It’s very cold in here.
Wonder why you just can’t get that fella off your mind? Here’s why:
Already a generational gap taking place with my online dating capers. Yes, I am on match.com. Yes, I am on OkCupid. How else am I to meet these younger somethings wanting to date “cougars”? What’s a cougar? Well according to the Urban Dictionary, a cougar is:
An older woman who frequents clubs in order to score with a much younger man. The cougar can be anyone from an overly surgically altered wind tunnel victim, to an absolute sad and bloated old horn-meister, to a real hottie or milf. Cougars are gaining in popularity — particularly the true hotties — as young men find not only a sexual high, but many times a chick with her s*t together.
Could I actually be a cougar? I hope not.
But I have had 3 different under thirty-somethings ask me to take my shirt off in front of the web cam this week. I picture them with dozens of open windows charming old ladies like myself on chat sights into doing something they will, no doubt, regret later.
But we’re vulnerable dammit. And having a 28 year old tell you you’re beautiful is stuff of conversations with your other over-40 somethings over a glass of wine while chatting on Skype, later in the eve. We’re actually charmed until we find that we almost fell for it. Grrrr…
On a more sober note, where are their boundaries, people? I don’t recall being part of this when I was 28. But then again, we didn’t have social networking on little computers when I was 28. Back then, I was still accessing my email via UNIX commands from a “computer center” and living in a tipi.
We are constantly on the edge of defining new rules to go along with this new technology. And the fact of the matter is, there are no rules, there is no manual. These younger ones are constantly pushing it, seeing what they can get away with next. And I’m going along with it. Why? Because I have no ideas what the rules are either. One hundred years from now, once they all have chips embedded in their heads, they will look back on all of this and say, “Can you believe that the Internet was actually legal at one point?”
I’m sitting in my car waiting for the light to turn, when I glance over to a smallish white yard sign presented on a grassy island between a Super Target and a Taco Bell. As it is, I just love being stuck in traffic right in the middle of corporate hell. I’m embarrassed actually. Embarrassed that I sometimes give in to purchasing items from corporations that were manufactured, no doubt, by a 6 year old who has no shoes, and shipped from as close as 10,000 miles away.
Perhaps I can drive away before someone (including myself) notices me here amongst the other corporate worshipers.
But when I come across this cute little gesticulation, I just can’t decide which embarrasses me most: my aforementioned consumption choices or the affirmative answer I must give to the question it is asking me.
My first thoughts are defensive. ‘Ummmmm, yeah!’, I think. Is there a problem with this? Did you know that 51% of the adults in the country are single? (These are statistics I heard somewhere, so they must be true)
This little sign then offers me a website that I may visit should I want to overcome this state that I have gotten myself into. Now I have to take pause for a moment and consider the implications behind this. According to this sign, (and to western society) being single is not where a person wants to be. In fact, we are told that being single is a symptom of something that we must remedy. Think of it as a terrible disease, if you will.
“Leprosy?” “KillLeprosy. COM”.
Now for those who have Leprosy, please do not take offense that I have put you in the same league as a single person. I HAVE NOT. My point is, we’re both stigmatized. We’re both plagued. But yours is curable.
Is mine? There are no guarantees! Many people die lonely deaths in a room with tiny windows, a hot plate and unused Folgers single-serving coffee bags. Will this be me? Will it be you?
I will say this: I refuse to believe, if I do end up being without a partner for the rest of my life, that it will be bleak. As my old colleague Anita used to say, “There are worse things than being alone.”
Yes there are Anita.