I might accidentally be looking for the ideal woman. Putting my power into some image of beauty, fitness, and compassion that doesn’t exist except in my mind. That’s not a problem, the imagining, it’s the seeking of the actual idea that might be more problematic.
Is it any wonder that the 35 yo women on Match.com look better to me than the ones my age? Is a 45 yo beauty going to be interested in me? And why do the women my age, well, look older than my age? Do women age differently? Do we have different standards by which we rate men and women? Should I even be rating women, rather than trying to get to know them?
Attraction is the juice, though, that keeps me going. I’m actually kind of bored with online dating. I know the women I’m trying to reach out to have hundreds of emails just like mine every week. So I’m slowing my roll way down.
- I don’t really enjoy browsing women;
- There are not many new women, so it’s the same faces over and over;
- I’m enjoying my alone time immensely;
- My life situation is not really conducive to having a girlfriend.
Still, I’m drawn by the possibility of my ideal. I see her in fleeting glimpses on the dating sites. She’s young, fit, smiling, and doesn’t have time for me. We’re not a fit, even if I think I could do wonders for her.
So, is it healthy for me to keep looking? I think so. I think building and rebuilding my idea of my next mate is a good exercise, even if she’s months, years off. I know a lot more now than I did in entering into my last relationship, and those lessons are also keeping me a bit tentative about rushing into a new dating situation. I say I’m in no hurry. I say I’m keeping my sights realistic, but it’s SO BORING.
Focusing on an ideal woman is a bit of an issue, don’t you think? I messaged a woman the other day, 47, and even her online name was an issue: something about MissTexasEx, as if she were a former beauty star. I can see it. I can imagine her winning. And I can imagine her falling in love with me and all my hot mess creative maelstrom. (Um, yeah, right.) And actually, I can’t. I didn’t expect her to respond. She didn’t. I was playing around. She was/is out of my league, or really out of my range. I’m not that interested in a 47 yo fitness guru. I don’t think we’d have much to talk about. So why did I message her?
While it’s hard to let go of an ideal, it’s also fun to play around with “what ifs.” And given the preference, wouldn’t we all really rather be with someone super attractive? Now, the answer to that question is the most troubling for me. I’m not sure I want a beauty queen for a mate. I think uber-beauty comes with its own problems. I’ve met some beautiful women who were actually a bit neurotic about their looks. One women offered, “My looks are all I have,” when I met her for the first time. Sure, she’d been drinking, but you could tell this sentiment bothered her. I tried to reassure her. There was nothing to be done. And there was no connection, no matter how gorgeous she was.
Did the great beauties have too easy a ride in the early years? Did daddy spoil them to the point of dependence? Have their looks allows them to coast about in the being-nice-and-compassionate-to-others department? I remember a woman I was infatuated with in my 20’s who I invited to go waterskiing with me in the early mornings before work. She accepted and I was overjoyed just to have her around. But after a while, I was a little disillusioned. She never once offered to help pay for gas or clean up the boat after a run. She just waved and went on to work. “Hm,” I thought. “I guess that’s who she is.”
So, I have to admit I have a bit of a hangup about beautiful women. I think I would have to do my own soul searching to be with someone approaching the “model” look. Would they be tempted by the limitless offers they received from limitless other men with limitless resources? Would they deal with growing old in a confident and rational manner? Would their workout and beauty routines eventually drive me bonkers? Or am I reading too much into this?
Again, what is beauty? I know we are being fed “beautiful” images by the media. Often thin, tanned, with some radiant happiness that is captured through lighting, or the camera, or the clothes, or the makeup. But that beauty is magic. It’s not real. When you see the celebrities without their makeup, a bit of the illusion comes falling down. But still, I strive to catch a glimpse of these women. I imagine being given the opportunity to make love to one of them. And then I think how insecure I would probably feel around them. I’m not sure I’m up for it.
Yet, MissTexasEx still got a very nice romantic invitation to chat. And I’m sure that thread will never be picked up. I’m okay with that. For a moment, while I was writing her and admiring her yoga poses, I was in relationship with her. As close as I’m going to get, anyway. And I walked away feeling complete. I had woven my micro fantasy of us getting coffee, her finding me irresistible, and on we go. And sometime, today, I’ll probably open one of the two dating sites I’m still on, just to browse. And yes, it’s fun to look at the younger women. And yes, I realise I’m looking for a needle in a haystack: attractive to me, finds me attractive, available, emotionally intelligent, and we spark together. But without venturing out there, I’m going to continue sitting here looking at pictures of what might be, could be, but won’t be.
You’ve gotta get out there to get over yourself. It’s in the relating to a real woman in a real setting that things might become interesting. I’m not sure MissTexasEx and I would have much to talk about.
image: blade runner promo image, creative commons usage