I haven’t blogged in a while but here we go. I’ve been on the market for so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to date. Then again, does anyone date? When I was in my twenties, I just ended up with men who were in my fun circle. We never really dated but it worked until it didn’t.
Fast forward to my forties. Fortunately for me, I’ve held on to my girlish charms. The old adage “black don’t crack,” holds true with me. Thanks mom! Wink, wink. Anywho, after a decade or more of dating hiatus, my poker buddy forced me away from Netflix to be an active senior.
I’ve always stood by the don’t shit where you eat philosophy. However, my poker buddy convinced me to go out with this dude from work. He was short, bald and not even close to my type. (Shut up bestie!)
Anyway, he opened and closed my doors, he was generous, and was patient. We dated for a strong three months then he changed. Maybe it changed when I saw him in the nude and all I’ll say is that I’m not good at hiding feelings. My face rats me out every time. He had potential for good things.
Two weeks after, I’m not sure what happened to little man but he’s gone and didn’t offer up an explanation. I didn’t press because I guess at 40, we just don’t give a (you know what). NEXT!
Now I’m back trying to get put myself out there by playing poker and socializing. Unfortunately, most of the men who approach me in poker leagues are long time members of the AARP or have one more summer and one more winter. A small fraction of the other men could be my sons, married and on the prowl or maybe on some sort of government watchlist.
I play poker with the same revolving crew of people. The most interesting one I’ll call him Fred Durst because of his resemblance to the singer. (No mother, not the man who killed his wives.) He’s a white dude who probably grew up in the hood. He’s very funny and down to earth. I’m relatively interested but cautious.
Fred Durst calls me Queen every chance he gets and asks me out every chance he gets. I of course turn him down because, he’s not my type. (Jen! Don’t go there.) At the end of the night he walks me out and kisses the back of my hand. Then he disappeared.
He returned after about a six month hiatus because he was “working.” I think he was in jail? But thinking like that is probably why I’m still single. Moving right along, Fred sat at the table next to me. He flirted with me and winked every time our eyes met. I thought to myself, maybe I’ll give him a chance.
Soon we’re down to the final table where we could have an actual conversation. He was sweet but then he asked, “what’s up?”
I said “I’m just trying to get some points and you?”
“I’m tryna get wit you. What’s your safe word?”
Me “<insert big eyes emoji>”
Him, “my safe word is… I can’t remember because I had an out of body experience. What in the Kim Kardashian and R Kelly is going on here? You haven’t asked me out on a proper date yet and I was all on board unil you got all Christian Grey on me. In a way I am glad that he let his freak flag fly up front. I know we are grown and life is short but I want romance. Well Limp Bizkit, I must pass on your twelve inch tongue and French tickler.
I guess romance dead? And dating a thing of the past? Is anyone getting married or are we just in long term free agent type relationships? Me thinks I’ll just stick with Netflix and in my retirement age co-habitate with my sister.