Singletown, again.

Right, so I may be looking for a rebound, but I’m not sure. At my age, rebounds seem as if they’d be just as exhausting as an all-out relationship. I think the last relationship I was in was kind of a rebound, one that lasted seven years. I’d been long unable to let go of someone else, even while I was falling in love with him. I guess it was unfair on him, but there were other issues I couldn’t shake. Other issues he couldn’t shake.

Other issues neither of us could shake.

Even still, no matter what I do, no matter what happens, with whom it is, how it came to be, I always wind up being the breakup-ee rather than the breakupper.

(Breakupper. That sounds like a marketable illegal substance. No stealing. Trademark, me. Copyright, me. My idea, mofo.)

I’m not ready to be broken up with. I’m too tired.

That aside though, I really don’t want to be alone anymore. I thought I did for a while. It’s been nice having my weekends relatively free, even though they’re never really all that free because I keep taking home anywhere from 50-150 papers to grade (the number depending on the kind of mood I was in during my office hours and the kind of mood and drink I was in during hours after work). The loneliness though, it’s searing. It hurts. He was my lover and friend, and frankly, the loss of his friendship hurts more because losing a lover, to me, as I’ve aged, now seems old toast. Done. Stale. Chewed rawhide.

Losing a friend due to having also been a lover. That’s not what it’s all about, is it? I always thought it was about companionship, really. It’s what we seem to long for when we’re older. That reliable comfort. Someone to do things with, someone to talk to when everything grows tiresome.

Boy, howdy, does it get tiresome the older we get.

Still, I’m at the point in my life when it’s time to start thinking about what’s next. I’m in the primary generation (X) of parents now, some grandparents, and most of whom are settled into whatever it is they believe they’re supposed to be doing…

With the 2.5 kids, big house, tedious (but safe) career, PTA meetings, backyard BBQs, Saturday morning yoga, Sunday night football, mommy-and-me events and playdates (or whatever that shit is), Starbucks runs, after-school activities, fixed-rate mortgage loans, SUVs with stick figure family bumper stickers, plus-one holiday parties, family road trips, Target shopathons, penciled-in sexy time, last minute birthday plans, occasional dinners at Applebee’s, family movie night, pancakes for breakfast, toss the ol’ ball around, afternoon yardwork, etc. etc.

I don’t want all that, but I now know I want someone around to help fill in the gaps.

Publishing endeavors have gone sour. Have fizzled. Again, my once best friend isn’t around to talk to about any of it, and, again, I hate that even more than I hate the thought of not having him around to be naked in bed with, really. There’s that loss of companionship. I’m empty.

As much as I want That, I’m still torn about getting back to find That, the ever-elusive “The One.” I don’t believe in The One though. I’ve had 4 supposed/mistaken “One’s” and a number of halves, so technically, I could be really wanting an End One, even if he’s actually The Eleventh or The Twelfth.

(I don’t do math. It shows, doesn’t it?)

My profile is active now on (ugh) two of the “better” dating sites, and I’d forgotten how aggravating it is. I realize the odds, generally speaking, are better for women simply because we’re more inclined to get responses, especially when we’ve a recent photo up AND have that annoying notification for all in the vicinity that we’ve been online recently. Even still, the responses are either, for the most part, so devoid of personality or so bombastic in a mass-sent (copy-and-paste) display of pickup line “seduction.” All of it serves to further remind me (and other women, I’m sure) that motives are definitely in contrast to what they indicate on their profiles, which is why dating sites—never mind dating itself—is one, giant, spin-of-the-wheel gamble.

I met the guy, seven year romantic-fling/whatever the hell we had, online, and he’d been one of the very few who’d at least engaged in interesting, adult conversation. He’d not been one who’d led with something like any one of the following (mangled language and all)…

1. Hello there u care 2chat sometime
2. Hi! I’m in town for a little while and thought it might be fun to…
3. Heyyyyyy
4. Hiiiiii beautiful
5. Hey there. How are you today. Hope your having a great day!
6. Hi my name is _____ i like u tex me here or tex me at (XXX) XXX-XXX
7. Nice…are you close?
8. Pretty sexy
9. HOW ARE YOU DOING TODAY?
10. Hey how are u doin…? It says were more then Compatible. So we’ll argue like not even HALF of the time!
11. Hey there what’s up can we talk some
12. HYD Gorgeous 😉
13. Gdm (To which I’d the urge to reply, “WTF?”)
14. Hi…Surprise 🙂
15. Hello, hope is my baby
16. hi could you be different and maybe talk to me because it seems like nobody on this site will talk to me I don’t know why lol

And all of that is just a small sampling of what I had in my inboxes thus far over the past couple of weeks since I’ve been back at it. All of that and I’ve not even officially become a paying subscriber. All of that and it’s exhausting just wading through it.

This is how my 2017 ends and my 2018 begins.

 

I’m ever in need of a nap.