Dating Dead End or I Am Out of Shampoo

 Have I reached a dreaded dating dead end? Could it be? Am I ready?  Admit I have bad date battle fatigue? Wail "I surrender" to the Gods of Bad Dates?  Have I reached my dating limit?  Do you only get x amount of good ones in a lifetime?  I had optimistically decided to try Match.com again after watching one of their cheerful commercials about how happiness is just a click away and also after 2 glasses of wine and an Advil PM.  I felt ready and prepared.  I was certain I had developed an internet dating immune system by virtue of previous exposure. I was Super Dater capable of fending off  liars, commitment phobes and the politically incorrect.  I had become a veteran of profile reading.  No ten year old pictures, prom photos or baseball hats hiding male patterned baldness could get passed my x-ray vision. Bad grammar and misspellings were banished, as I was (ta da) an English major.  No profile that read as if lifted from a romance novel would get a passing grade unless the correct author was footnoted.  I was ready.

I lied.  I was not ready regardless of my magical thinking about "immunity" or super powers.  I listened to my friend Ron,"Gail, read the profiles carefully and exchange multiple emails, don't rush into a date."  And my friend Marc "Just go."  I went both ways.  I believe however, that these dates are decided in the first 11 seconds as everyone is looking for instant chemistry.  What the f**k is chemistry over 55?  Has anyone looked in a mirror lately?  No one looks hot.  They may look nice,  decent, or not homeless but not HOT.  I hope for a version of, "attractive for his age," taller than I am, and not in need of stomach stapling.  I am a realist and have covered all my mirrors.

My first date back on the front lines I think had assumed another identity like "The Talented Mr. Ripley." He didn't order a drink as he had just come from a colonoscopy, which I categorize as too much information and slightly nauseating.  His stories of unbridled wealth and the beautiful younger ex-wife who reaped the rewards of their divorce were trumped by his second ex wife whose ballerina daughter he supported and went unappreciated. I might have dozed off.  He also had no bottom teeth.  I admit I spent a lot of time staring at his mouth. I don't know anyone without teeth except my 99yr old Mother who at least has dentures. Did a judge deny him money for teeth in lieu of alimony payments?  His stories just didn't add up and I felt compelled to leave and make a dental appointment.

I soldiered on to my next date who was a no show.  I dressed in my cute skinny jeans, washed my hair which is a symbol of my good intentions, probably shaved at least one leg and went to meet him at a local bar.  I waited and waited and checked my watch over and over to no avail.  After a reasonable 30 minute wait I left pissed.  Who does this?  Are we in high school?  Before I departed I showed the girls at the reservation desk his picture in case he miraculously appeared disheveled, bloody and crippled from being run over and thus his late arrival; in which case I would forgive him.  He never showed and I vowed to never again watch "An Affair to Remember".

 " It's a numbers game" my friend David kept reminding me. I hate when people say that and math.  Had I reached a dead end or should I wait until I ran out of shampoo?  I received multiple emails from a man proclaiming that we were perfect for each other and to call him asap.  I hesitated and parsed his profile to understand his thinking as he continued to bombard me with emails.  I finally agreed to have a phone conversation.  I literally asked him two questions. One about his business and one about his hobby and off he went.  Thirty non stop minutes of blah blah blah blah. Didn't he wonder if I was still alive? I know I wondered if he did this in one big breath. I finally told him I had an appointment and had to go.  Those were the only words I had spoken in what felt like a month.  Ixnay to this man.  He had other ideas however and sent me a 3 paragraph email about what a horrible person I am. I deleted him and prayed I was out of shampoo.

There was one glimmer of dating hope.  I call him Mr. 3 hours and 45 minutes as that is as much time as we spent drinking, eating, talking, and laughing. It was going smoothly.  I actually thought he was attractive for his age, taller than I am and thin, the guy trifecta. He walked me to my car and told me I was a "hoot."  All good and all bad as I never heard from him again.  Was that possible after 3 hours and 45 minutes?  

Yes it was.  And I am finally out of shampoo.