Even A Cougar Can Swim In A Puddle

As my half-birthday approaches (yes, I celebrate it. If I could get people to buy me presents for it, I totally would) and with it the dawn of a new year, I am reminded again that I am still single. Questions begin to enter my mind……do I renew that Costco membership? Am I really going to need that many AA batteries this year? Or should I just invest in rechargeable ones? Do I try, for the fifth (but who’s counting?) time, to see if I’ll really meet my match on Match.com? Or do I take a giant leap into the waters of Christian Mingle and pretend that I’m not a lapsed Catholic? ~ sigh ~

You see friends, every once in a while, when I’m on my couch petting my cat (although I am famous for them, that is not a euphemism for something else. I do that sort of thing in the privacy of my own bedroom, thank you very much), eating Reduced Fat Ruffles (my own personal crack), watching “He’s Just Not That Into You” for the eighth time, I rejoin Tinder (you know your cousin’s friend’s brother’s niece met her soulmate on that hook-up site……don’t lie. It happened). Or OK Cupid (same goes. Someone met their spouse there). I rejoin for approximately an hour, but usually it lasts only about 45 minutes. I end up swiping left so much that my finger begins to cramp (that’s what she said). 45 minutes is about all I can take of looking at a plethora of selfies taken in the driver’s seat of your car with the phone reflected in your mirrored sunglasses, in the bathroom mirror with the phone in the photo (deal breaker), or with a woman in the photo whose face is either blurred out or with the caption “She’s my sister.” I also simply cannot handle profiles full of spelling and grammatical errors and opening lines like “If you’re looking for drama, keep moving. I’m drama-free.” Oh, and in my experience, dudes who say that are ALWAYS the biggest crybabies. Just saying. Anyway, I typically get messages immediately when I sign back up, even without a complete profile, but because I do add at least one photo. And not a photo that’s ten years old and 30 pounds lighter. Trust me, I’ve been there. No, I didn’t do it, but a date did. And he was also four inches shorter than his profile stated (his HEIGHT. Seriously, get your mind out of the gutter where I dragged it in the first place, will you please?). They usually say, “hi I like ur picture” or “hi. Ur cute,” and they look like….well…some may think that I’m shallow for saying this, as I am not America’s Next Top Model, but most (as in 99.9%) of these dudes are simply…….unattractive. UN. A. TTRAC. TIVE. Yes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder (and technically only a light switch away), but if there isn’t a physical attraction, I’m swiping left no matter what your profile says. Am I dismissing my potential soulmate? Possibly. But I make no apologies for that. If I meet someone who becomes my friend first, and I don’t find him physically attractive initially but develop feelings as we get to know each other, that’s an entirely different story. Does that make me a hypocrite? Maybe. But it also makes me honest. At my age (42, and almost a half), I know EXACTLY what I am looking for and I know exactly the traits I will not deal with, which serves to make what was once a sea, then eventually a pond (and a stagnant one at that), now simply a puddle that tends to dry up during a severe drought (hence the reason for the Costco membership). As I get older, and live alone longer (I have been effectively single and living without a mate for eight years now), I do live with a quiet fear that my independent nature and stubbornness on something as simple as which way the toilet paper goes on the dispenser (ALWAYS OVER, NEVER UNDER……also a deal breaker) will result in me spending the rest of my life alone. Okay, I’m not saying I can’t compromise, but I am saying that the longer I am alone, the more set in my ways I become, and the less likely it is that I’ll be able to accept something that, in the past, I may have settled for. You see, I refuse to settle. I know what I’m looking for, what I can live with, and how not to end sentences in prepositions. Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

One might think that if I truly don’t want to be alone, that I should be more willing to settle, but the absolute last thing I ever want to go through in this world ever again is a divorce, so if I ever say “I do” again, it’s going to be until death do us part; for real this time. I know my choices are severely limited, that Marshall Mathers still hasn’t called (WHY HASN’T HE CALLED?), and that I’m not getting any younger, BUT (there’s always a but), I’m a MUCH better woman than I was in my 20’s or even in my 30’s…..ironically, although I do have a stricter set of requirements for a mate now, I am also much more understanding, compassionate, and far less selfish (yes, I see the irony in that as well) than I was in my youth. And that should count for something, right? So perhaps I’ll put a paw into that puddle in 2016 and see what’s swimming around in there. Oh, and you can be sure that you’ll receive periodic updates should I decide to get wet again. Oh dear. That’s what she said, isn’t it? I believe it is. Happy New Year!