Tag Archives: dating

To date or not to date? is that a kitten…

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Over the last few weeks I seem to have attracted a great many comments about my lack of interest in dating. I spent a great deal of my time in relationships that provided memories of pants (not in a good way) and thought that I was happy on the single shelf looking out at the world of relationships content that I was not going to pursue anything at this time, but then this happens…

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Baby Stan the cat was born, he still lives with his mummy but as soon as I mentioned that I was going to be the proud owner of a third cat I became bombarded with strange pictures, comments and pitying looks. Heck my son even turn to me and said “Mum you need to start dating”!

So in five weeks time Stan will be moving in, this I have been informed is now or never on the dating calendar of my life. God forbid that I do not marry before the age of forty, I shall not of course end up on the shelf I shall self combust in a fluffy ball of discarded cat hair. Who exactly decided that forty is the golden age by which we must be tied to our life partner till death separates us and all that remains are kittens and mourning? And Why? oh Why? Is being single and without a plus one such an affliction? These questions have been spiralling in my head along with one other ….

Why is this bothering me? I have started assessing dating potential in the men I meet… It happened all of a  sudden, this chap was wearing a great shirt we chatted and in my head I had begun to list reasons NOT to date him, we had only just met there was no indication of a potential date but no Becs brain hits overdrive and rules him out – no woman can consider dating a man that raises his pinky drinking from a pint glass can she?

Great shirt man was just the start.  Last evening I ended up in conversation with someone who kindly informed me that I am “not bad looking” so at my age I should consider the younger man, a curve ball that hit me in the side of the head it was so unexpected. Oh yes because most of the men my age are taken or passed it… I do not think that is what he ment in this observation but really me a cougar I don’t think I could.

Through all of this, Stan’s moving in date has been set and as long as weaning goes well he should arrive home in 5 weeks. I have been badgered and cajoled teased and tormented at my ongoing single status, my resistance to change this might (this is a big might) have been eroded slightly. Have I succumb to the will of the masses? not at all. Am I going to end up the mad cat lady in the purple hat ? probably.

But just incase, to give me options if you know of a tall, single, good looking chap, who has great arms, a fabulous sense of humour, endless patience an ability to iron and is between 35 and 45 in age perhaps just… I might think about it.

S.O.S … seeing the best, simply taking it slow or staying single.

Yes I begin this post with an S.O.S for to blog on gratitude as part of the April A to Z is substantially more difficult than one could assume! So many options, so many hurdles to overcome. Do I post from the heart and sod the consequence of purging my soul to the blogosphere?
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Shooting from the hip, jumping in with both feet, acting first and then seeing what the outcome is. I wish I didn’t but hey we all have flaws. To shoot from the hip can and does often backfire. But I always speak the truth, take people as I find them not as rumour suggests and try to see the best in those I meet. So should I be grateful for these qualities? Perhaps, I shall let you be the judge.

The last time I dated, I offered a disclaimer. I “specialise in shit” my date bless him did not know what to say to that so I explained. “I see the best in people, sometimes that is great, but when you mix that with my stubbornness I seem to end up in the shitty situations clearing up the mess.” Sarcasm was identified and fortunately he was able to laugh at my satirical appraisal of my dating history. I don’t mean to pigeon-hole my past, but for easy of tale telling there was; the gambler, the man-slut, the alcoholic, the bully, the liar and then the painful optimist.

Now as a specialist in dating failures I did not want this lovely funny man to think he would be the next on the list in my own personal disaster zone. The truth is I have survived, I chose to become involved with these people because I saw the best in them. Sadly focusing on this stopped me from seeing the worst until one or both of us was too involved and well people get hurt in the fall out from the failed relationship it is inevitable. So we talked we laughed we smiled, we shared our thoughts and histories and we took things slow, things didn’t work out but hey we shared some fun and still think of each other with fondness.

Single life is simpler, so you would think. I am grateful for the time and the freedom I have as a single girl (yes mother I know). I have not dated in over a year and feel no inclination to do so. Should I upset the status quo? I’ll just go with the flow.

I spoke to Swedeling about my S post. I was stuck, swamped with suggestions and endeavouring to produce something worth reading, “sing alongs” were suggested and hey to be fair I am grateful for those. The sport of Wisk singing should be in the Olympics as far as I am concerned. One evening we  shared a top-notch Abba fest in Swedeling’s new flat. The kitchen window had been open as the three of us, the Swede, her hubster and I belted out S.O.S at 9pm powered by beer and giggles. Surprisingly the next morning my dear friends’ neighbours thought we were an Abba tribute of sorts and she suggested that we were “professionals practicing”.

Silliness keeps us going when the serious side of life takes it toll, or so I like to think. The A to Z posts have led to a great deal of reflection for me. There have been many tears shed over my 36 years on the planet but these are cast into the shadows by the smiles, so far I have survived! For each of my dating disasters there is gratitude, each taught me lesson, made me stronger, each had their redeeming qualities. I am sad that at times I should have walked away or ran for the hills, but the stubborn me stayed to fix things until the reality of the situation was undeniable.

I am unsure why this became my S of choice, perhaps today became a day to purge my thoughts to see what was going on in my head. I might be a specialist in shit, but I have chosen a new path if that means walking alone then so be it. Sadly this is the end of the S post, so I shall bid you good cheer till tomorrow I am pleased to see myself as a strong person, I am grateful for the smiles and the singing, So I might have dealt with some shit along the way but haven’t we all so today I am pleased I am still standing, still smiling, still single.

Do it myself

It all comes out in the wash.

Yesterday was labelled a good day, I made the most of my positivity by sharing the day with friends, drinking coffee and putting the world to rights. Oh how close companions can debate the facts as they are seen, how we can share an opinion, tell one another the truth as we see it.

I cherish my friendships and probably do not tell my friends often enough how much they mean to me. Between them and my family I am surrounded by walking reminders of my good fortune, even in times of need, times of discomfort.

Today, as I loaded up the washing machine I pulled the dark from the lights, checked the pockets for the remaining tissues that always seem to be forgotten. I mulled over some of the natters that we shared the day before. Words passed between friends can sometimes haunt thoughts, for you know, if a friend has taken the time to tell you this, they the least you should do is examine the why. I shut the door on the washer; tipped in the powder and mulled over “being stuck in a rut” I am living a “safe life” and not challenging myself.

Outside it might be cold but the sun shines down and this near spring breeze will dry the washing. Inside I mull over the choices I made and make, the places I opt to visit and the people who bring so much to the way I live. Am I stuck in a rut? I suppose I play safe now, I found a home and routine that I fear changing. Is comfort making me complacent?

During yesterdays conversation there was much emphasis on me meeting someone, having someone that I can rely on to be part of a partnership. It has been a while since I last dated, but the inclination to “get back out there” is not something I feel. Does society dictate the need to date and to couple up? It is indeed an expectation that my mate expressed to me, for I “deserve to find someone and to be happy”. Why do some friends feel my life is incomplete without an “other half”.

Yet here I am on Good Friday, watching the laundry tumble in the machine quite content in the silence and solitude of my home. Next week will bring a new chapter of my life, a new job, a new focus. I can manage without the distractions of dating to be sure.

So now from the safety of my rut I peer into the unknown, the one thing I can be certain of, my friends while we may not always agree speak with honest intentions and challenge me to be me. What more could I ask. Perhaps someone to assist in re-hanging the curtains in the lounge, to put up the shelves in the kitchen, or a book that explains how I can “Do it myself”.