THE KNOW IT ALL

Being single in your 40s has proven to be quite the challenge. My belief is not because of the city in which I live, but because women have choices, a lot of them especially if they're single.  With a little research, they are exposed to a plethora of online matchmaking sites promising everything from taking long walks on the beach to paying you monthly allowances.

Meet Dan Smith.

His profile, sparse as it was, revealed two nice looking photos, clean cut, local-ish to the Bay Area, assuming San Jose is still considered within the realm, and he seemed to be looking for the usual chemistry, connection and something more.

We email each other 24 hours before planning our meeting, and he shares his name is actually Robb. OK, hello Robb. The email banter is short. No flirting, little information exchanged and more firm in tone than I typically experience. My excitement level was low, and relieved that I had another drink appointment lined up shortly thereafter. I’ve learned over the years that having an escape plan is always a smart idea.

I arrive 5 minutes late to the empty bar where we’ve decided to meet. He’s seated along the wall at a communal table, vodka drink nearly gone and somewhat attractive. Not sure he looked like his photos, or at least the primary one that was probably taken some 10 years ago and 20 pounds lighter. He barely greets me, picks his head up from being buried in his phone and says, “Oh, hey! You know sign language?” Shocked as I was that he greeted me with some historical information, it was creepy that within a few minutes of finding out my last name (TIP: be sure to create a fake email account, name and cell phone number!), he was now studying my LinkedIn profile. I smiled, gave him what I refer to as a fake laugh and asked if was looking for someone in marketing. I mean, play Words with Friends or something other than researching the date that’s walking through the door.

I’d like to say that the conversation flowed but in all honesty, there was very little in the way of conversing. He spoke to me and at me. In fact, it took Dear Robb a good 15-20 minutes to not only ask me a question but then every so often, he realized that I too may want a drink. I think I politely mentioned my drink preference about 4 times as he continued to steam roll over every topic he could cover, all in one breath. Barely able to keep up, it ran the gamut from all of his “successful” dating experiences, to his awesome ex-girlfriend who lived in the Marina and worked at Goldman Sachs to the fact that I had far too much competition within my age category to even consider dating anyone under the age of 60. Almost aghast, gulping down my newfound love for Mezcal, I not so subtly laughed out loud thinking I was on candid camera. Oh, I can’t forget his oh so bold, right winged political opinions, back to sign language to him buried in his phone again texting with whom he refers to as “cat sitter.” Cue fake smile as he begins swiping his photo album to share the handful of his 17 year old cat photos. Sadly I couldn’t even get a word in to tell him I wasn’t a cat person. Forty-five minutes go by and I was exhausted. This so called conversation felt like a surreal Ping Pong match gone wrong. As he continued to talk to me, about what I can’t recall, I thought my meter should be running out soon and it was my perfect excuse to wrap this up. He looked up again, noticing my empty drink, and asked, “Another one?” I flashed him my no so innocent smile and politely declined. “Ya know, I’m all set. I think I’m done here,” I said. He agreed, paid the bill and off we went. Walking a good five feet apart, down the sidewalk of Market Street, making not so small talk, he got to his car first. “See ya.” Wow, one more drink appointment under the belt and I’m pooped!

FINDING YOUR ESSENCE

I have found, especially during unemployment, that the key to ward off depression or boredom is to stay busy doing the things you love. Seek out something or someone new. Cross those things of your to-do list, and start today. As my mom always reminds me, “Think of these down times as a chance to prepare and get things in order when life takes you on a whirlwind of the busy.”

So between writing cover letters, applying for jobs and reading articles on how to find a job, I came across a friend’s post on Facebook that seemed appealing.  After reading a bit more, I decided to break up my day with an opportunity to find my inner femininity, something I've probably struggled with my whole life as I've hidden behind my favorite Ann Taylor turtleneck. 

[see image]

Bring "sexy" clothes for the photo shoot and something to share for dinner is that last note I received from the gal leading this course. I thought long and hard about what I'd bring for dinner. Should I pick up burritos, make something homemade or do I run by Costco? After all, I didn't want to be the girl who showed up with a bag of ruffles. The "sexy" clothes concept was actually the easy part; I didn't own any. Aside from a hot pink bra I'd never worn to some red lipstick, I figured the sexy would surface by the end of the workshop.

One other gal showed up, who was no more than twenty-five, Latin, thin and oozed sexuality. The afternoon started with some conversation about why we were there (all two of us), some slow yoga-like movements and breath work to help us settle in. While the leader read some poetry out loud, we were instructed to hold and feel our belly's. "Breath in your nose, out your mouth. Now touch your shoulders, then your arms and find your way back to your breasts. " It was right about then when opened my eyes to look around to see if I was on candid camera. My inner self had to repeat this mantra, "Stay present. You're trying something new and remember, it's only an afternoon." 

THE CURE THAT CAME OUT OF NOWHERE

Like most engaged in the online dating world, Tinder has become much like a game or at the very least addicting. It's a love hate relationship. Swiping photos of men donned in their Hans Solo get up or half naked in their Burning Man garb makes on yearn for the days of playing pac man at a bar. It's Russian roulette. If you and your prince charming mutually swipe, your photo and his will vanish into a new platform where you then have the ability to exchange a heartfelt, text messaging relationship. My fingers are crossed. 

[An hour later and after meeting THE KNOW IT ALL]

Meet Aaron.

He had a handful of photos that showed an up close of his face (which is a rare occurrence), his ability to have fun and it was endearing to see photos of his daughter that he displayed with great pride. Our text conversation begins by him saying that he was just visiting the Bar Area for work, and the he was leaving the next day to go back to Portland. My initial thought was that  Portland wasn't South Africa and it was on my short list of places to visit. "Hey, I lived in Atlanta for 16 years," he said. "Care to grab a drink? I'm meeting friends for happy hour but need to eat after. Maybe we meet at 8pm?" I agree, since he's staying at The Fairmont which is a mere 2 minute scooter ride from my sofa. Prior to arriving, This couldn't be worse than THE KNOW IT ALL, and already I have a general sense that he's fun and flirty, so I have nothing to lose by grabbing a drink and a bite. A text comes in saying, "Be forewarned, I'm comin' in hot. I've had a few cocktails." We meet outside the hotel and I catch his eye as he walks across the street. He's cute, well dressed and from my vantage point, he's maybe 5'5". Off to Nob Hill Cafe we go, and things between us flow, it's easy and I immediately feel comfortable in his presence. We order wine, and more wine, followed by food and as he excuses himself from the table, he kisses me en route to the restroom and the flirtation dial ramps up by a few notches. I like this guy. I feel good and am happy to be exactly where I am. I'm pleasantly surprised at the ease of our conversation and that we've both chosen to be so spontaneous. "I usually don't have dinner on a first Tinder meeting," he says. Neither do I. In fact, first meetings, or drink appointments as they've been coined (thank you Rochelle), typically commence with a glass or two of wine to determine whether of not you want to spend more than 45 minutes with someone, so this is definitely out of the norm.

The alarm goes off promptly at 6am. "Uh, how did that happen?" The level of comfort and ease continued as he showered and got dressed for work. He was telling me more about his back-to-back meetings that he felt so ill-prepared for when both started laughing as our thoughts aligned. "What if I joined you in the meetings as your colleague? Dude, this could be "Meeting Crashers!" There was a split second when the reality of doing this felt far too good. I mean, I was looking for a job, and this could be a perfect opportunity. 

A few kisses later, we hugged and said our goodbyes. "Let's do this again, I had an awesome time!" We both smiled and went our separate ways as he said, "I'll see you in the meeting!"