I have a neighbor who keeps asking me out to dinner. He's a nice enough fellow, probably 10-15 years older, but there's nothing about him that interests me. I've declined his offers several times, always as kindly as possible. The other day I finally said it bluntly. We were standing in the laundry room in our apartment building and he had just reminded me of all my previous excuses. "The thing is," I said, "I'm just not interested, in general." "Sounds like something's broken," he responded. "Yes, my heart is broken." "Well, my granddad used to say the best thing to do it to get back on the horse and learn how to ride again." I winced, my back to him, quickly grabbed the rest of my clothes from the dryer and said goodbye.
The next day I had lunch with a few friends from work, two widows among them. One lost her husband to cancer a year ago, the other to a violent criminal several years ago. The former had been married for 25 years, the latter for 5, and me for 11 days.
We marveled at the fact that we are three widows working in the same department. "What are the chances of that?" we all wondered. I asked them if they had thought about dating again. Each shook her head.
"I'm just not interested," one said. "Me neither, I don't think I could go through it all again." "Do you think you'll change your mind eventually?" I asked. "I doubt it, but I guess you never know." "I'm just not ready." We paused. Then one said, "Sometimes I wish I were gay, it would be so much easier." We all giggled. "There are certain aspects of being with a woman that are attractive," I said. "But you know, then you'd have to do that." "I don't think I could do that." "Do you have to do that?" the other asked. "I think it comes with the territory." "Damn." "Maybe you could wear a mask," I suggested. They howled. "What kind of mask?" "I don't know." "A snorkel!" "I'll buy you one for your birthday." We were still laughing as we walked to the car. "At least we can joke about it," one lady said. "Amen, sister."
I'm not sure when I'll be ready to date again. In May it will be two years since Kaz passed, and I still find it difficult to imagine being with someone else. I'm not afraid of being alone. On the contrary, I've become a bit of a hermit. I socialize with close friends but rarely at public events. I just wrote a post about preferring to network online rather than out with real people.
But that's going to have to change soon. If I am to get my career back on track, I will have to get out there again. It's Hollywood, after all. Networking is at least 25% of the game, if not 95%. If you're not seen, you don't exist. And the days of using my puppy as an excuse to not go out are over. She's housebroken and crate-trained now. At the very least I have to socialize more. Whether and when I start dating again is a whole other story. "All in good time," as my mother used to say.