A Solitary Existence

I like to think of myself as brave and strong and independent.

That independent part should probably be first. None of us are truly independent, of course, but some of us pretend harder than others. That’s not what I came here to write about though.

The thing is… romantic relationships. I’m not good at them? Of course, I really haven’t had much practice. And I’m not good at trusting (most) people with my real feelings, and I’m bad at acknowledging that I have needs, let alone insisting that they be met.

But also – I’m tough to match, I guess? Three long-term (romantic) relationship in 53 years is not a lot! And none of those could be considered a good relationship. I’ve had several other… crushes? interludes? with men that I thought would be great matches, but nothing came of those. And I can’t remember the last time I clicked with someone.

Okay, that’s a lie, of course I remember. I mean, IT HARDLY EVERY HAPPENS. That makes it VERY MEMORABLE. But – obviously – that didn’t work out (there has to be romantic interest on BOTH sides).

And the thing is, I’m not getting any easier to match. It seems like the more I grow as a person (and literally just age), the smaller the dating pool is. I can’t remember the last time that mild flirting didn’t end in my blocking/ unfriending. walking away because the dude in question was racist/ sexist/ some other kind of immature bullshit.

I have a good life. I for sure have a better life than my parents had at this age, even with this never-ending COVID mess.

I just wanted it to be good in this other way, too.

_{PS: I am not accepting any dating advice. But if you want to fix me up with someone, let me know. Seriously}