...the dating pool, that is.
I don't know if it's some special brand of masochism or the more unlikely possibility that I have some endless wellspring of hope, but I just can't seem to stay out of the dating game.
This time I went back to Match.com--where I have had the most luck in the past. I'd like to say that I didn't resort to online dating, but after trying to do it the old-fashioned way for nearly two years with no results, I don't know what the viable alternative is.
The great thing about Match.com is that I always get a lot of action right away--AND you get to browse the merchandise without them shoving the dudes THEY think you SHOULD like down your virtual throat.
I've been on for about six weeks, have met four guys, have seen two of them more than once, and one of them more than twice. I am proud to say that I've broadened my horizons and met both a short (same height as me) guy and a dude with a big truck. The short guy was a no-go, but the truck (much to my surprise) is holding his own.
However, I seem to have clung to other old habits--like prematurely stating my complete lack of expectation that this relationship will turn into anything earth-shattering. I don't know why, but I've been told that not only is that ridiculous, but also kind of defeats the whole purpose behind dating in the first place.
I don't know where my reluctance to fully participate comes from, but it is finely honed and quite deeply rooted. Obviously I must, on some level, want a long-lasting, life-sharing "relationship," but I don't regularly, or on a conscious level, recognize or nurture that desire.
I think part of the problem is that I don't feel like I have a missing piece that I'm trying to find. I don't feel like peanut butter without jelly or pepper without salt or unicorns without glitter. I feel mostly just fine--and horribly comfortable and set in my ways. I love being home alone. I love coming home from work and putting on my jammies and rubbing my eyes until I look more like a raccoon than a girl and not caring because no one is going to see me. I love having the bed all to myself. I love being selfish (well, as selfish as a mom can be).
But I guess I don't love it enough to not sometimes hanker for those benefits (and burdens) of engaging in a relationship.
So, much to all of our dismay, here I am again. I just hope it's at least entertaining!