Dating through divorce
I’ve never enjoyed dating. To me, it’s always been wildly stressful with little payoff. OK, the stories it has given me are priceless. But now, since ending a marriage and not dating in a decade, I’ve discovered that it’s also nothing like riding a bike. I don’t know what I’m doing. Things have changed, dramatically, since I’ve been out there.
“Get on Hinge,” my friend tells me. “Oh, Bumble is much better. You’ll have more control,” another girlfriend says. “No, what you really need now is to get laid. Go on Tinder,” someone else tells me.
And because I’m incredibly indecisive, I take each friend’s advice and sign up on all three apps. And then I panic at the thought of having to write a bio. Who is going to click on a profile that reads: Going through a contentious divorce. Have two little kids. Staying with my mom in a 55+ community. HMU! So instead, I ask my kids to describe me and because their words are better, I use them: “Funny. Smart. Safe. Kind. Responsible. Pretty. Agile.” (I don’t know what, specifically, my son meant by ‘agile’ — but I am proud he knows the word.)
Even after creating a profile, I’m faced with the anticipation of what comes next. I mean, how do I transition from the comfort of having a man watch me in the throes of childbirth, as I jumped off the delivery table, grabbed the no-nonsense German nurse and gave her a wedgie, while screaming, “Give me that goddam epidural you promised!” to the pressure of putting my best self forward with regular bikini waxes, fancy lingerie and peeing with the door closed?
I complain to a close friend. “Come over, give me your phone and I’ll have you on a date in 30 minutes,” she tells me. Like me, she’s been through a divorce. But unlike me, she loves to date. “It’s called dating for dinner, Meg,” she explains.
She takes over, but I can’t get into it. Making small talk over calamari and a shitty Cabernet about the size of the fish my date is holding in his profile picture kills my appetite (and my soul). Side bar: What is up with all of the fish? Why are so many men showcasing fish (they may or may not have caught) in their dating profiles? Like, do they really think that turns women on? It’s right up there with all the shirtless selfies in a bathroom. Or worse yet, the selfies in a car, shirtless, wearing a seatbelt. Like, glad you’re responsible, dude, but seriously hope you’re not driving shirtless.
The other day a man messaged me to ask if I’m into submissive men. Another guy told me, “I’m single as a Pringle and neato as a Dorito.” I mean as much as I love chips, I feel like this is not how a grown man should advertise himself. And also, several 20-somethings ‘liked’ my profile to tell me they were looking for a “MILF.” Oh, and someone named “Fat Brains” tried to match with me today. And then there’s the awkwardness of being ‘compatible’ with my ex’s close friend. Seriously, it’s no wonder people stay in bad marriages.
Dating requires some level of vulnerability and trust, which can be hard to manage if those things were broken in your marriage. And let’s not forget sex. It will be expected — with little patience. After the ending of my marriage, people offered, “The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” My friends tell me, “Get back out there and rip off the seal.”
It all feels like a game to me. And I feel too old for games.
Even pre-marriage, I refused to go on dating sites. “I want to meet someone organically,” I told everyone peer-pressuring me. And I did. That said, I’m not sure that’s a testimonial. But I will say that I may not ‘swipe left’ on someone had I met them in person. I find myself to be pretty superficial online; whereas in real life someone’s personality can outshine their looks, and ultimately that’s what I’m after.
And let’s not forget the time suck. Managing three online dating profiles is not conducive to parenting and maintaining a full-time job. So ultimately, albeit entertaining, it’s not for me. But as my kids tell me, “different strokes for different folks.”
