going to happen when you're ready for kids, if you're dating a 25-year-old?"
I also had to wonder if she was right about me not being very serious. I'm not sure I want kids, though I do want a long-term relationship ... don't I? And yet, why do I find myself so frequently thinking I'd never date this guy seriously--but why not have fun for the next three months? Why do I almost always date guys who are "wrong" in some way--whether because they're egregiously young, or struggling artist-types who are never going to make a decent living, or depressives (or narcissists) incapable of being sufficiently emotionally engaged?
All the same, I think there's a simple logisical reason that I date younger dudes: They are the only ones who aren't married, shacked up, etc.
On the other hand ... I'll admit that the thought of settling down with someone for the rest of my life seems quite terrifying. I mean, long before I started writing this blog, I loved dating in large part because of all the crazy stories it gave me--stories that my friends loved to hear about, and I loved to tell. If I settle down with someone, will I run out of material entirely? Will I have anything to talk about?
Fellow single people: Do you ever worry that life will become crazy-boring if you get married? And married folks--please reassure the rest of us here--it doesn't, right?
(Also, do you guys think I have deep-seated fears of commitment and intimacy ... or do you think it's just been hard for me to find the right person because I am kinda sui generis?)
I think I had some serious issues before I turned thirty. And then, after I turned thirty, I started to overcome them ... just in time for it to become exponentially harder to find a long-term mate.
Anyway, I am feeling the need to wrap up the post for the day, and I still haven't told you about the fireman from Monday night! (Shoot, he was cute.) Tomorrow, okay?
sorry i didn't respond yesterday!
--to the chick who had casual sex with the party-thrower: i'm sure you've already acted on this but i'd add the dude as a friend, leave it at that, and if he writes to you, cross that bridge when you come to it.
-Jenny ... funny, my mother died when I was young, too, and I had my existential crisis very early on (and spent a few months in the hospital trying to overcome it). But I've gone the opposite way--fearing commitment and intimacy instead of moving towards it. Which is too bad. As for marrying young: Two of my dearest friends from college eloped when we were all 18; their marriage has lasted and is one of the happiest and closest I know.
-Love After Paris: holy moley, lady, what a royal d*ckhead you had to deal with! I think I've heard enough to be able to say, with confidence, that it certainly was NOT you. It was him. I'm so sorry. Hope you're okay. That experience, as truly horrible as it was, shouldn't make you scared of all men--they are some good ones out there! Keep on keeping on, and put that loser behind you.
-And Kay? I am so with you on being truthful ... but I swear, sometimes it gets me into trouble! (Well, or at least, maybe it does when I'm too honest on my blog. As in the Sir Hugo case.)
-Edwinna: One more day of cruelty--I'm sorry--can you hang in there? :-)