Nobody ever gets to read your diary. But nobody ever gets to read your blog either (and why should they?). Why should anyone WANT anyone else to read their blog? Do we all want lots of other people to realise how special we are? In that case, better make it interesting. Of course, if you read MY blog because it’s so interesting, I’ll have to read yours because otherwise I’d be a self obsessed narcissist (or is that a tautology?). But only if it’s full of sex and passion and deep thoughts, and doesn’t have too many grammatical errors.
So Almost the ONe has progressed a bit. I think perhaps he needs a new name (after three years and some months). Like The Incumbent, or maybe the Sitting Member (ie someone who got elected some time ago and is quite likely to be re elected indefinitely unless he does something really awful). We had a big fight a while ago, he wouldn’t move in and I said that was it then. It lasted about five weeks I think, quite a good long time, then I realised that I couldn’t find another guy like him (couldn’t find another guy at all actually, at least not in five weeks), He on the other hand, despite being 52, managed to find at least two women (other than the regular set he has on tap) who wanted to sleep with/have a relationship with him. Anyway we decided we missed each other and he said he’d ‘commit’ (although still not move in), and that was kind of good enough. I’m sure it’s in the Bible of Dating (otherwise known as He’s Just Not That Into You) that if he doesn’t want to move in, marry you or at least buy you a fat engagement ring, you should show him the door. We did get as far as the Ring exchange, but he explained directly after buying it (not that I needed to be told) that it didn’t mean we were engaged or anything (so not to get my hopes up!).
Which makes you think. It’s a wild world out there, dating wise, when you’re over 47. That’s one thing. I met a few men from the internet, but they were all either horribly plain or a bit boring, or both. And even so, they weren’t interested. Overall I got the impression, from the advances which were made, that men in general at this age see themselves as precious prizes, wanted by all but available to only a few. Of course, this was only five weeks’ worth, if I’d stuck it out longer I might have encountered some interest and admiration for my mature charms. And if I had met some attractive man who found me ditto, maybe I wouldn’t have gone hurrying back to the Incumbent. On his side, the ladies he met didn’t interest him that much either, though he did sleep with one of them (well, he had to get his rocks off somehow). Otherwise he wouldn’t have gone back to moi.
That’s not to say that we don’t love each other, a lot. Lots and lots. Just that I find him kind of exasperating at times – though incredibly sweet, dear, talented and intelligent.
So now we’re on again and it looks (well it looked last time too for a while) like we’re more or less solid. I guess I”m getting used to having low expectations in some areas, and getting better at letting the exasperating bits slide off.
Maybe there should be a book about REAL dating when you’re fifty (or so), for women. What it’s really like to have 50 year old guys ignore you because you’re too ancient (but they’re not), and to have to consider men with sun ravaged faces and wrinkly necks (ditto us, mostly), and be hit on by young guys who think we’ll jump into bed with anything because we’re too old to be fussy, and meet guys who say things like ‘you’re a bit rough round the edges’ and try to take you car-yard shopping in lieu of a coffee (yes really). ARe there any fifty year olds out there? Do you date? Should you be on fail.org (as my son says)? Or do you conquer all before you? Or do you really not give a shit?