depression3This week, the plan was to share one of my many dating stories. I thought it was about time I interjected some humor into this blog, but as you will see, the universe had other plans…

I had another blog titled “A Casualty of Dating” that lasted from 2012 to 2014. Wait! Don’t bother looking it up! I took it down right around the time I slid into my dark cocoon of depression in 2014.

Prior to “the dark time,” I was having a blast being a single girl about town. I was going out all of the time, meeting people, making friends, traveling, and dating (not a lot, but enough to have accumulated my own arsenal of stories).

Then I met Steve and blogging about dating became really awkward. I didn’t want to write about our relationship because it was new and blossoming. Plus, he knew I had the blog, so I couldn’t really write anything personal because I wasn’t ready to share things with him. Steve “claimed” to have never read the blog, but one of his friends did (Yes, a real friend. A girl. I never met her, but I knew she was a real person).

Anyway, she would read my posts and then call him to see if the story was about him. Then he would get annoyed because he was a private person, and would beg me to block her from the website, which I couldn’t do. It became all kinds of complicated, but in the end, it didn’t matter. I broke up with him because I wanted to get serious, he didn’t and I didn’t want to wait around. Enter Depression, Stage Right.

So here I am this past weekend, going through my arsenal of stories, and a sadness came over me. I haven’t dated in almost four years. FOUR years?!?! That’s a long time to be single and so much has changed in me. I’m older, wiser(?), chubbier, and the dating pool has gotten a lot smaller. It’s harder… I imagine I’ve probably even gotten pickier and more set in my ways.

Even though I work for a tech firm and I’m surrounded by men, I don’t meet a lot of “available” guys. I never did… Not even in high school. I’ve never been the girl that guys talk to in a bar or get into random conversations on a bus. I guess I’m not approachable in that way.

My friend’s husbands and boyfriends seem to like me. They think I’m funny and smart and fun to hang around with. Not that I’m trying to get into the romantic zone with these guys… My point is, I think I’m a pretty cool chick, they think I’m a pretty cool chick, so why can’t I find any eligible men who not only think I’m cool but date-able too?

Online dating, you say? No way!!! What is it? Never tried it!!! Dude… DO NOT get me started about online dating. I’ve been there and done that so many times, on so many different sites since 2008, that the thought of online dating makes me want to vomit. I’m OVER online dating, but I do maintain a small online presence because what else am I going to do?

So why am I sad? I’m lonely. I’m so, so lonely…. I miss intimacy. I miss sex. I miss hugs. I miss having someone to talk to. I miss having someone to go to a movie with. I miss having someone around to hang pictures for me. I am proud that I alone have assembled every piece of Ikea furniture in my apartment, but what I would give to have a handsome guy, whom I loved, do it for me. I just miss… everything.

And then I started to wonder, is this it? Am I going to be that woman who remains alone for the rest of her life? The perpetual third wheel? The lone single friend that will be there for you to hang out with when your husband is out of town, only to be ignored when he returns?

It’s a possibility.

My friends say, “No way, dude. Not you. You’re too awesome and pretty and smart. Be patient.”

Well to that I say,”If I’m such a great catch, then why am I still single? Be patient!?! That’s easy for you to say, my friend, with your husband and three kids. I’m 41! Time is ticking away faster and faster every damn day…”

I mourn the optimistic girl that I used to be. She’s taken a huge hit in the gut and is lying on the battlefield with realism standing over her… Laughing.

And I’m scared. Scared of being hurt again. Goodness knows I’ve had enough of hurt in my past to last me three lifetimes. But on the other hand, I’m scared that I will never even get another chance to be hurt.

So why shouldn’t I prepare myself and be accepting of either scenario? No matter how much it hurts?

What do you think?