One year

I've just signed up for a rather expensive matchmaking service.  They have one year of my life (and a lot of my money) to find me a match.  It's going to take three different people to get me dating apparently:  A Dating Specialist, a Dating Director, and a Dating Coach.  I'm already intimidated.  I have roughly six million thoughts rushing through my head at the moment.  I may not even share this blog with anyone but I need to get these ideas out before my brain bursts.

One year.  I feel like I am venturing on some kind of worldly expedition.  When really, I won't be leaving the state of Pennsylvania.  Grant me strength.  All of the fears of dating will be amplified because I'll have to be truthful after each date and report in.  Then, and even more unnerving, I'll get feedback.  About me. Who wants to hear that they are a loser?  Or physically not up to par?  Or that they are boring? 

Two days ago (technically since it is after midnight), I answered an hour's worth of questions.  And a lightbulb moment came to me.  When asked about past relationships and qualities that I didn't like about him, a common thread appeared.  I wasn't a priority.  In hindsight, I never felt like I came first.  I say that now- I'm sure there were fleeting moments when I felt important.  As an educated woman, I should be able to do something with that vital piece of information.  Damn if I know.

I'd be all set if I could read a book, then study all the right answers and take a test.  I would rock that. I'll let you in on a secret.  It's a secret you don't even consider until you're at least 32 and single.  There. Is. No. Book.  I'm beginning to think, there aren't really right answers either.  It's like a cruel joke and somewhere a deity of dating is laughing her ass off.

I'm 42 years old and I have my shit together.  I own my house, my car, have a fabulous job for which I thank my lucky stars each day and my family loves me.  I have great friends.  I've tried to fill the void with many things. I've joined some direct sales companies to try to fill my time and get me out of the house a bit.  I've tried more community activities.  The beagle rescue thanks me, but all it's gotten me is the self-proclaimed title of "Crazy Dog Lady".

Truth be told, I am a catch. Well, except for the sarcasm.  And the delusions of grandeur. But after many cycles of trying to date, not wanting to date, trying some more, feeling repulsed by the thought of it, here I am. I've tried internet dating, speed dating, asking everyone I knew to set me up (no one even bit at that one), chat rooms to meet people, and even an odd sort of phone dating thing where you left messages for people and they could leave messages for you (about 15 years ago, lord help me).  So yes, I've tried it all.  And here I am.  And I'm giving it one year.