As most of you know, I've been able to avoid making a second trip to the altar for over 13 years now. There have been a few close calls and some potential shots that came up short, but another year is about to come and go with me somehow being unable to find "Miss Right."
Over the years since my divorce, there have been a few ladies that had potential -- and some that were great for sowing the ol' oats, so to speak. Some were part of some great moments in my life. Others . . . well, let's just say they had their moments.
Somehow, though, the lady who would be my "Miss Right" seems to not know of my whereabouts. And those that I have been out with recently, some of whom look like they might have potential, turn out to be yet another flake-job dingbat that seems more intent on playing games with my heart rather than trying to win it outright.
Recently, I have had a profile up on a matchmaking website. The profile has a few pictures of me, information about my physical profile, my likes and dislikes, and an honest (if not hilariously long-winded) description of who I am and what I'm looking for.
In the time I have had profiles on different matchmaking websites, I have had the opportunity to meet -- and go out with -- a number of women in the area. And to be quite honest, I'm still trying to find one that doesn't have at least one screw loose somewhere.
I met one a few years ago that lived near Lincoln. We met at a karaoke bar in Lincoln one night and really hit it off. We went out on 2-3 dates (one with our kids to a local pumpkin patch, which was a blast), and everything seemed to be going well.
That is until one day when she broke up with me -- by instant messenger. No phone call. No handwritten note. No court-approved protection order served by a member of law enforcement. She did it through the Internet, from the comfort of her home computer.
Welcome to dating in the 21st century.
The reason she wanted to split up was that, in her words, she wasn't ready for a relationship. I was a nice guy and all, but she just wasn't ready to settle down.
I was fine with that, until she instant messaged me three months later -- to let me know she was engaged to be married.
Huh?
Then there was the woman who thought I was really hot and, from the moment I walked into her apartment, could not keep her hands off me. I usually wouldn't have a problem with that, but there was just one thing -- the gray-haired, slightly-overweight woman who was practically fondling me at the front door was nowhere close to being the thin, blonde-maned dame that was pictured in her profile.
Talk about "buyer's remorse."
A couple of years ago, I actually met someone through one of these matchmaking websites who appeared to be as good as advertised. She had a little drawl in her voice, was blonde and mind-numbingly attractive with a smile that I couldn't stop thinking about. The fact that she had three kids and had recently lost her job was a concern, but I was willing to help her get back on her feet.
Less than two months later, she suddenly moved out after we had a brief discussion about her struggle to find a job. She had temporarily moved into my apartment and, while I wasn't expecting her to help with rent at that time, it seemed she had a lot on her mind and was unwilling to discuss it or let me help her out.
She moved out and, less than six months later, was MARRIED -- to a guy she moved in with in Illinois only a few weeks after she moved out of my home.
Most recently, I met a woman who -- like me -- had dealt with some rough patches in her life. A couple of messy divorces, some health issues and two teenage children (one now in college). It looked like one of those "opposites attract" kind of thing, with her guarded pessimism clashing with my "glass half full and more water on the way" sense of optimism.
Not surprisingly, this one has also ended before it began after I got an e-mail the other day saying that she was interested in another man -- one that she had verbally trashed during our one face-to-face encounter over barbecue ribs at a local restaurant.
Now I know what you're thinking. You're wanting to e-mail me and say, "Mike, ditch the online matchmaking nonsense and do it the old-fashioned way. These online broads are nothing but a hard drive full of nutjobs."
In theory, that's a good idea. Recent history suggests, however, that this approach hasn't worked out so well either.
There was the one woman I met at my dad's 50th birthday party -- and eventually was actually engaged to -- who became power-hungry and was all but moving me out of state when she got a new job. The sex was great, being told what to do, how to do it and where to do it . . . ehh . . . not so much.
Then there was the one that I met through my job and actually ended up having a baby with (and subsequently giving up for adoption). She was a great person but much too shy (and, in retrospect, too young) when it came to dealing with life's issues head-on. It also put a big road block in my world when it came to inter-office dating. I won't say I'll never "dip the pen in the company inkwell" again -- let's just say that the temptation to do such a thing was greatly reduced by this particular experience.
And, of course, there was the wild-and-crazy chick who -- while mind-numbingly amazing under the sheets -- was too much of a party animal and seemed more intent on getting drunk than wanting to establish a solid long-term relationship.
Yeah, I know how to pick 'em, don't I?
I've asked close friends of mine -- on numerous occasions -- to set me up with any single friends they might have. As of this writing, I'm still waiting on one of my friends to follow through on that. I don't know if it's that they value their friendships too much to want to take that risk -- or they just don't have any friends good enough for me (or vice versa).
Now that I'm in the 40-something stage of life, the days of looking for someone to "fool around" with are really not a high priority. Don't get me wrong -- I enjoy "foolin' around" with a member of the female gender (as would most of the guys reading this particular blog). But personal history has taught me that using the ol' fashioned hook-up as the basis for a long-term relationship is like building a mansion in the middle of a beach -- not much of a foundation to work with, and it'll crumble the first time the foundation shifts.
Friends and family keep saying, "Don't worry -- she'll find you someday. The right one will come along when you least expect it."
Funny, but there have been numerous times when the LAST thing I was expecting was for Miss Right to knock on my door, crash into my car, bump into me in the produce line at the grocery store or knock me unconscious with a wayward tee shot on the fifth hole at the local country club, and at last report . . .
SHE STILL HASN'T SHOWN HERSELF!!!
It's reached the point where, in the absence of Miss Right, I seem to have two viable options remaining. Those options are:
1. Becoming a homosexual, orrrr,
2. Becoming a monk.
Now the first option, in all honesty, is not one I intend on entertaining. No offense to anybody in the audience who flies that particular airline, but I was wired by God to be attracted to one gender, and one gender only. And as frustrating as they are to deal with -- I'm not going to be batting from the other side of the plate in the game of life anytime soon, if you know what I mean (and I'm pretty sure you do).
That leaves the option of becoming a monk. In some respects, it wouldn't be that difficult. My head is almost bald already. I sometimes speak in unintelligible tongues. I have little in the way of worldly possessions. Hell -- I'm already halfway there. Then again . . . I'm not sure a monastery would want somebody as tightly-wound and prone to practical jokes as I am hanging around. One whoopie cushion before the morning chant could throw the whole place into a state of chaos.
And so, since these aren't good options, I guess I have no other choice than to continue the search for the seemingly unattainable. Somehow, some way, I'll continue in the hope that I might find that one thing that seems to be missing in my life right now, the one person who can somehow fill in the blanks of my perpertually-broken heart.
Someone who can laugh. Someone who has been kicked in the mouth by life (figuratively speaking, of course) and gets up to kick it right back. Someone who is warm, caring, intelligent and can put up with my quirks the same way I'm willing to do with hers. Someone who isn't some flake-job that runs at the first sign of affection. Someone who gives as good as she gets. Someone truly willing to be a part of something (and someone) special -- not the same old song and dance she's become accustomed to and would like to get away from, but doesn't seem to think she has an opportunity to.
All I need is one good woman. Can she be THAT hard to find?
