View: https://medium.com/heart-affairs/i-keep-getting-stung-by-bumble-b409a7907efe
LMFAO yeah I'm sure that was the issue.
Friend-zoned by elder chad while he runs off with a younger woman, jfl.
The wall is real.
Even senior citizens will never give up on chad hunting.
FULL ARTICLE:
My ex-husband started dating someone within a month of our divorce. One month. The man who was incapable of having an intimate relationship with me found someone in a month.
And here I sit alone after almost five years of searching and more first dates than I care to reveal. I’ll only say the number is higher than my age (57) and lower than 100.
I know part of the problem is timing.
I’ve met some good men who were fresh out of a divorce. I felt sadness and pain lurking. During this time frame, there’s still so much to process.
I know. I was once in that space. I thought I was ready to date too, but I wasn’t. I desperately wanted what I didn’t have and clambered hard to get it.
But that wasn’t the time for me to be dating. That was the time for healing. The men I met right after the ink on my divorce had dried must have sensed my sadness and desperation and backed away. Understandable. I back away now when I sense those things too.
During my adventures in dating, I’ve met so many “no’s”. So many who I determined weren’t a good match for me. So many who I liked and wanted to see again but they didn’t feel the same way about me.
Many whose eyes glazed over or changed the subject quickly when I told them I write personal essays.
There were a few where our ages were too far apart or the distance between us too great. One where I didn’t feel safe with his reckless actions and he ended up tumbling down a hill and into a bed in the ICU. Seriously. Worst first date story ever.
There was one who said he scheduled a reservation to meet for dinner, but he didn’t end up following through and never showed up. On a cold winter night, I waited at the restaurant for nothing.
Then there was the one whose shoulders drooped the moment he saw me. I hadn’t even said hello. To think that I sat and had a drink with him makes me scratch my head. If that happened today, I’d say, “Clearly you’re disappointed. I’m heading home for a cup of hot chamomile tea and some time at my keyboard.”
I’ve been okay with most of the nos. I may feel a small disappointing ouch but overall nothing too painful. If a guy doesn’t think I’m right for him I’ve learned to accept that. And with others, I’m certain I dodged a few bullets.
Then there are the “no’s” that stung.
One was a published author. He read my entire blog and asked if I’d ever considered writing a book. I swooned. To know that someone read my words and still wanted to get to know me touched my heart. We met and dated for about 2 months. Things felt comfortable and easy between us.
Then he told me he’d stepped into dating too early. He was a widower and realized he hadn’t yet recovered from his wife’s passing. He had a fence around his heart. I understood and wasn’t surprised but it still stung. He’s the only one I’ve met so far who I thought might fit well within my tight-knit family. We parted as friends.
Another stinger was one with whom we could talk about all kinds of topics even the hot-button ones like sex and money. We hit the ground running with deep conversations. We went for hikes and he packed warm soup and snacks for us. He was kind, and considerate and gave amazing backrubs.
However, it was a good thing we could talk about money because before too long we determined that our values around it didn’t align and were irreconcilable. Yet another one where we parted as friends.
There have been other stingers in the mix but the most recent one bit me the hardest.
He lived about 69 miles away and because I have a thing with 6s and 9s I figured this might be the one. Whenever those numbers show up with someone, a significant experience takes place. I view them as good signs.
Our texts were fun and flirty. We have a similar irreverent sense of humor. We both like hiking and biking. Sex is important to both of us. We talked on the phone and the time flew by. The conversation flowed easily. It felt like a win.
We hadn’t been able to coordinate a time to meet because I’ve had a few things still on my plate since my mom fell down a flight of stairs and he has a son who’s with him part-time. It was also the holidays.
A week or so ago I joked that I was beginning to think we may never actually meet. Turns out my hunch was correct. With a tentative sound in his voice, he said he’d met someone else. It’d progressed faster than he thought it would and now he didn’t feel right meeting me. He asked if we could stay friends because he thought I was incredible and easy to talk to. He wanted to stay in contact. I was speechless. Stung once again.
At first, I agreed to stay friends. I enjoyed our conversations. But a day or so later I changed my mind. I asked him to keep me posted if it doesn’t work out with this other woman but I’m not going to be the sidekick while she gets the relationship. It’d just be hanging on hoping for more when it may never happen.
A dear wise friend keeps telling me to ditch dating apps. According to him, all I need to do is be my authentic self out there in the world. Just shine my light and the right guy will find me.
When I was young I certainly felt I had this kind of power. Heads turned and I could feel eyes on me. This overwhelmed me. I was uncomfortable with my curves. I was unsure how to handle the looks I received and the notes guys sent to me in school. I didn’t know how to react to their attention and I often clammed up.
How I wish I could harness that power now. As a 57-year-old I walk through life largely unnoticed. I wear a cloak of invisibility. I gather very little attention from the eyes of males.
I certainly don’t go out in the world wearing ratty sweats and unkept hair but I also don’t slip on strappy sandals and sassy low-cut tops when I peruse the aisles of the grocery store. I’m much more confident and comfortable with myself and my body but I don’t flaunt it. Yet I seem to have lost the ability to capture anyone’s eye. Maybe I need to up my game.
So I don’t quite believe my friend. I have no idea how this mysterious man might find me. I’m not one to hang out at bars and I can’t quite imagine that someone will begin a conversation as we both reach for that perfect head of cauliflower in the bin at Target.
So I download the app once again. I craft a witty profile that reflects who I am. I upload good photos. I swipe and chat. I set up dates. I put on a little make-up. I poof my hair a bit. Dab on a pleasant scent. Slip into a nice sweater and wrangle myself into a pair of ass-enhancing jeans. I soldier on.
I keep coming back and trying because I continue to have hope. Even when I feel like I’ve hit the bottom of my hope barrel somehow I manage to draw up a few more cupfuls. I want to be in a relationship so I keep trying.
With every no, with each almost but not quite right, with every I just met someone and it’s going well so I can’t meet you I tell myself I’m getting closer to the one where the timing will be right. To the one whose life meshes well with mine. To the one with whom we’ll both say yes.
kasey sparks
, © 2024
And here I sit alone after almost five years of searching and more first dates than I care to reveal. I’ll only say the number is higher than my age (57) and lower than 100.
I know part of the problem is timing.
I’ve met some good men who were fresh out of a divorce. I felt sadness and pain lurking. During this time frame, there’s still so much to process.
I know. I was once in that space. I thought I was ready to date too, but I wasn’t. I desperately wanted what I didn’t have and clambered hard to get it.
But that wasn’t the time for me to be dating. That was the time for healing. The men I met right after the ink on my divorce had dried must have sensed my sadness and desperation and backed away. Understandable. I back away now when I sense those things too.
During my adventures in dating, I’ve met so many “no’s”. So many who I determined weren’t a good match for me. So many who I liked and wanted to see again but they didn’t feel the same way about me.
Many whose eyes glazed over or changed the subject quickly when I told them I write personal essays.
There were a few where our ages were too far apart or the distance between us too great. One where I didn’t feel safe with his reckless actions and he ended up tumbling down a hill and into a bed in the ICU. Seriously. Worst first date story ever.
There was one who said he scheduled a reservation to meet for dinner, but he didn’t end up following through and never showed up. On a cold winter night, I waited at the restaurant for nothing.
Then there was the one whose shoulders drooped the moment he saw me. I hadn’t even said hello. To think that I sat and had a drink with him makes me scratch my head. If that happened today, I’d say, “Clearly you’re disappointed. I’m heading home for a cup of hot chamomile tea and some time at my keyboard.”
I’ve been okay with most of the nos. I may feel a small disappointing ouch but overall nothing too painful. If a guy doesn’t think I’m right for him I’ve learned to accept that. And with others, I’m certain I dodged a few bullets.
Then there are the “no’s” that stung.
One was a published author. He read my entire blog and asked if I’d ever considered writing a book. I swooned. To know that someone read my words and still wanted to get to know me touched my heart. We met and dated for about 2 months. Things felt comfortable and easy between us.
Then he told me he’d stepped into dating too early. He was a widower and realized he hadn’t yet recovered from his wife’s passing. He had a fence around his heart. I understood and wasn’t surprised but it still stung. He’s the only one I’ve met so far who I thought might fit well within my tight-knit family. We parted as friends.
Another stinger was one with whom we could talk about all kinds of topics even the hot-button ones like sex and money. We hit the ground running with deep conversations. We went for hikes and he packed warm soup and snacks for us. He was kind, and considerate and gave amazing backrubs.
However, it was a good thing we could talk about money because before too long we determined that our values around it didn’t align and were irreconcilable. Yet another one where we parted as friends.
There have been other stingers in the mix but the most recent one bit me the hardest.
He lived about 69 miles away and because I have a thing with 6s and 9s I figured this might be the one. Whenever those numbers show up with someone, a significant experience takes place. I view them as good signs.
Our texts were fun and flirty. We have a similar irreverent sense of humor. We both like hiking and biking. Sex is important to both of us. We talked on the phone and the time flew by. The conversation flowed easily. It felt like a win.
We hadn’t been able to coordinate a time to meet because I’ve had a few things still on my plate since my mom fell down a flight of stairs and he has a son who’s with him part-time. It was also the holidays.
A week or so ago I joked that I was beginning to think we may never actually meet. Turns out my hunch was correct. With a tentative sound in his voice, he said he’d met someone else. It’d progressed faster than he thought it would and now he didn’t feel right meeting me. He asked if we could stay friends because he thought I was incredible and easy to talk to. He wanted to stay in contact. I was speechless. Stung once again.
At first, I agreed to stay friends. I enjoyed our conversations. But a day or so later I changed my mind. I asked him to keep me posted if it doesn’t work out with this other woman but I’m not going to be the sidekick while she gets the relationship. It’d just be hanging on hoping for more when it may never happen.
A dear wise friend keeps telling me to ditch dating apps. According to him, all I need to do is be my authentic self out there in the world. Just shine my light and the right guy will find me.
When I was young I certainly felt I had this kind of power. Heads turned and I could feel eyes on me. This overwhelmed me. I was uncomfortable with my curves. I was unsure how to handle the looks I received and the notes guys sent to me in school. I didn’t know how to react to their attention and I often clammed up.
How I wish I could harness that power now. As a 57-year-old I walk through life largely unnoticed. I wear a cloak of invisibility. I gather very little attention from the eyes of males.
I certainly don’t go out in the world wearing ratty sweats and unkept hair but I also don’t slip on strappy sandals and sassy low-cut tops when I peruse the aisles of the grocery store. I’m much more confident and comfortable with myself and my body but I don’t flaunt it. Yet I seem to have lost the ability to capture anyone’s eye. Maybe I need to up my game.
So I don’t quite believe my friend. I have no idea how this mysterious man might find me. I’m not one to hang out at bars and I can’t quite imagine that someone will begin a conversation as we both reach for that perfect head of cauliflower in the bin at Target.
So I download the app once again. I craft a witty profile that reflects who I am. I upload good photos. I swipe and chat. I set up dates. I put on a little make-up. I poof my hair a bit. Dab on a pleasant scent. Slip into a nice sweater and wrangle myself into a pair of ass-enhancing jeans. I soldier on.
I keep coming back and trying because I continue to have hope. Even when I feel like I’ve hit the bottom of my hope barrel somehow I manage to draw up a few more cupfuls. I want to be in a relationship so I keep trying.
With every no, with each almost but not quite right, with every I just met someone and it’s going well so I can’t meet you I tell myself I’m getting closer to the one where the timing will be right. To the one whose life meshes well with mine. To the one with whom we’ll both say yes.
kasey sparks
, © 2024
