Dating midlife crisis
The idea of being close emotionally or physically with someone — anyone — was far too unsettling.
I said no, thank you, to any offers but took the compliment they extended and that was all I needed for a while.
Because New Year’s Eve could produce the apocalypse for teenage sons.
I can take a long weekend, but I need to go home Sunday night because I have to throw in a load of laundry and drive someone to school from my own home the next morning.
Sometimes we do not want to be the only one to take out the garbage and drive to the store.
I loved him for who he was, but mostly for who he was not. I liked being able to relinquish control, even if just in the restaurant ordering wine. But here is the thing, and here is what so many men miss: Women who are charged with doing it all — women like me who care for children and sometimes elderly parents and homes and careers — sometimes we want to do one less thing.One of my favorite writers commented: “I am SO impressed that you were someone’s midlife crisis!” My heart swelled a little in my chest because I remembered exactly what it was like to be the woman in my twenties in love with a man in his forties.I was predictable; I didn’t bring home any threats to their homeland security. It was easier to go to bed early, wake up early and get on with my day.I also had hundreds of papers to grade, articles to file for magazines and newspapers, books to research and write. “He was so boring,” I told Dana, my former college roommate, on the phone after a nice date with a nice man who was nice looking.I had to give speeches and go to conferences and meetings. “I think he went through his entire day minute by minute in chronological order.” “Oh, honey,” Dana said. You just forgot.” There were men I met in airports, on airplanes or in shared cabs when I traveled for work. Not that I am all that flirty, but I answer them, even if I know the question about where are the sundried tomatoes is just a ruse.A man on a plane sitting in the row behind me and the boys — on our one and only trip to Disney World, because honest to God who in her right mind would go back — asked for my card and if I wanted to go out for a drink once back in Chicago. Still, meeting someone who was worth taking a risk on was nearly impossible. A few weeks ago, I published a funny piece about my ex-husband accusing me of a mid-life “problem” when I suddenly went blonde.I ended it with the twisted reminder I was his midlife crisis twenty-five years before.Staying out of the game was also about more than not wanting to waste my spare time. It was cleaner, less dangerous, less fussy, and it definitely made me less insecure. I spent so many years without romance, filling up my life with my children and my work and every detail to keep it all afloat, and my needs receded.It was about my ability to trust someone, anyone outside my immediate family. It was not even noticeable at first; I stopped wanting and figured that wasting my time mourning the loss of real affection was like ranting at a sunset or a rainstorm. Then in the summer of 2004, I suspended my fears and disbelief and waded slowly into a relationship with a man who was completely unlike my former husband.