No More Fairytales?

I never believed in love at first sight. Lust, yes. Most definitely. But not love. Love requires shared experiences, memories, understanding and being understood. These things don’t happen instantaneously. At least I’ve never thought so. However, I have believed in Happily Ever After. Or I did. The thing about dating after 40 is that I don’t have my whole life ahead of me anymore. I certainly have a life ahead, I’m not dead. But I have life behind me too. I’ve been married, I’ve had my heart broken, I’ve paid for braces for my teenager. You know, adult things that aren’t always fun. It kind of takes the shine off the hope that I had when I was younger.

I hate to think I don’t have the same hope, but I know I’m more jaded than I was. I had drinks with a couple of girlfriends recently, one of whom is very young and asked her new boyfriend to meet us. She is 21, he is 39. It sounds oogy, but I tried not to judge. We find love where we find it, who am I to say where that is? When the check came, he made sure to get his separately. This was a flag for me. It wasn’t so much about the money, but it kind of was. He couldn’t pay just a few dollars for her? And then he started reminding her of how many times he’s made her dinner, like he’s been keeping score in his head. Keeping score is never good. Suddenly I understood why he dates much younger women. There was this little voice in my head saying, “Uh huh, I told you so.”

There are also walls coming up. I feel it. These days I’m the one that walks away first. I’m guarded around men. I’m guarded for my friends. I try not to be. I’ve even said, “No, not him. He’s not that guy. He’s good.” And then he’s not. Again.  I don’t want to be one of those women that doesn’t trust men just because they’re men. It’s getting harder though. I mean, a girl can only kiss so many frogs before she gets discouraged.

I don’t know. I do have some hope that The One is out there. The One for me. I just hope I recognize him when I see him.

 

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~ by Kat on October 18, 2011.

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