I admit it – the shorter daylight hours – how the sun floats behind the pre-War Upper West Side New York buildings at 6:00 PM – rather than 8:00 PM – has me down. Honestly, a plethora of circumstances – seemingly immutable – have gotten me more in the mood to pull the duvet over my head, after taking a healthy dose of sleeping pills.
My therapist tells me to have patience, not to project the future. But my 12 year sojourn through a travesty of dating and poor job choices have left me at the crossroads of nowhere and how did I get here? I know that life presents challenges, but I’ve bottled enough lemonade to serve the Upper East Side community where I live, until the Second Avenue subway is finished. I’m more excited about the subway since I anticipate increased property values and an easier commute – much easier.
So after a notable absence from the dating world, I dipped my cursor in the playing field and posted a personal ad. If you have a better idea, I’d like to hear it. I’ve met a number of eligible men recently who attracted me to varying degrees. One was a libidinous 32-year old – definitely hot – but he wanted sex basically in the office where I was working for a brief stint. Then the equally libidinous Columbia professor who wanted sex after offering up diner and somewhat stimulating conversation for six hours. There was the sexy photographer who bore a resemblance to Harrison Ford, but he was HIV positive and wanted to date only in that pool. I weathered these disappointments with humor and equanimity. I responded to more ads. I went out again with few expectations. Then I met Nosferatu – a pleasant man whom I suspect lied about his age, who is divorcing a lovely woman because – well he never really explained that. We shared a hamburger, think about retirement and the failing economy, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything but his skinny, bony, pasty hands. These were not hands that I would welcome into my bed, or anywhere. Chemistry? Zero. Naturally, Nosferatu is devoted and wants to prove that he is a worthy contender for my heart’s throne.
How, I ask myself, do I turn away someone who so generously is offering an ear and nascent devotion? I told Nosferatu that I was interested in friendship, which he accepted as encouragement. Am I asking too much? Never one to fall in love, or lust easily, I’ve at least known the thrill of mutual attraction. Is it time to get a bone density screening and shuffle off with bony hands? Divorce has taught me that it’s better to be alone than with the wrong man. I need to remind myself of this when I’m alone watching some patented network fare, wondering if I should settle down with Ben & Jerry or send out another resume.
I knew that life had rough patches, I just thought that they, like everything else, ended. This recent expanse seems intolerable.
And I had another job interview today. My interviewer waited until I’d driven over an hour before telling me that the salary was 55K. The last time I entertained a salary in that range was my early 30’s. Yet I need a job. I enjoyed a 2 – hour rush hour commute where I debated the pros of accepting such a job. Surely I can earn as much doing something else without the laborious commute. Can’t I?
Life lobs curve balls at your head, I think but I am determined to remain positive. Surely a better opportunity for me is just around the corner. So I’ll send out another resume, stay limber at the gym, take some boxing lessons to address my escalating aggression and wait for a better day. It could be tomorrow.