However at some point, likely in the very near future, after the ink on the divorce decree has dried, I will want to seek out some form of companionship. Ideally, this "companion" will fall out of the sky and land on my doorstep at a convenient time such as the hour in between the kids' bedtime and my own, or on one of my every-other-kid-free weekends, and he will be 6'3" and the Sean Connery kind of middle-aged, fully insured, with a healthy 401(k) and a desire to travel. I'll give that approach a couple of years to see if it pans out and then will, very reluctantly, have to consider jumping back into the dating pool.
I don't want to. I hated dating. Even when my ex-husband and I were at the height of our misery together, when we'd fight in furious whispers before the girls were in bed and at full volume afterwards, when every little thing he did, like breathing, made me want to take my own life or his, I could still say to myself with smug satisfaction, "At least I don't have to date anymore."
You might think I'm being a bit overly dramatic, or that my attitude is a simple matter of deep-seeded insecurity. Both are true, but also true are my battle scars from the first go-around. Here I will share with you the only positive side-effect of dating, which are the stories you can use to entertain your paired friends. Allow me to entertain you here with some stand-outs from 10 years of dating:
1) The spitting hunchback.
You think I am kidding? Tall, scrawny guy who stooped aggressively when he sat and despite the lack of any mouth hardware had a tough time keeping his saliva to himself. Why did I go out with him? He was a writer for Comedy Central. He was fucking hilarious. But I kept having to scoot my chair back from the table to avoid the precipitation until I ended up on the other side of the restaurant. At the end of the date he said sadly, "I had a really great time and would like to do it again, but I don't get many second dates so I understand if you don't call me." Shocker.
2) The Matt Damon Lawyer, also known as 50 First Dates.
He was a lawyer. Who looked like Matt Damon. Happily ever after, right? No. There was absolutely no chemistry between us. He was still hung up on a shiksa he'd fallen in love with, but his family wouldn't allow him to marry outside the Jewish faith. I counted as suitable, even though I couldn't tell you what any of the Jewish holidays mean, and we both seemed like someone the other should fall in love with, so we kept going out. But we never got past the stilted, awkward conversation of a first date. We didn't go out 50 times, more like 7 or 8, before I grudgingly admitted that, because the fates have a sick, twisted sense of humor, I wasn't attracted to him and he wasn't attracted to me.
3) The Guy Who Couldn't Find Chocolate in February
Cute guy. Can't remember what he did for a living. Great idea for a first date - the Met - but when I met him on the steps of the museum he handed me a grocery bag. In this grocery bag was a box of nondescript cookies. I looked at him, puzzled, and he explained, "I wanted to get you chocolates but I couldn't find any." It was the first week of February. You couldn't make a move anywhere in the city without knocking over a Valentine's Day display. So I had to assume either he had this box of cookies sitting around his apartment that he wanted to get rid of, or he was blind, or he was a complete fucking moron.
4) The Simpson's Guy
He was a screenwriter. Score! Except screenwriters are jittery, socially phobic introverts. At least, this one was. If I remember correctly he had something to do with one of the Scream movies, but after most of us had moved on from the genre. Maybe the third one. Or was there a fourth? In any case, this was the only thing he could talk about, not in a bragging way, but in a "I don't really have any other personality trait" kind of way. We met at a bar, and over the bar was a television on which played a muted Simpsons cartoon. He spent the entire evening watching the Simpsons over my head and occasionally throwing in some Simpsons trivia for my enjoyment. I got the feeling the Simpsons were his security blanket, and maybe he'd tipped the bartender to put it on so he wouldn't have a panic attack during the date.
5) The Guy on Drugs
He called on a Tuesday night around 7 and asked if I was free. I thought, why not? He was already seated at the bar when I got there, and seemed very nervous. Like, the FBI are going to find me here any minute kind of nervous. He was practically vibrating. He kept drumming the table. His knees bounced up and down so rapidly they were a blur. When I asked if he was all right he replied, wild-eyed, "Oh man, I just did a LOT of drugs."
There are so many more. And I know I was a story in some of their repertoires as well. Like the time a blind date took me to the Four Seasons for a drink and I tried to sip my Diet Coke out of a glass stirrer because I was twenty four and had never been anywhere fancier than the Hot Wings for 10 cents place back home. And the guy I met for a beer whom I apparently offended in some incredibly grievous way because he abruptly cut the date short and then wouldn't walk me home. It was New York City, it was late, and a neighbor had recently been attacked by a serial rapist in her vestibule. Even an asshole's company was preferable to walking home alone. But apparently he thought this was a ruse to have sex with him, on account of he'd been so charming all evening, and resisted until I decided my mace was the only gentleman I could count on that night. On his list, I was probably That Offensive Woman Who Tried to Get Me to Sleep with Her With a Bullshit Serial Rapist Story.
I don't think my self-esteem could take another round of this at my advanced age. Or rather, at my advanced age I no longer have the patience for another round. But there are many fish in the sea and every pot has a lid and you have to get right back on that horse.
But first I'm going to wait a little longer for Sean Connery to fall out of the sky.
