by Meredith Siegel Cohen, Creator, Single and Striking Out

I have made so many unkept pledges to my body. I’m going to accept you. I’m going to love you. And yet, I consistently break them.

They came to mind as I stood in front of the mirror yesterday, readying for my 33^rd first date, feeling disgusted. How can my bottom half look so dramatically different from the top? Guess I haven’t quite come to terms with my thighs just yet. I felt unattractive. (I suppose the buttercream cupcakes I enjoyed with abandon on Mother’s Day didn’t help).

I felt tired.

Not just a physical exhaustion, but something from deep inside.

He seemed nice enough online, as we kept bumping into each other over the years on the various sites. Recently he proclaimed “Meredith, it’s time to meet!” and I agreed. Can’t play the banter game forever. And honestly, I don’t seem to have a taste for that anymore. What was once fun and flirty now feels silly to me— a waste of time and energy. Why not just get into the substance sooner? Why play games of ‘what do they want to hear’ only to find out later it’s not at all who either of us really are.

It was still 80 degrees at 6pm. What to wear, what to wear. I have a closet full of clothes, but no ‘dating’ tops.

What is a dating top anyway??

I put on dark jeans to minimize my thick legs as best I could, and a black tank. I used to have such good arms. My arms were always something to highlight. But in the reflection, I saw a woman with a little jiggle under her upper arms. Something to hide in a jacket, which I swiftly slung over my shoulders. A cream color, to draw the eyes up. Better, but now hot. Ugh. If I have to take the jacket off, he’ll see the jiggle. And what to do about these thighs?? Put on shapewear? No! Too warm for that.

I studied my reflection’s face. She had a look of fatigue. Life has thrown some serious curveballs, and it shows. Lines have formed around her mouth, on her forehead. The under eyes are a little deeper. The hair is not as glossy as it once was, and a little thinner. It’s longer now, in an effort to look younger. Not sure she achieved the desired result.

Why must I leverage such sharp criticism of myself right before a date?? Why not focus on the positive? The woman staring back at me cut a decent figure. She still has a small waist, a wide smile, and an ability to put herself together in a classic style.

The problem was, I wasn’t feeling it. The butterflies, the nervous anticipation. I felt flat—almost like, let’s get this over with.

Never a good starting place.

Still, I showed up.

We met at one of my favored restaurants, and he gave me a warm greeting. He actually seemed rather nervous, which made me smile to myself. Why would anyone feel nervous around me?

It was close to 7pm, and we ordered drinks and appetizers. The first few sips of my gin cocktail helped loosen the tongue. We made pleasant conversation, mainly about literature and the arts. I enjoyed it to a point, but then began to feel as if I were a visitor in someone else’s world.

In the midst of the conversation, my mind wandered. Did my daughter’s flight land? Still need to make dinner reservations for my son’s upcoming graduation. When can I schedule a pedicure? I regrouped quickly as he was talking. I’m sorry, can you repeat that?

I stared at him. His eyes, his face. He actually looked younger than his years. He was nice looking, although there was a lot of facial hair, something that I don’t find appealing.

Could I kiss this man? Could I envision myself being in a romantic relationship with him?

Sadly, no.

And once you know that, the date is over, even if the other person is unaware. He was a genuinely nice, interesting guy. It just wasn’t a match.

Thank you for a lovely evening. I enjoyed our conversation, but I don’t feel a connection in that way. I wish you all the best on your journey to find ‘the one.’

How many times have I said or written these uncomfortable words? How many more times will I have to say them—or hear them?

At the end of the date, the bill came. Can I contribute?  I felt obligated to say. His reply? You don’t have to. I’d never heard that one before. Usually it’s “absolutely not,” as they grab the check. Serves me right and duly noted. From now on, I will stand by my expectation and simply say ‘thank you.’

When we stood up to leave, he placed his hand on the small of my back. What would have been welcomed, had I felt excited, instead felt presumptuous. Of course that wasn’t his intention. But it was clear to me that it was time to go – all I wanted was to get in my car and head home. I hoped he wouldn’t ask for a second date, so I wouldn’t have to say anything disappointing just then. Thankfully, he didn’t, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was experiencing the same feelings.

Driving home, I noted that I didn’t feel terribly dissimilar to when I was driving there. Not excited, not discouraged – just kind of baseline.

When nothing clicks, it’s a bummer. Having unmet expectations stinks, and when you don’t have any expectations, it stinks because you think these are the times something will come from nothing. Well, it wasn’t meant to be last night.

I kind of knew this going in, and so I wonder if I set the tone for myself. Would a different mindset have changed anything? I don’t think so. You can’t force a physical attraction, or even a feeling of fun, if it’s not there. I wasn’t disappointed in him—just in the process.

Is there someone out there for me? Or has the time for love passed me by? I envision the ending to the filming of a movie, when the director says “that’s a wrap!” But I hardly think the curtain is ready to come down on my dating life.

No. I do strongly feel, deep in my heart, that a great love is still out there, waiting for me, ready to embrace my heart, my mind and my figure. But he’s not going to just appear on my doorstep. I’ve got to keep trying, responding, and showing up.

Putting myself out there at 53 is so different than at 44. My mind was sharper. My body was younger. My patience and energy were more robust. And yet, I have so much to offer. I am still excited, still desirous . . .

Still hoping.

Are you still in the dating game in mid-life? Please share with me how you stay hopeful.  And seriously, where do you find good dating tops??

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