Scar Tissue

I know. I've been seriously negligent in my blogging duties. It is probably because the whole dating experiment didn't exactly go as planned.  There was the aforementioned psycho and then there was a whole lot of nothing. Well, interject the reappearance of a couple of ex-boyfriends that show up periodically like cold sore before a first date; but for the most part, nothing. Perhaps it was because I was a little unnerved by bachelor #1, but really I think my failed attempts in the world of on line dating can be summed up in two words. Scar tissue. Yes, I'm going to elaborate. Why the hell else would I be writing?

Do you know how many single girlfriends I have over 30?  Not even over 30, but over 35? More than I ever thought I would. And do you know how many I would say are an undeniable catch? Every single one of them.  I know some phenomenal women. They are beautiful, funny, intelligent, successful, strong and yes, a little bit damaged. Biologically, I don't think we were meant to be alone for this long.  Women's lib, God bless it, has afforded us the luxury of choices, and experiences and unlimited options.  It's a wonderful world we live in.  But, it can be lonely.  And those experiences and choices don't always make for happy endings.  In fact, I think what has made us so strong is the starting over, the rebuilding that we have to do after every failed attempt at redefining happily ever after. Despite our toughness we still fall victim to emotional bullets. The failed relationships, the first time you hear a family member say "IF you have have kids" instead of "WHEN you have kids", the well meaning friends who tell you that you "haven't changed a bit" as they plan their next family vacation are gut shots. But we sew up our wounds and they heal. Scar tissue.  The next time, it hurts less. The bullet doesn't quite hit it's mark. You don't cry when a relationship ends, the comments roll off your back and the thought of not being a mom doesn't give you an anxiety attack anymore.  Scar tissue.  The problem is, I'm starting to think scar tissue doesn't just keep out the pain.  It doesn't let the good in either.

I can barely remember the last time I was twitterpated. I mean truly stupid about someone. I used to love that silly, smitten feeling.  Who doesn't? At the same time, it's been just as long since I've felt that gut wrenching pain that comes form letting go of a person, or what you thought that person represented. I'm not numb, but I'm not quit vulnerable anymore. So maybe this whole dating experiment was destined to fail. How are you supposed to find love when you are too war weary and hardened to be open to the joys and pains you might experience in the falling? 

In writing this, I don't want you to think that I'm saying  my single sisters of a certain age and I are unhappy. We have each other, good food, good times and more importantly, good wine. Nor should you believe we have given up on our version of the fairy tale.  But behind these successful confident woman who can clearly take care of themselves are battle hardened vets. Tough, scarred and more than a little bit jaded, but still waiting for a cupid packing enough heat to score more than a flesh wound.