Back in the Saddle


Heeeeeere we go. Again.

I’m getting back on that damn horse. I’m going to a Singles Night. I haven’t been out with a man since last May. I’m over being single.

But, still – yikes, Scoob!

It’s not a sleazy, POF singles night at a shitty bar, it’s a nice one. I’m tired of being single, but I’m just not meeting anyone! Much as I love the folks at my church, they’re mostly either elderly, married or gay, or some combination of the three that makes them unsuitable as potential partners. Friends, yes. Partners – nary a one in sight. And, much as I love my work – I TALK TO ACCUSED CRIMINALS ALL DAY (I say accused because there’s not a guilty man at CECC, you know)! Oh, and I also talk to people who are in the middle of horrible breakups. I don’t need to be a revenge rebound for some emotionally scarred, bitter person. Nope.

I’m a little long in the tooth for the bar crowd, too. I was at a bar with some younger friends the other night, and while I had a lovely time, it was a much younger crowd, and I felt just a little cougarish. For fun with friends – good times. For meeting potential dates – not so good.

I was, however, introducted to a woman who is a friend of friends who runs a local introduction service. “We’re having an over-forty singles night on the 13th! You should come out!”

Well, it’s a nicer place, and I don’t have to worry about being a cougar. Being a cougar doesn’t much appeal to me anyway. I enjoy the company of young people very much, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to date one.

Thanks to a number of factors, not the least of which was some kind words from a dear old friend a while ago, I think I’m ready. Feeling good about myself physically and mentally, and more than emotionally ready to start over again.

How many times will I start over until I get it right?

As many as it takes, baby. If you want to win, you’ve got to play. There’s someone for everyone, but you don’t find them sitting at home. And much as I love you, internet, you’re not for me when it comes to dating. Scary, bitter people in baseball hats just don’t do it for me. I’m gonna need a little more than than.

This sounds like an occasion for my new bra. I’ve bought a ticket. Any advice is gratefully appreciated.


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