My first "Mature" date-The Attorney

    Being an outside sales representative in the medical community allows me to meet people everyday.  My favorite part of my career is developing genuine friendships with the people I see on a consistent basis.  In order to achieve that bond with my customers, I need to disclose personal information about myself.  For example; my marital status. 

   I don’t run into my customer’s offices and yell out I’M SINGLE!! That would be weird.  I reveal this information through casual conversations over a period of time.  The typical reaction or statements from my customers are:

“I can’t believe you’re still single”

“There has to be something wrong with you, what is it?”

“You must be too picky”

     My generic response to these questions is; “I just haven’t met the right guy yet.” 

A lot of times my customers change the subject but once in a while I get; “I have the perfect guy for you!”

    That’s what happened one Monday afternoon.

  
   “He’s older than you, I think he’s about fifty.  He is an established attorney and a very sweet guy.”  My customer said describing the man she desperately wanted me to meet.

   I was thirty-three at the time and only dated men my age.  It never occurred to me to date someone older.  As my customer continued to talk about The Attorney, the wheels in my head turned.  The thought of dating a mature man sounded appealing.  I found that the men I dated close to my age kept their options opened.  It seemed like they were looking for something better to come along.  Not to mention the fact that settling down was the furthest thing on their mind. 

    I interrupted her description by shouting, “I’d LOVE to meet him! When can you set it up?”  I startled her with my eagerness but I didn’t care.  I assumed that an older man might be interested in a relationship and maybe open to marriage someday.

     My customer gave The Attorney my phone number shortly after I left her office.  He called that same afternoon.  We talked for a few minutes before he invited me to dinner. 

    We met at beautiful restaurant overlooking the Connecticut River.  It was a Thursday night and the place was crowded.  He requested a quite table with a view of the water and we got it.

    “You look gorgeous!”  The Attorney said after the hostess sat us at our table. 

    “Thank you.”  I sheepishly replied unsure how to complement him.   He was far from being gorgeous but I couldn’t tell him that.  He looked odd but I couldn’t tell him that either.

    “You look nice.”  I said which wasn’t a total lie. 

    He wore a sharp suit and his overall appearance was well manicured but the first thing I noticed was his tan.  Well, the more accurate description would be his orange tinted face.  It wasn’t his worst feature though.  He had thinning hair and his poor attempt to conceal it distracted me.  The comb over barely covered the orange glow that illuminated from his head.  I wanted to ask him if he was aware of how bad his fake tan looked but I didn’t want to be rude.

    The waitress handed us menus and I focused on it intently rarely lifting my head.  He asked me what looked good and I answered; “The house salad.” 

    “What do you mean?  What does it have in it?”  He asked

    “Pine nuts and pears.”  I said.

    “I have Diverticulitis.  The pine nuts will kill me.  What other types of salad do they have?”  He asked.

   

   Having spent many years in the medical industry, I knew what Diverticulitis was so I didn’t ask any questions.  Instead, I looked for items on the menu that would not cause him to run into the bathroom.  Each time I described something on the menu he informed me that it was a trigger for his illness.  It was obvious that he wanted to talk about it but I just didn’t want to hear it.  It felt like I was having dinner with an elderly man who wanted to disclose when he had his last bowel movement.

    “It’s not that I don’t like what you’re suggesting, my body can’t handle it.”  He said before describing his last episode.

   “I was in the bathroom for hours.  I can not tell you how much pain I was in as I sat on the toilet!”  He said shaking his head from side to side.   I was speechless. 

   “Read me something else.”  He requested so I obliged.  After his next rejection I suggested that he reads the menu himself.

   “I can’t.  I left my glasses in the car.”  He explained.

    “Why don’t you get them?”  I asked

   “Because I don’t want to wear them.  They make me look old.”  He said just as the waitress approached our table to take out order. 

    “What do you suggest?”  The Attorney asked her.  She made a couple of recommendation, which he didn’t like.   She looked at me looking for assistance but I couldn’t help her. 

    “Just give me a steak.”  He said as he handed her the menu.  I ordered the salmon and a glass of wine. 

    “What do you think?  Do we make a great couple?”  He asked the waitress before she walked way,

    “Excuse me?”  She asked as her voice trembled.

    “Me and her.  What do you think?”  He asked motioning to me.  His question made her visibly uncomfortable and I felt bad for her.

    “We look great together!”  I proclaimed and reached over to touch his arm.  The waitress let out a sigh of relief before she walked away.

    “I have a boat.”  He announced while we waited for our food.

    “Really?  That’s nice.”  I said.

    “Yup, a big boat.  I’d like to take you out on it someday.”  He said with a smile. 

His teeth were shockingly white and freakishly big.  I immediately commented on the river to hide my startled reaction.

  

“I knew you’d like this place.  I take my boat on this river all the time.  You will love it!”  He said still smiling.

   “I’m sorry but I don’t really like boats.  I get sea sick easily.”  I said.

    “You’d like my boat.  It’s different from boats you have been on.”  He said.

     “Does your boat float on water?”  I asked

    “Of course.”  He replied.

I sat quietly trying to think of a way to tell him his boat wasn’t anything special without hurting his feelings.

    “Well, what do you think?  When can I take you out on my boat?”  He asked again.

     “I don’t think you’ll get me on your boat.  I’m sorry.”  I said just as the waitress brought us our dinner. 

    “You’d come on my boat wouldn’t you?”  The Attorney asked the waitress.  She just giggled and asked if we needed anything else.

   “See, girls love boats.”  He said proudly.

  

    The Attorney inspected the plate of food in front of him then proceeded to describe his illness again.  The image of The Attorney sitting on a toilet popped in my head.  I couldn’t shake that disturbing picture.  It was confirmed, I never wanted to see this guy again.

    The next hour creped by but I got through it.  He talked about his boat and told me stories that took place years ago.  At one point he raised his hand looking for a high five.  I’ve never high fived a man at dinner before but I didn’t want to keep him hanging.  As I slapped his hand I knew that I could never come back to this beautiful restaurant.

 I thanked him as he walked me to my car. 
   “It was really great meeting you.”  I said extending my hand to shake his. 

    “It was great meeting you too.”  He said leaning in to give me hug.  I didn’t want his orange skin to touch mine so I stepped back and said;  “I don’t hug on the first date.” I jumped in my car and waved to him as I drove away.

Speed Dating

     “Speed dating!!”   Were the first words I heard when I answered my phone.  “Who is this?”  I asked knowing exactly who it was. 

     “It’s Carrie.  Listen, I heard about this thing that local bars are doing called Speed dating.  We have to do it.”   Carrie said with excitement and hope in her voice. 

   “Well, actually, you have no choice.  I already signed us up.”  Carrie continued. 

I was upset at first.  Committing to something that I didn’t know anything about made me very nervous.  I didn’t want to tell Carrie that I wasn’t interested right away so I didn’t interrupt her as she explained the process. 

    

    “You know as well as I do that dating is a numbers game.  Just think; we’ll get eight dates out of the way in one night!  Who knows, we might actually meet someone we like, stranger things have been known to happen!”  Carrie said which made perfect sense to me.  She convinced me to go and I was looking forward to it.

     “So, we’re all set for Friday night.  I’ll meet you at the bar.”  Carrie said before hanging up. 

Of course I had to do my own research and found that this could actually be fun.  Meeting eight guys in one night and discreetly rejecting the ones that I never wanted to see again!  How could I say no to this?

The week flew by and before I knew it, it was Friday night.  I proceeded with my “getting ready for a date” ritual and exited my apartment.  I jumped in my car, turned on the radio and headed to downtown Hartford.  I anticipated rush hour traffic so I made sure I left early enough to beat it, which I did.

I arrived a lot earlier than Carrie so I bellied up to the bar and ordered a drink.   I sat in one of the chairs at the bar and saved the seat next to mine for Carrie.

I looked around the crowded bar and tried to figure out who was there for the main event.  I noticed a group of young girls standing by the door gushing over a table of guys close to them.  Standing next to me at the bar was a group of guys pretending not to check out all of the girls in the room.  

    

    “Is anyone sitting here?”  Asked a beautiful blond girl. 

    “I’m waiting for my friend.”  I said as I pulled the empty chair closer to me.

     “Well, can I at least order a drink?”  She asked as she leaned over the bar to get the bartender’s attention. 

The blond got her drink then I heard her say to her friends; “I’m obviously the prettiest girl here.”   She was pretty but she neglected to point out that she could very well have been the biggest bitch here too.

Carrie finally walked in and climbed onto the chair next to me.  “Do you see anyone good?”   She asked after ordering her drink.  

“Not really.  There are a lot of young guys here.”  I said while motioning to the group of guys next to us at the bar. 

   “They’re our age.”  Carrie said then sipped her drink. 

   “Our age?  Carrie I’m at least seven years older than you.”  I reminded her. 

   “Oh yeah.  I keep forgetting that.  Don’t worry, you don’t look it.”  She said reassuringly.   I kept an eye on the front door in hopes that a group of older men would walk in.

We were surrounded by so many young and gorgeous people.   I tried to ignore everyone in the room and focus on my conversation with Carrie but it was difficult.  I have to admit; I was a little intimidated by the people there.  

    

   “Is it me or is it really loud in here?”  I asked Carrie wondering if she felt as insecure as I did. 

   “It is loud.  Maybe we should mingle.”  She suggested while looking around the room.  “Ok, lets.”  I said hopping off the bar chair. 

      “Where should we start?”  I asked. 

   “I don’t know.”  Carrie replied while scoping out the room.  The two of us stood close to each other and plotted our next step as we stared into the crowd. 

     “Looks like we have some stiff competition. “  I said hoping Carrie would say out loud what I was feeling and suggest that we leave. 

   “Yeah, I’m not worried.” Carried replied before ordering a round of drinks.   It looked like I was stuck there.

  “Let’s get this thing over with.”  I said after she handed me a drink and the two of us walked over to where the event was taking place. 

The people running the event handed each of us instructions and explained the rules. 

     

   “I don’t get it.  Where do we sit? When do we move?”  Were some of the many questions I asked Carrie. 

     “I have no idea.  Let’s just follow their lead.”  Carrie said then walked away leaving me alone with many unanswered questions.

Out of nowhere a woman screamed, “Ok! READY! BEGIN!” And the sound of a bell echoed throughout the room.  Loud chatter and laughter encircled me as a hundred of smiling faces raced to their assigned seats.  I stood still for a few seconds trying to figure out what exactly I was supposed to be doing. 

    

   “Quick! Find your seat!” shouted one of the women in charge.  I wanted to ask for directions but it was too late.  Everyone was seated except for me.  I looked for the only empty seat available and hurried towards it.  I plopped down and smiled.  

    “Am I at the right place?”  I asked the pimple faced guy seated across from me.  He looked at the card in my hand and said; “You’re in the right place.” 

It took me a few seconds to get settled in.  I made sure that my handbag was secure on the back of my chair and I felt the need to wipe the condensation off of my drink glass.  By the time I was ready to ask my suitor of the next eight minutes my first candid question, the warning sound blew. 

    

   “What does that mean?”  I asked him.

   “It means the date is half way done.”  He answered.  I could tell he was irritated so I tried to joke around with him to lighten the mood, he didn’t laugh.

    “Is this your first time?”  He asked.  “Yes it is.  Could you tell?”  I asked in a flirty manner.  “Yup. You know we only have like 2 minutes left.”  He replied. Clearly my flirting was not working.   

    “Do you have a question for me?”  I asked.  

   “Nope.”  He said then looked away from me. 

  “Ok then! Let’s just sit here in silence until our time runs out.”  I suggested then crossed my arms across my chest.  I stared at his oily face until the sound of the bell prompted us to get up.

The rest of the night continued to go badly; I kept getting lost and annoyed the people who knew what they were doing.  I could tell that the guys I got paired with were not interested in me the second I sat down. 

  

   “Oh, it’s you.”  One guy said as I sat down.  “What does that mean?”  I asked.  “Nothing, sorry.  Let’s get this over with.”  He said before asking a stupid question. 

    “Can you please repeat the question?”  I asked.  He repeated his question slowly and I had to stop myself from punching him.

I was having a horrible time and to make matters worse, my buzz was wearing off.  The bell rang after the longest eight minutes of my life and I made my way to the front of the room.

   “Do I have time to get another drink?”  I asked the woman behind the megaphone.  “No, go find your next date!”   She yelled directing me to where I was supposed to be. 

I arrived at my next date and sunk in the chair.  I looked across the table at him and wanted to die, he looked like a child.  

   “I’m too sober for this.”  I said slurping down whatever vodka I had left in my glass.

   “How old are you?”  I asked this obviously young man.  “How old are you?”  He asked.  “You shouldn’t ask a lady that question.”  I said.  “You shouldn’t ask a man that question either.”  He said right back at me. 

    “I’m guessing that you are about twenty three.  Is that right?”  I asked him sternly.  I was not going to let this child talk to me like that.

   “That’s about right.  What are you, forty?”  He asked.  

   “No fucker, I’m not.”  I said.  I stood up and leaned into his face and roared; “I’m thirty two!” Then stormed away from the table and searched for Carrie.  I found her tucked away in the back of the room.

   

   “Carrie!  I give up! Meet me when you’re done. ”  I screamed in her direction.  “OK, I’m almost done here too.”  She said ”Great! You know where I’ll be!”   I said before heading to the bar.

Fish Guy

I noticed fish guy while I was in a bar with my friends one Friday night. He was about 6’ 3” tall with light brown hair and blue eyes.  I noticed him as soon as he walked in but I played it cool

“See that tall guy over there?”  I asked my friends before saying; “He’s mine.”  My friends laughed and said; “Ok weirdo, he’s all yours.” then handed me a drink from the bar.  He looked over at me and I smiled. A few minutes later, I ran my hand through my hair while twisting my neck to see if he was still looking at me, he was.  

We did the whole flirting from across the crowded bar thing for a while and eventually he appeared next to me. 

     “How’s your night going?”  He asked.  I admit his opening line was lame but I didn’t care.     

      “So far so good.”  I replied with a smile. Our intial conversation wasn’t stimulating but he was cute enough for me to want to get to know more him better. 

We started to talk about the weather but within minutes he brought up exotic fish. His eyes twinkled as he talked about the differences between salt and fresh water fish. At first, I thought he was screwing with me.  No one could possibly be as interested in fish like this guy.   I tried to participate in the conversation but I couldn’t.  I just sat in the chair, listened to him talk and sipped on my vodka soda.  I occasionally nodded my head to show him that I was interested. 

I wasn’t excited about this guy but I wasn’t repulsed either.  There had to be more to that pretty face than just fish.  He asked if he could see me again so I gave him my number. 

We met for a drink the following week.  I thought we would talk about something more exciting, we didn’t.  He talked about…you guessed it….exotic fish.

 He talked about all types of fish.  He knew what type of fish could be found in different parts of the world.  He described the corals he snorkeled in and the underwater world he visited while scuba diving. He knew the exact temperature and salt content tanks needed to be for certain fish to thrive. 

   “How do you know all of this stuff?”  I asked. 

    “I clean fish tanks for a living.”  He replied with a smile.

    “Like in a pet store?”  I asked quickly losing interest in him. 

    “No. I own a company that cleans fish tanks in offices and homes.  I also help collectors find the fish they need to complete their tanks.”  He explained which redeemed him.  I agreed to see him again.

On our next date, I was determined to take control of the conversation.  I waited until after we handed our dinner menus back to the server before I asked; “Tell me something about you that doesn’t involve your career?”  

   “I love to golf.  I was a few swings away from being a professional golfer.”  He said with a tone of disappointment.
A little voice in my head begged me not to ask why he never went pro, I wish I listened. 

    “So, what happened?”  I asked which put him back in control of the conversation.
He droned on and on about giving up his dream of being a Pro Golfer.  At one point, during his explanation, he sat quietly.  I stared and patiently waited for him to continue but he didn’t.  The silence was killing me so I did what any other girl would have done, I ordered another drink.  

I called my cousin Rissy a few days after my date.

    “He said he likes golf.”  I told her then explained his missed calling in life. “I’m getting you tickets to a golf tournament in New York, some type of Opening my husband can’t go.  Bring him!”  She suggested.  She really wanted me to give him another shot.

 The only golfer I was familiar with and playing in the tournament was Tiger Woods.  (This was way before his scandal so don’t judge me)  I asked fish guy if we could follow him.  He unenthusiastically agreed which I thought was rude considering I got us the tickets.

Watching Tiger Woods swing his club was poetic.  I wasn’t then nor am I now a big fan of golfers but there is something about watching a Tiger Woods play that impressed me.  Fish guy however, was not impressed.  He critiqued Tiger’s swing and claimed to be a better golfer. 

I turned to him at one point and said; “If you’re so much better than him then tell me why you are standing on this side of the ropes.”  We left shortly after my comment.

The ride back to Connecticut was long and quite.  I apologized a few times in the car but he kept saying; “Don’t worry about it, it’s not a big deal.”  But he continued to give me the silent treatment.  When we were close to his home, he asked if I wanted to get take out.

     “Are you sure? Aren’t you upset with me?”  I asked him still feeling bad.

     “No, I’m not mad. Just hungry.”  He said which made me feel better.

 We picked up Italian and went back to his condo.  I hadn’t been over to his place yet but I assumed he had a fish tank.  I was right; it took over most of his living room.
He situated our seats so we were facing it then dimmed the lights.  It was kind of romantic.

 While eating dinner, he described the different types of fish he had.  Still feeling bad about my comment at the tournament, I asked him a bunch of ocean question.  He gladly answered them. Things were looking better.

I listened closely about his adventures in building his fish collection.  At one point, I noticed that my soda was warm.  I wanted ice for my drink so I asked if I could get some out of the freezer.  I stood up and picked up my glass from the coffee table.  Fish guy became visibly nervous as I walked towards the kitchen. 

 He started to stutter and then explained how attached he becomes with his fish as he followed me into the kitchen. 

     “You have to understand, I really get attached to these fish.  They are like children to me.”  He said with a combination of sincerity and a tone of awkwardness in his voice. 

     “Ok, so you get attached to fish.  Why are you telling me this?”  I asked. 

He gasped before yelling out; “I just want to prepare you for what you’re about to see!”

My right hand was on the handle of the freezer door as I turned to him and asked; “Tell me fish guy, what am I about to see?” 

     He didn’t answer me.  Instead, he placed his hand close to mine on the handle and opened the door with me.  I slowly turned back to the freezer and looked in.  I was horrified.

There, in individual clear plastic bags was what seemed like hundreds of brightly-colored dead fish eyes staring vacantly back at me.  

     “What the fuck?!  Do you really have dead fish in your freezer?!”  I asked while backing away quickly and searched for an emergency exit. 

     “You don’t understand, I love these fish and when they die, I just can’t part with them.”  He said trying desperately to make his words sound normal but there was no way that he could.  

     “I’m sorry. This is a little too much for me.  It’s been a long day.  I’m going home now.”  I said as I picked up my jacket and bag. 

     “I don’t understand why you have to leave. Is it the fish thing?  You’ll get used to it, I promise.”  He pleaded. 

    “No, it’s not the dead fish thing.” I replied, obviously I lied.  “It’s been a long day and I’m tired.  Besides, I just ended a long term relationship.  I’ll need some time to ease into another one.”  I said.  I’m not sure where that explanation came from but it sounded good. 

    “Wait a minute” he replied, “who said anything about a relationship?  We’ve only gone out a few times.  We are nowhere near the relationship stage” He said with that irritating laugh thing guys do when they are saying something that makes them uncomfortable.

     “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.  I’m aware that we’ve only been on a few dates.  I…I…I just have to go,” I stammered as I bolted out the front door. 

While I drove away, it hit me: The fish guy was going to think that HE had dumped ME!  Part of me wanted to drive back to his condo to clarify who dumped who but the voice in my head screamed “RUN AND DON’T LOOK BACK!”  That’s just what I did.

My 30th Birthday-February 2001

  My supportive family and friends surrounded me the year I turned thirty.  They threw a party at a local bar a few days before my birthday and from what they tell me, I had a great time.  I received an abundance of cards, flowers and gifs days prior to my birthday and loved it all.  Everyone went out of their way to distract me from the fact that I was turning thirty and from the fact that I cancelled my wedding three months earlier.  It’s not every day a newly single girl turns thirty on Valentine’s Day.

    “You’ll be fine, it’s just a number.”  Played over and over in my head as I sat quietly in my living room the night before my actual birthday.  It was only eight pm, too early to go to bed.

I didn’t have the energy to turn on the television or walk into the kitchen to pour myself a much needed glass of wine.  Instead, I sat on my couch for hours and stared at the flickering light from the candle that I lit.

At some point I made my way to bed.  I continued to stare blankly at the ceiling in my bedroom while I attempted to fall sleep.  Every time I closed my eyes, images of my Ex-Fiancee appeared which forced me to open them again.

 I just couldn’t stop thinking about the last ten years of my life.  The need to figure out what went wrong was overwhelming.  What could I have done to avoid being a single girl tonight?  Why couldn’t I see the signs that were clearly there?  Why didn't I end our horrible relationship sooner?  It was a painful night of self reflection and at no point did I come up with any answers. 

 The alarm went off like many mornings before.  I turned to face the blaring machine to hit the button and was relieved that the night was over.  I never fell asleep.  I rolled out of bed slowly and sat on the edge of it to cry.  This was the first Birthday/Valentine’s day in the last ten years that I didn’t have anyone special to share it with. 

 I walked to the bathroom, took a long look in the mirror, like I’m sure many women do, and didn’t notice any major changes.  Other than the swelling around my dark circled eyes, my face was still looking good.  “Sweet, no wrinkles yet” I said to myself hoping it would make me laugh, it did a little.   I got through the rest of my morning rituals without shedding another tear. 

 Being sleep deprived and depressed made my short drive to work seem like it took hours.  I parked next to familiar cars and waved to the usual people. 

  “We’ll wait for you!”  Shouted a coworker as I made my way towards a group of ladies.  “Thank you.  Good morning.”  I said once I reached them. 

   “Good morning and happy birthday.”  One of the girls said and handed me a box of chocolates.  An overwhelming desire to cry came over me but I stopped myself.  I smiled and thanked her.

   “Don’t worry, it’s almost over.”  She said knowing it was the perfect thing to say.

     My work day went just as I thought.  I was greeted with “Happy Birthday” as I walked through the halls of the hospital.  I found colorful gift bags, candy and cards on my desk which made me smile.  I received floral arrangement from friends and family and two bouquets were from “A Special Friend.”

 The excitement of finding out who the “Special Friend” was entertained me.  I made a call to the florist in hopes that sender was someone special.   I was disappointed to find out that the mystery man was a creepy sales rep that came in to sell his product to the nurses I worked with. 

  “He expensed it to his company and asked that I list them as funeral flowers on the receipt.”  The florist said. 

  “That’s gross.”  I said and the florist agreed before wishing me a happy Valentine’s Day.   

  I got through the day somehow and left work feeling positive.  I drove into my apartment complex and stopped at my mailbox to collected additional birthday wishes. I pulled into my parking stall and glanced at the pile of cards on my lap. I sat in my car and flipped through all of colorful envelopes until I came across one without a return address which raised my curiosity.

 I tore the white envelope open while sitting in my idled car to solve my second mystery of the day.  My eyes shifted immediately over to the signature and noticed it was from the Ex Fiancée.  I didn’t read the crap he must have agonized over to write between the folded pieces of paper. Instead,  I let out a chuckle of disbelief, got out of my car, walked over to the dumpster and flung in his birthday wishes in.

 I entered into my apartment, closed the door behind me and took in a long deep breath.  I stood still in my kitchen for a few minutes then looked around the room.  I noticed all of the empty areas that once held my Ex’s things.  The top of the refrigerator was missing the oversized plastic jars of powder shake mixes.  I looked down and noticed that his boots were gone too.  I wondered why it took me almost three months to become aware of the fact that his things were gone. My body trembled a little as the fact that I am truly alone hit me again.  “He’s a liar and a cheater.”  I reminded myself as I walked towards my kitchen cabinets.

 I reached up for a glass and placed it on my kitchen counter next to a bottle of red wine.  I opened the bottle and poured myself a generous helping.  I then headed for the fridge, flung it open and pulled out the left over Chinese food from two nights ago.  I successfully juggled the food and wine as I walked into the living room.

I sank into my couch, turned on the television and devoured all of the leftover.  “Happy Birthday to me.”  I sang while lighting a cigarette after my birthday dinner.

I looked around my apartment and didn’t notice his missing things; instead I focused on what I added to enhance my home.  I loved the candles and new pictures I hung.  I glanced over at the beautiful floral arrangements on my kitchen table and smiled.  The sight of the red and pink heart shaped boxes of candy surrounding the flowers reminded me that I really wasn’t alone. There were many people in my life who loved me.

After dinner, I went upstairs to take a shower before bed.  I was pretty drunk by the time I walked into my bedroom and had an unexplainable urge to see my wedding dress.  I pushed through the clothes in my closet and pulled the white garment bag from the back of it.  I threw the bag on my bed and unzipped the metal zipper to expose the sparkling white and beaded beauty.  I felt the wet towel fall to my ankles as I tugged at my wedding dress.  It was caught on something inside the bag but I was determined to get it out.

 While yanking on the hanger, I flashed back to the day that I chose this dress: 

I must have gone to dozens of stores and pissed off a few sales associates before I found this one.  My mother and grandmother desperately wanted to be a part of picking out my dress which was understandable but I wasn’t sure why my father was interested too.  The four of us searched the state of Connecticut for weeks before arriving to a tiny dress shop in the middle of nowhere.

 I didn’t love the dress on the rack but at this point, it was all a numbers game.  It was the sixth dress I tried on that day and I was exhausted.  The sales associate zipped up the dress and it just felt right against my body. I inspected every angle of the dress through the multi panel mirror looking for a flaw, there weren’t any. “I think this is the one.”  I whispered to the fatigued woman helping me. 

 I walked into the waiting area of the dressing room and stared at myself in the additional mirrors, waiting for a reaction from my family.  No one said a word.

   “Well, what do you think?”  I asked hoping to hear something, anything.  Still silence.  I looked in their direction through the mirror and noticed that they were all crying.  I focused intently on my father.  The sight of his tears streaming down his face made me feel like a little girl again looking for his approval and I got it.  It was confirmed, this puffy white mound of material was the “one”. 

  Tonight, I look at this over priced garment and realized that I spent more time looking for the perfect dress than I did looking for the perfect husband.  “What the hell” I said as I stepped into my dress. Once it was on, I twirled around a few times until I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror. “Damn I look beautiful” I said out loud. 

  I ran downstairs while wearing my dress for more wine.  I was disappointed that no one was over to see how stunning I looked.  But, on the other hand, I was glad that no one was here to see this pathetic display of self pity;  sitting on my kitchen counter wearing my wedding dress, drinking wine from the bottle and holding a cigarette between my fingers.  Nice.

I caught my reflection again in the kitchen window.  “I do look pretty, pretty sad.”  I said out loud then laughed uncontrollably.  It was a stupid joke but it made me feel a lot better.  In that crazy moment; everything made sense.  I wasn’t just drunk, I was actually happy.  I didn’t have to be in a relationship with someone who scared me.  I didn't have to walk on eggshells to avoid arguments everyday of my life.  I didn't have to find out he was unfaithful. 

Being alone is much better than being in a bad relationship.

 “I’m free!”  I shouted.

I couldn’t believe that I was depressed only a few hours ago.  My smoked filled living room felt so open and spacious.  I knew right then and there that there was much more to me and to my life than getting married.  I knew that I was going to be going to be just fine. I also knew that I was going to be extremely hung over in the morning. 

I was right.  I was hung over the next morning but still very optimistic.  I looked forward to dating again but this time I promised myself to be in total control.  I will weed through the losers and date only mature men; I heard that they do exist.  How difficult could it really be to date?

I couldn’t wait to get out into the dating world to find out!

My motivation

I started to write down stories from my dating life when I was thirty eight.  It wasn’t my idea; everyone I talked to suggested it.

I am the token single girl in my group of friends but I didn’t always hold this title.  I was involved and even engaged in my twenties.   My goal was to be married by the time I was thirty and have my first child at thirty one.  It looked like I was going to achieve this goal when I got engaged at twenty eight.  It wasn’t until a year later and six months prior to my wedding that I realized that I couldn’t go through with it.  I just couldn’t picture spending the rest of my life with an alcoholic.

Canceling the wedding wasn’t easy but I never regretted doing it.

I knew that I was going to date a few rebound guys before meeting the right one.  I also knew that I was a good catch so it wouldn’t take me long to find a good guy.  I was thirty and ready to date, how difficult could it be?

Lots of changes took place in my early thirties.  I bought a condo and moved to a new town in Connecticut.  I made new friends and remained close to the few people who didn’t judge me.   “You’ll find him in no time!”  I heard over and over again from many people.  These optimistic and loving people were wrong.  Before I knew it, I was in my mid thirties and still single.

My friends wanted to hear all about my dates.  I didn’t want to disappoint them so I only shared my good dates which weren’t many.  The sad truth is that a few of my dates didn’t go smoothly.  Actually, a lot of my dates were downright crazy.   A man cut up my dinner into bite size pieces for me in a restaurant and another kept hundreds of dead tropical fish in his freezer.  Like I said, some were crazy.  I couldn’t imagine this happening to another woman.   I thought for sure I was giving off a weird vibe that make men behave offensively.

I analyzed my bad dates to figure out where it all went wrong.  I was too embarrassed to talk about them with anyone so I struggled with my little secret alone.  My friends frequently asked who I was dating and I would down play the craziness.   After a series of bad date, I told my friends that I was taking a break.  

After months of no dating stories, my fellow single friends began to worry about me.  They asked probing questions until I broke down.  I cautiously started to tell them about the disastrous events.  My friends wanted examples so I shared a few of my disturbing stories.  I anticipated pity or words of encouragement.  What I got instead was laughter and stories of their own bad dates.  It was such a relief knowing that I wasn’t alone; many people have been on a bad date!

I needed to know why I’ve had so many bad for so many years.  I decided to discuss this with my therapist.   She usually sat quietly while I described a date and then we analyzed it together.  This went on for months.

During one of my sessions, she struggled to stay professional.  I looked at her as I told her that my last date started crying during dinner in a busy restaurant.  She couldn’t help herself; she burst out laughing.  After she collected herself, she turned to me and said; “You have to write down all of these stories and have them published.  I haven’t met anyone who has this many hilarious dating stories.  You have to share them.”  

So, I thought about it and decided that she was right; I have to share my experiences.   What you are about to read are the dating memoirs of a forty year old woman...