A Single Gal’s Saturday Night: A Date, Wine, Depression & a Cat Lady Future

After spending an unhealthy but entertaining amount of time with my cat and my cat’s cat, I decided to take the plunge and finally went on a date this weekend.  I met a man from match.com for lunch.  It was an interesting date.  By interesting of course I mean it was depressing and by depressing of course I mean I left feeling depressed.

I am 45, have been divorced for 15 years, and my last relationship ended over 2 years ago.  I like to think I’m okay alone, but let’s get real, I’m not.  I hate being alone.  I had a bad date today. Nothing bad happened, it was just a bad date.  I left feeling unclear about exactly how I am supposed to find what it is I am looking for.

We should have had countless things to talk about.  We are both Jewish, both grew up in Canada, are both single parents, both love hockey, both write, and both love sushi.  There was so much for us to talk about yet we sat there with nothing to say.  It was like pulling teeth.  In fact, getting a tooth pulled would have been less painful.

He did not have much to say and when he did speak I wanted to kill myself.  A highlight:  Him:  Do you have any pets?  Me:  I have cats.  Him:  I like cats.  Me:  I love my cats.  Him:  Do they come to you when you are having sex because they smell pheromones?  Important to note I am only able to share because I am home on my second glass of wine.

It is Saturday night, at almost 7:00, and I am home, drinking red wine, with my cats sitting close by and looking at me with a look of judgment that says, ”Wow!  She is home on a Saturday night. Again.”  It’s a very sad day when your cats feel sorry for you.  Even sadder days are when you think your cats are actually feeling sorry for you.  I’m pouring another glass.

I am sitting at home wondering what my next move should be. Do I take a break and stop dating?  Do I broaden my horizons and date men that are not Jewish, since clearly the Jewish thing is not working for me?  Do I order Chinese food, finish off the bottle, take a bath and wash away the day so tomorrow I can start over and not give up?

I’m sure it’s just as hard for men.  It’s not about men being the problem here.  I don’t even think it’s about dating in general.  I like dating.  Not the act itself, but the idea that you could be going to meet a stranger that will be your beshert is lovely.  There is a moment, when you are waiting to meet him, right before the nausea comes, that you have hope.

I’ve always been able to come out of a bad date with a sense of humor and know that the next one will be better.  The thing is that the next one was not better.  I am not losing my sense of humor, thank God, but I worry that I am losing my hope.  When you drive home from a date and stop to get a bottle of wine on the way, there is a problem.

Sidebar:  My kid is out for dinner with his dad and he just excused himself, went outside, and called me to say he loved me and was hoping my weekend was going well.  We spoke for a quick minute and he went back to dinner while I went back to my wine.  He is a brilliant light in my life and he is the reason I need to keep my standards high and not give up.

My child is remarkable and having him in my life is a blessing, so I need to be selective about who gets to share that blessing.  There is a great Jewish guy out there for me, who is sitting home tonight, after a bad date, wondering what the hell he is going to do now, and wondering if he will ever meet anyone worthy of a second date.  I hope to meet that man.

In a perfect world I will meet him before I have 18 cats because at that point I would understand if he was not interested in me.  Chicks are not my thing which is too bad because chicks hit on me all the time.  Prisoners dig me too but there is no prison close enough for regular visits. Does cutting out chicks and guys in jail change the number of chances I have at love?

Maybe I need to change the age range of men I will date.  It is currently 40-55.  Maybe I need to go both younger and older.  The thing is, old people skin is not sexy so dating older is hard because I want to have a sexual relationship and that would kill it, and younger is not cool because to the young guy I am the old skin.  Dating at this stage of life sucks.

I don’t feel old, or look old, but the truth is at 45, especially in a town like LA, I am old.  For 60 year old men who have 25 year old girlfriends, I’m a hag.  When you date men who are much younger then you are a cougar.  When you are a middle aged woman looking for love, you are a hag, which is a couple of years, and a couple of cats away from being a spinster.

It is now 9:00 and I got an email from a man on match.com that based on our profiles, I did not have anything in common with.  I wrote to thank him for the interest, but that I did not think we were a match.  He immediately wrote me back to ask why.  Really?  Am I now supposed to justify why I’m not interested?  Dear Lord make it stop.

And so is the life of a 45 year old, single, Jewish mother with cats.  Luckily my cats, my faith, and my age do not define me.  If I am defined by my heart, and what my child thinks of me, then I am golden.  I am blessed and with patience I will find what I am looking for.  Life is grand, motherhood is perfection, and the best thing I can do for myself is keep the faith.

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