I seem to keep wondering off on tangents. I started this blog thinking
I would write about the funny parts of dating as some objective observer. I felt more comfortable addressing the singles’ scene as a science experiment run amok, rather than allowing myself to become emotionally involved. Unfortunately, in this continued social distancing, I’ve veered off track and written of cats in Airbnbs, Mary Queen of Scots, decisions in writing my book, hiking and a whole lot of extraneous stuff.
The truth is: I’m not very brave. I thought writing a very funny book about dating and having a website would force me to get out there and at least socialize but I’m having a rough time. Even with all the bravado of Spinster’s Guide, I’m a little embarrassed about being single. I just don’t feel like I fit. As my mom has said, she thought I would be the stable one with 6 kids. Instead, I’m divorced (a born-again spinster for you semanticists out there) and navigating the singles’ scene in my 50s. If that were not enough, there is an added complexity: I’ve been single for years. All this “me time” has created a monster who is not great at compromising and has a list of dealbreakers a mile long. Sometimes, I wonder if I haven’t lost my stomach for dating.
An example of my social failure happened the other night. I noticed one of my favorite bands playing at a local bar and asked several friends if they would like to go. (That’s also the thing about being single. You must plan everything ahead if you’re going to spend time with others. You have no built-in social life.) My pals all had packed calendars. I did not have the guts to go by myself (it’s humiliating to be the old lady at the bar) and stayed home. I am embarrassed to say, I have no idea if I would have had fun because I was too afraid of being alone.
I needed to take a page out of Shonda Rimes’ book: Year of Yes: How to Dance It Out, Stand in the Sun and Be Your Own Person. She talked about her year of saying yes to everything and all the opportunities that came as a result. Maybe you can join me, dear reader. Maybe we can be the proverbial roller rink stars, pulling each other forward through the morass of potential loneliness, embarrassment and heartbreak and coming out on the other end, not to a whooping crowd, but perhaps with our heads held a little higher in living a life not compromised by fear and perceived expectations.