The next thing you know, Very Miss Mary got such a make-over from a brilliant stylist named Chaz that she bought every product he used on her face. Even the eye cream. I was held for ransom at the Chanel counter, too, but having played this game with Chanel before, I didn't need to get my credit limit increased. VeryMissMary had to open a whole new account. We looked nice, though, when we went stopped at the grocery store so we'd have yoghurt this morning.
Sadly, when we tried to turn on the heat, we discovered that there was a problem with the furnace in the basement. We built a fire, put on our snuggies and called the oil company where the landlord has an account. The technician arrived about 2:00 in the morning. By that time, we were so cold that we were wearing hats in the house and I was looking for a hotel on Priceline. Fortunately, the technician was successful, and we are grateful and comfortable.
In the process, however, VeryMissMary declared that my hat is one of the reasons I am un-dateable. She wasn't making a random observation. She was contributing to an ongoing discussion since for most of the drive, I had been pondering all the reasons why I might be un-datable ever since that guy told me he'd rather catch up on his reading than meet me in person.
Velvet says it's because I have Zero-Tolerance for assholery, which may be true, but generally somebody will at least have coffee with me. It's possible that this fellow learned enough via email to determine that there's no taming this shrew. The thing is that even though I will call somebody on his/her bullshit now that I'm over 50, I'm fully accepting of human foibles and don't hold a grudge. I'm even good-natured when somebody calls Bullshit on me. At least, I'm good-natured once I've stomped and snorted for a little while.
I know this assessment is accurate because I go through it with Woody Konopelli. Every now and then he can be an aggressive SOB when he's proving a point. Despite both of our tendencies toward strong opinions and stronger language, Woody and I get along famously. Maybe Woody is more evolved than many folks, and maybe that means I would have better results if I stuck to more mature men.
Maturity is not defined by age, of course. It's more about having enough experience with Reality and Relationships to understand that there's no reason to sweat the small stuff. Lots of people think they don't sweat the small stuff, but it turns out like they expect you to accept all their bullshit and your small stuff is intolerable. Certainly some relationships face insurmountable difficulties - like me and Buzz Kill - but none of those issues Small Stuff. It was major shit. Sometimes you can even overcome major shit, but only if you're willing to make an effort that includes respecting the accuracy of each others perspectives. It can get noisy while you're sorting things out - and some people aren't willing to listen to, much less accept, another person's point of view. That's where effort and openess come into the equation. It's not easy, but it's always worth the effort.
Driving for a morning is inconvenient, but not for the right friend and lover. Then it's no trouble at all; it's just time management which is definitely Small Stuff. But, some people must like their lives the way they are, and don't need to make efforts or take chances. Lots of people are afraid to take risks. The Preacher took a big risk, and for that, I will always respect him. It became clear very rapidly that there was no chance for Romance for lots of reasons - but that's okay. We would have never known if we hadn't made an effort. And the thing is that even if you think you know what you want from a relationship, you could wind up in a great relationship that's not a bit like the one you imagined for yourself. You take your chances and figure it out as you go along. Kind of like Indiana Jones.
It's really hard to hear from someone that you're not worth the effort. I don't know if it's better or worse that he doesn't know me in real life at all. What he actually said was that he doesn't have the time or the inclination for a long distance relationship. I didn't consider 200 miles a long distance. In fact, I thought it was just right - but then I need a lot of space and am very concerned with balancing intimacy and independence. I'm beginning to think that when you're older, you value your solitude in ways that seemed impossible when you're younger.
VeryMissMary still thinks it's the hat. Apparently, men are more likely to date women who are dolled up like trophy whores than women with practical, utilitarian accessories - no matter who makes your lip stick. She says that when women are as available as I am, men don't want them. People want things they can't have, so women have to make men "work for it." She's probably right, but that all seems wrong to me, although I have to say that it looks like the reason I fixate on that guy who won't talk to me is because he won't talk to me. If I got mixed up with him, I'd remember why I broke up with him - but only if he hadn't matured over time. When people are maturing and evolving, they still have all their idiosyncrasies, but they let go of old patterns and make room for growth. Growth is good. Instead of remembering why we broke up, we could remember why we were together.
I'm getting used to the idea that when it comes to most men, I'm undatable. When I was young and had all those fiancees, I was very dateable - but I also sublimated my own identity for the relationship. I did that with The Guy Who Won't Talk to Me, too. That's an effort I will not make anymore.
I like to think that I'm undatable because men see me as the kind of woman who, if he can make it through one weekend, he'll be fooling around with for years - but I like to think lots of things. I clap because I believe in fairies, for crying out loud.
No matter what, though, it sucks to be the person on the receiving end of Nothing Personal.