Juliet without Romeo

Recently, my co-worker asked me if I had given up on men. I could not respond initially. My mouth was open and my mind was formulating thoughts but I couldn’t speak. I liken it to a puppy tilting their head to the side as if to process what you just said. In the time it took for my head to straighten from its tilt, my mind raced through several new scenarios in my “no sex in the big city” love life. If I was a movie critic and my love life was a comedy, it probably would receive 3 ½ out of 4 stars but I didn’t find anything comedic about her question or my current state of non bliss. Yet, with a smile, I replied, “Not just yet!” Unbeknown to her, I had mentally reviewed the past 12 months of letdowns in approximately 3.5 seconds and at the end I even had to chuckle.

In the early parts of last year a long lost love contacted me via Facebook. I hadn’t been in touch with him since I was 16 years old. I was excited to talk to him again because although we spent endless hours on the phone and hanging out, we never actually consummated the relationship. We conversed for several hours and he informed me that he was acting in a play downtown. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity for us to reconnect. I would get to watch him on stage and see if the feelings I once harbored for him were still alive. The night of the play, I was fierce. Stilettos, tight jeans and shirt hanging off one shoulder…needless to say I was quite sexy and felt very confident he would love the older, sexier woman. I was correct about his reaction but not so on point with my own. After the play, we met in the lobby as he greeted the play’s attendees. I greeted him with my stellar smile and a warm, sensual hug. I felt him tighten his grip as we hugged and knew instantly that I had him. Now the days and weeks following the play had me quite puzzled. He would make comments about our embrace as though it was not mutual and I was coming on to him. Is he for real? He would ask me if I was coming over to have a couple cocktails at his place but never did he once offer to take me out on a date. Once I reached my irritation threshold, I realized that he was scared. I finally called him on his fears and he admitted he was not as bold as he wanted to portray. Unsurprisingly, we haven’t talked much since then.

Since I hadn’t talked to him in over twenty years, I was not too upset that our late night chats had subsided. Keeping it moving, I met a guy at a club one night while celebrating a friend’s birthday. As I was perusing the club looking for my girlfriend, he stopped me, we chatted and I gave him my number. I gave it no further thought until he called the next day. We talked for almost 2 hours about ourselves and it was such an enjoyable conversation. He was very impressed with my love and knowledge of sports and I was equally impressed with his job, car, home and no children. I felt confident after the conversation and looked forward to possibly seeing him again. However, in true “no sex in the big city” fashion he never called me again. Something I have unfortunately grown too accustomed to.

In uncustomary fashion, I was set up by a couple girlfriends not too long after that encounter. I truly think it was out of pity but they claim that they just thought we might enjoy each other’s company. Now this scenario is hilarious. At thirty-seven, running out of time and options, you step outside of your comfort zone, box or whatever you want to call it when it comes to dating. The pickings are slim so you try your luck. He made first contact by way of text. I was extremely busy during this time and didn’t much mind the text. So following his lead, I text him back and this method of conversation continued until the late hours of the night. During the several hour textathalon, I found out that he was 45 and had a 23 year old son. Now, I have never dated someone that much older than myself but I figured If I stepped outside of my proverbial “box” than I might stumble upon the man of my dreams. It seemed like a possible great romance novel unfolding, but it was more like a Greek tragedy. Can you believe that three months later this 45 year old man was still texting me? Are you fucking kidding me? For some odd reason, this fool never once called. Through our text conversations, I gathered that he was shy. By now, the ice was not only broken but turned from an iceberg into a geyser. When I finally addressed the issue of my annoyance, he had the nerve to say, “I thought that is how you wanted to communicate!” Dude, you cannot be serious!! How the hell are you supposed to get to know someone through texting? At the age of 37, I have no time for games and refused to continuously entertain his text play.

On my 37th birthday, I celebrated at a club with some of my nearest and dearest friends. However, there was no beau in sight. Not at the pre-party, the main event or the after party….nowhere. I was supposed to be happy but happiness was the furthest thing from my thoughts. When the lights come on and it’s time to go home, the party may continue for everyone else but I would not be partaking in the drunken sexual festivities. I searched through my mental rolodex to see if there was anyone that I would even deem a booty call. Since I was stumped, I even scrolled through my phone from A to Z and I was SOL!!! Not even my ex-ex-ex could satisfy the urge I was feeling at this time in my life. I was badly in need of some meat. The fat round kind usually stuffed in a casing…if you get my drift. I’ve tried E-Harmony, Match.com, Tagged, My Space, Facebook and the pity “hook-up” and still came up dry…literally!! I found myself drunk, naked and laying across my bed mumbling, “O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?”