Unlucky in Love and the Pitfalls of Dating

Everyday I read on-line advice for the lovelorn. Sometimes I snicker at Prudie on Slate and toss in some sarcastic on Slate's posting page. Today I observed on MSN, a list of all things not to do on a date. I have done all of the above. Men run. When I go out to have fun and a few laughs this is what I get.

"Why don't you have babies? What's wrong with you?" Acutally I am tired of the question. I never really liked rug rats. I put a man through 8 years of college and then paid for his business. That was some time back. Now I have the perfect answer, "I had a hysterectomy." Sometimes I am so sick of the question I want to say, "I had four children but I lost custody after selling them into child prostitution." All things being equal having children does not define my sexuality or instincts to protect children and nurture people." I wonder why this guy is obsessing about children. I already said I don't have any. Actually, I never had time, I put a man through medical school and worked two jobs for 10 years. I also taught school, I want to have my young adulthood over again.

"So you are divorced, why did your marriage fail?" This one is so common from nearly total strangers I continue to gasp at their Neanderthal thought processes.
"So who are you to grade my marriage, are you the marriage professor. Can I get an A on divorce course?" He had other sexual relationships, this isn't what I want to tell you, because if I do you will ask me if I have ever tried various sex aides. Hey bud, I don't need sex toys, videos, practice, he needed something cheap and easy for his inferiority complexes.

"Why haven't you settled down? What is a gorgeous, talented and sweet person like you doing single?" The fact is I am widowed. My second husband died tragically after we were married just four months. I don't even like to address the subject, it still hurts. "I am happy exploring my freedom," my usual response bring us to "Don't you care about anyone but yourself?" Yeah. I care. I care so much I am still masking the pain by a frenzied round of activities to fill in time.

Finally, one gentleman came to visit a house I shared with a friend. He looked around and said, "You are really spoiled." What did that mean. I don't live in a public housing project? I wear nice clothes, I have good shoes? The reality is that I share accomodations because my low paying job won't cover rent in a decent neighborhood and I have no car. I can't afford one. I ride the bus and subway.

What ever happened to, let's watch a movie, go to a museum, take a ride on the tour boat at the Marina, stop in the coffee shop for some live guitar, explore the festival this weekend. What ever happened to telling a few jokes? What's the deal, you want my blood type? So I am divorced once and widowed once and don't have children because I had a hysterectomy. I am young, beautiful, attended college for 8 years, work in retail until I can find a better job, and none of this is really necessary. Ask me how I liked living overseas, ask me about the wonderful Micronesian children I taught in school, ask me about what it was like growing up overseas where my parents worked. Want to know about my background? What does my previous illness and heartbreak have to do with what I am.

I want to know why this guy who gave me a ride home after my friends and I went out for drinks and they decided to stay until closing thinks this entitles him to rub my boobs. Get off! What do you think I want a motorcycle repairman jumping on me at my parents house ? That one wasn't even drinking. I went to college for 8 years, pool is not my thing, I don't like football.

I want to know why the professional men I date (both my spouses and I were professional until I took a risk, packed my suitcase and moved across country for a chage of scenery) want to let me know how much money they have on our first date. So great, you're rich, I am pinching pennies. Why are you telling me this?
I asked you to suggest the meal at your favorite restaurant. I didn't ask for your ATM card and no, I haven't been here before but I don't think I want to come back because the waiter asked four times where Susan is tonight. Are you married, Gosh, what a lie. I don't date married men. Who are you, so special that you think
I sympathize with you marital problems, and will go to bed with you for a steak dinner. Geez, tofu never looked so good. By the way, you are messing with my reputation here. So don't wonder why I went out the back door after salad and never came back.

Then of course, I thought I found Mr. Right. He was just a friend. We had some laughs. He didn't seem particularly disturbed over my history, until it intimidated him to death. I had the degree, the international background, the low wage job must have been my turn on. I wasn't a threat at first. He lives at home with Mommy, so imagine she has intimidated him a lot. We were going to be married this fall, I couldn't pay the rent, he was leaving Mom's house where he recuperated after surgery, so I came home to my parents to save money and buy the wedding dress. It is hanging in the closet. Mom doesn't think I am the right girl for him. Yep. I am no girl, Babe, I am a woman and your son is a Mama's boy.

I think I really need a monogamous ex-hippie with a cool apartment and a regular paycheck. Looking for a guy with friends, guitar, some wine and enough contacts to help me find a job.
What are you looking for?