Kind of an update.

I see all of no one saw my first and only post. It’s kind of a downer, so it’s just as well.

But hey, I’m fine. Didn’t fall apart, completely. I mean, it was a shitty time in my life, for sure. I’m just really glad I didn’t post the details. I mean, it would have made for an entertaining story or a most humiliating cautionary tale. But I didn’t want my divorce to define me. And it didn’t. It did give me a different perspective on life and relationships, though. And how you never really know someone.  

It didn’t take as long to get my life back together–just more than a few years. My daughter and work kept me focused. I still haven’t started my romance novel. It’s not even that I don’t have the time. The interest just isn’t there for it. All the stories that I wanted to write aren’t the ones I want to tell anymore. 

Maybe it’s just me.  

I’ve started dating again. It’s different now, though. People don’t go out on actual dates. It’s coffee now. Or ‘drinks.’ And drinks is code for ‘not interested in dating but will consider smashing.’ But coffee could mean that, too. Just depends on the person and the day?

I learned that just because you’re dating, it doesn’t mean it’s exclusive. And even if it is exclusive, it’s not necessarily a relationship. Also, there are several types of relationships: FWB, NSA, committed, open, situationship, casual, just hanging out, seeing each other, talking … and apparently only one person gets to decide which it is–and they don’t even have to tell you. 

So it’s like a surprise when you figure it out, a lot of times after you’ve wasted too much time. 

It hasn’t been hard to meet people. Just hard to decipher their intentions. None of them can answer a direct question without a vague answer. My absolute favorite: “Let’s just see where it goes.” Seems reasonable, right? I thought so, too. But I found out they want to see it go to their bedroom–and as fast as possible! 

I’m in no hurry to get to there. But even if I was, it will probably take more than one coffee date. 

Not all of them were like that. Some were quite nice and we met for coffee several times after-but that was it. I can’t say I’ve been on an actual real date. Is that not a thing anymore?  Coffee and drinks are great for a first meeting, but does no one eat anymore? Go to the movies? The beach? Parks? Have fun?! 

Interestingly, I did find out that men my age are not interested in dating a woman my age. And I’m not even THAT old! But men half my age? Can’t shake ‘em off with a stick. It’s flattering, but realistically where’s that gonna go except a few rounds under the covers?  I want to grow old with someone, not before them. 

Honestly, I thought chatting on the dating app would weed out the guys just looking for a hookup, MILF or mom-figure. It doesn’t. It’s almost predatory how dishonest they are about their intentions–and “I’m not looking for anything, but open to seeing where things go” means, “not looking for a relationship, but down to smash.” 

Super grateful for the “Not looking for anything serious,” “Just here for a good time,” and “Married, but looking for a third.” The honesty is refreshing. Like, I’m not judging–just don’t waste our time.

But I haven’t really gone on too many dates, so maybe I don’t have the right to judge an entire scene with limited screen time.

Well, I’ll leave you with a recent ‘coffee’ meeting experience. I learned for the first time that what you see online is not always what you get. I expected a little bit of that, but this one guy… I had no words–at the time. 

First, Jake* was funny. Our chats were fun. He had a few photos up and I kind of thought he looked like the guy from The 300. Handsome. I agreed to meet him over coffee at the bookstore cafe and looked forward to it–we had a lot in common and he was only 2 years younger than me. 

To say I didn’t recognize him even though I was looking right at him is not an exaggeration. Not only had he photoshopped his pictures–he had a completely different face–AND one very large, brown, bulbous mole… on the tip of his nose. He could have been a Sanderson brother. If they had a one. But I digress.

Would I have met him had I seen his real face? Probably not. I think he knew that, so he tried to lead with his personality online. But, really he wasn’t even unattractive, the mole was just very distracting. Very distracting. To the point, he addressed it without me asking–apparently it can’t be removed. 

I really did enjoy our chats, though, so I matured and decided to “see where the conversation leads to, hopefully a real date.” Because, like I said, we clicked online. However, it didn’t take long before I just wanted the conversation to lead me to the door. Whoever showed up to meet me, did not have the same personality as the person I had messaged with online.  

Jake was loud. 

Jake laughed like a hyena. 

Jake kept reaching over the table for my hand. 

Jake refered to himself in third person. 

Jake proclaimed very loudly we were perfect for each other. 

Jake kept making references to our ‘chemistry’ doing things to his ‘litmus stick.’ Yeah, I don’t know either. 

My breaking point: When a friend of mine saw us, and came over to say hi, she asked who he was and before I could say anything he told her he was my boyfriend. And laughed like a hyena. 

It was the most bizarre thing. Truly, I was stunned. I wondered if it was a prank? Was this going to end up on social media? If he wasn’t interested in more than coffee, he could have just said mol–so. 

We had an audience, the entire cafe. I didn’t know what to do. There was no self-extraction plan. 

Thankfully, my friend grabbed a gentleman from a nearby table who was sitting by himself, and asked him to pretend to be an ex boyfriend. If I wasn’t already embarrassed enough–this guy was really really really good looking. I was actually surprised he did it. It was believable, too. 

It wasn’t anything too dramatic. He just grabbed my hand, said “We need to talk,” and pulled me around the corner bookshelves. At the same time, I heard my friend telling Jake that it would be better if he left. 

Once the coast was clear, he walked me back to my friend and I bought him a coffee as a thank you. I was surprised when he asked for my phone, put his number in it, and said, “call me sometime.” 

I will not be calling him anytime. Because he didn’t put all the numbers in, or add his name. Call me stupid, but I didn’t need a pity play. My friend thinks he probably did it to help save my pride a little. I can accept that. So, if you happen to be reading this one day, thanks–you’re the best fake ex I’ve never had.

Definitely going to rethink how I’m meeting people, though. If guys like Mr. Fake ExBoyfriend are just hanging out in bookstore cafes, why am I not there more often? 

Until next time. 

Embarrassingly, 

Me

(*Name has been changed to protect the owner of the mole)