I finally learned of an online dating service that I thought would be a good fit for my new agey, quantum, law of attraction weirdo selfness. "This is it!" and to keep it strong, I signed up ($$$) for a whole year.
No creepy guys, and the fellows that connected seemed interesting.
I hated the whole thing. The puppy-in-the-window feel of the portrait board and the JUDGEMENT element of having to decide "like" or "hide."
I know so many people who are truly happy - ever after happy - with the partners they've found online but I am just not tough enough for the process.
I had a problem with the process. So I deleted my account.
Maybe part of my problem is that I actually like my aloneness.
For a while, newly single, I thought my perfect guy would be like me. Gotta love to dance and love Disneyland. And then I spent some time with someone with those attributes and realized that actually I have been much more intrigued by men who are not like me. Men who do different things.
For a while I thought I wanted to connect up with a gardener - like me - but then the light bulb turned on.
Another gardener would, I suspect, want to constantly tell me how to run my garden.
Another part of my problem with the site was that there were so many looking for the "long-term relationship." Which I interpreted as men who want to be married again. Which is sweet, I guess. It's men who have had good marriages, I've read, that are looking for it again. But I guess I'm still relationship cynical, because I interpreted their desire for ever-after as "taking care of me forever" and I am not interested in that role. Again. Ever.
At this point, I like the relationship one of my colleagues has. Ten years of trips together, meals and conversation (and, I assume, the regular overnight.) But they maintain separate homes and enjoy plenty of independent time.
Which, right now, I live for.
I admit, it would be nice to have someone to connect with by text frequently. It's been years but I still miss holding hands and sitting shoulder to shoulder. Eyes meeting over a private joke, or the raised eyebrow over a shared incredulity.
I just don't miss it enough to participate in something that twisted my gut with its underlying sadness.