Saturday, October 29, 2016

Chronicles of a Baby Boomer - Dating

We are attracted to people because they are attracted to us. Circular reasoning, eh? It's visceral, OK? It's sex. Male. Female. Hormones. Pheromones. What else? We want a mate. We want a partner. Someone we can play around with and feel satisfied by and hang onto with kisses and passion and whatever tools evolution gave us to hang onto a mate. What's wrong with that? Not a thing.

But, guess what? After the sex we have the choice. To stick around with the person we just had sex with and let our non-sex lives coexist with theirs or go away. Or, in the old days, the female bit the head off the male and used his protein for egg production. It was a very efficient system. In many ways superior to our own.

So now. Since I'm no longer in college and am too old for the matchmaker, I go on dating sites. There are tons of them. And sometimes I  date people. Though not often anymore. Not a lot of prospects. Not a lot of winners. Though I'm one to talk. I have no idea what they want. Or what I want. I'm too old for this.

So what do I want? A girl. An amazing sex partner, sure. Why not? A friend. Of course. Someone to go to bed with me at night with lust in her body and wake up in the morning with druel on her chin. And race me to the bathroom. Better make it two. Don't want to trip. And gurgle over coffee and stumble over the day's plans. And gladly greet the day in our own ways. And then come back at night. Lovers and fastest buds. A pragmatist. A comedian. A buddy. A friend. Did I mention the sex part?

So. What am I looking for, exactly. A perfect girl? One that's sexy in the evening, pleasant in the morning, and intellegent all day round? Great. Order one up right now, why don't you? Get real. No such creature exists. I'm certainly not anything like that. I don't expect more.

I am attracted to women and fancy that one or two of them might be attracted to me. So there. I'm human. I want to date someone who might want to date me back. By date, I mean go somewhere together; a park, a restaurant, a city by the bay, a street in the suburb with a remarkable restaurant, and maybe a walk, hand in hand, in the central park. By the river. Two people who are out sharing a moment. Not expecting anything more. But wondering if they might want to share something more. And not certain. Not sure. But wish and hope they could. And that's grand. And that's exciting. And that's...

I want you! Oh, I wish to want you! Though mostly we don't.. I think. Do you wish to want me? We're both thinking it... Isn't it grand? Maybe? Don't pretend. When you date, you're thinking about sex, too. We all are. So what do you think?

No sex required. Well, not at first. Let's face it. We date because we want a partner to have sex with. There's no shame in that. It's quite natural. It's quite nice, actually. It's quite. Well, human. Sure. We want someone we can play with who is not a jerk. That's secondary. A close second. But you wouldn't go on a trip to Aruba with someone who you thought wasn't a good lay.

An expectation. A hope. The all in all. The want of body for body. The joining of two bodies in play and fun and acrobatics that equals joy. The touch of love. That which can be most inclusive or brutally one sided. The first one we call love. The last one we call rape. Why do we have rape? It's because sex is so intimate, so familiar. The violation of it is so monstrous. It's not just a body rape. It's a soul rape. And that is a rape of the whole community. A violation of everyone.

Of course, in all relationships there is that hint of the most intimate of encounters. When I ask a woman out on a date, I'm not just saying, Let's go exploring! I'm saying, Let's go have some fun together and explore each other, a little bit. Maybe, while we have dinner or walk a canyon or get ice cream, we can each look at a little bit of each other's psyche. Our souls. And see the undergrowth! Check the verge. Glean the parts. Well, the parts we're willing to expose. Which aren't usually very many. It's hard to open up when you're so insecure.  When you're trying to be on your best side! And trying to find out as much as you can about your partner. Your date. And wishing. Wishing. Wishing it works out. Wishing you could ask for a second date. Wondering, Is this OK? Is there a future? And you give a little bit of you. And she gives a little bit of her. And you probe each other. And you learn. And you want more.

Such is dating.

Every flirt carries a hint of love. And a hint of rape. And a hint of mutual consent. And a hint of wanting what we can't have. And a hint of regret. And, sadly, a hint of wanting to do it again. For this time we will be conquerors. This time we will succeed. Though mostly we don't.

And Sadness. Or hope?

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