I called an old friend and ex beau last night to be cheered up after an emotional day of having to kick the latest guy to the curb.
"Speak louder," my friend said over the telephone. "If you're going to do this mature dating you're going to have to learn to talk louder."
I laughed, but it is sadly true.
If getting old isn't for sissies, then dating at a mature age is surely only for survivors. It pretty much sucks.
The latest one was crowding me. He's looking for a lifetime relationship. Been there and done that and right now I just want companionship and some fun.
The one before him thought I was getting too attached. Before that, the boyfriend thought my house would be a nice place to move into. ohno.
At my age, the dating pool is shallow and aging rapidly. How do I tell them that I helped one man die and I don't want to have to do it again?
It took my husband five years to die from lung cancer. I was there for him every step of the way. Every day. It was a hard, hard five years of my life and I did it willingly because I wanted him to enjoy every day he had left. But it is not something I would recommend if you have a choice on the front end. It takes strength and patience and all your time. And no matter how much you think you are prepared for the end, you are not.
My friend Cheryl says I should just get another dog and forget men.
There's merit in that thought. But dogs die too, you know.
