One evening while the tribe was still together, we walked
home from dinner to my house to sip champagne by the fire and girl talk. M’s daughter Chloe was with us—she was 11 or
12 at the time. The girls had been
pushing me to start dating; I was unsure how to go about it after being married
so long. (Our first big night out after
my separation was New Year’s Eve. It was
a fabulous and festive atmosphere at the restaurant, and immediately we were
surrounded by new acquaintances. A
good-natured man with a kind smile approached me and casually inquired, “So, are
you ladies single?” I’m not sure what
happened to my brain in that moment. It
just stopped working. I was frozen in
time, like in one of those movies where everyone freezes but the protagonist,
except in my horror film, everyone kept moving while I was somehow stuck, like
those people who wake up on the operating table but are still paralyzed so
can’t tell the anesthesiologist to put
down the newspaper and notice this awful thing and make it stop happening. A hard thud on the back of my head snapped me
from my trance, as M instructed, “Answer the man!” I literally stumbled through my reply,
“Um…these ladies are!” and somehow magically disappeared into the crowd without
ever looking him in the eye. That’s how
good I was at talking to men. ) As we
lounged on the couches talking and laughing, Chloe sat absorbed with my laptop
by the fire, and asked in her most innocent voice, “A, when is your
birthday?” “October.” “October what?” I answered.
“What year?” “What are you up to,
Chloe?” “Nothing, I’m just
curious.” And a few minutes later, “What
are your favorite hobbies? Do you like
yoga, or horses?” We grabbed the laptop
and there we saw it: my online dating
profile, created by an adorable pre-teen.
At that point the girls forbade its deletion, and the computer was
passed from lap to lap until all the questions were answered and the credit
card info given. It was official: I was going to learn how to date, or else.
So I know this blog is about my search for a tribe, but this
tangent is somewhat relevant, as it was my first time going out and mingling
with the masses: strangers, men of
Orange County, the best and the brightest (I was a pretty good screener). (But before I get there, seriously, what is
up with these user names? I distinctly
remember being emailed by someone named Gluttony3, and I’ve always wondered, who on earth would use that name, and is
there actually a Gluttony 1 and 2?
Also, how is everyone in OC a CEO or CFO? I grew up in Silicon Valley, land of
enormous, successful corporations, where being a CEO or CFO is a huge
deal. You are the elite of the
elite! But here it seems everyone is a
CEO/CFO of a small to mid-range company, or is really just self-employed and using
the title to impress people. Am I the
only one who has noticed this?) While I
could fill a hundred blogs with the tales of my short-lived online dating
escapades (debacles), since this is really about finding connections, I’ll save
that for another time. I haven’t gotten
to The Great Dane: the tall, warm,
well-traveled, multilingual, cultured and slightly difficult to understand
Danish man I met on the site. (Did I
mention he was a CFO? Irrelevant.) I
don’t remember our first date (or many, really), but he was interesting, a good
cook, liked music, and gave great big bear hugs. We spent a lot of time together over the
course of about six weeks. We went for
walks, took long drives to interesting places, shared meals at casual
restaurants in Laguna—he was down to earth and refreshingly straightforward. Except he wasn’t. Over the course of the weeks I began to
wonder (remember, I hadn’t dated in a decade)…when on earth is he going to make
a move? And why isn’t he? Is it
because my boobs are real and he knows without support they might fall down to
my ankles? Am I
weird/boring/flabby/wrinkly/unattractive?
Too damaged/needy/independent/strong-willed? On and on I pondered, for weeks and weeks,
until the Night of the Big Reveal of the Big Secret Thing He Had Been Hiding
From Everyone For Years. Ok, so I
finally understood the lack of chemistry.
But what a great guy.
The Great Dane and I have remained in contact off and on
over time (platonically, of course). We
have wished each other countless Merry Christmases, Happy New Years (always via
text), and have checked in from time to time just to say hello. I decided in my search of finding a new tribe
to reach out to him again, since we have so much in common; not to date, but to
see if I could renew a friendship whose basis was laid many years ago. I find it strange he speaks to me with such
enthusiasm, yet doesn’t return texts in a timely manner (or at all). He says things like, “We should get together
soon,” then doesn’t text for six months.
When we recently had coffee, the conversation was great, but I was met
with a sense of emptiness. His life
feels stalled. He hasn’t had any great
loves, hobbies, or new interests. He
seems to grow more and more disconnected.
I haven’t asked, but I’m guessing he hasn’t addressed his Big Secret Thing
yet, and its enough to cause him to keep everyone at arm’s length, with the
exception of his warm bear hugs, which over time seem less warm and
welcoming. He isn’t alone; I’ve met others
like him, on a very gradual decline toward isolation. I’ve repeatedly extended offers of friendship
(coffee, casual dinner with friends), but there is always a reason to
postpone. And while I initially thought
it was me (I always do), I have come to learn it isn’t. He is one of many who chose to stay
disconnected, and reach out only when convenient, or temporarily safe. I suppose the older we get, the more set in
our ways we become, and for some, the path toward being more and more isolated
seems to become so familiar, the work of moving back toward community with
others eventually becomes daunting.
I’m not sure how long I’ll keep trying. Its rare to find someone who shares my
passion for travel, with a global perspective of politics and humanities. But sadly for me, The Great Dane is not part
of the tribe. The search continues.
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