Why Don’t You want to date?

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

My sister-in-law asked me the other day if I was dating anyone. The quick answer is no. She asked if I wanted to date anyone. I had to think about that a bit.

There are a mirade of reasons why I don’t want to date anyone. And I wondered if they were reasonable. So I did what everyone does in those situations. I asked Google why women don’t want to date anyone as they get older.

Long story short, why I’m not dating are the same reasons many women my age (40s) doesn’t want to date anyone.

When I was a young, single mom, men wanted no part of me. As a single mom, I learned pretty quickly how unattractive I was to men in their 20s and 30s. I had two children and 100% custody. I was broke. I didn’t have a higher education. And my emotional intelligence was, let’s say, lacking in a lot of areas.

I did what anyone else would’ve done in my place when they realize they’re not a very attractive partner to anyone of substance. I went to therapy. I went to unviersity. I focused on being the best parent to my children I could possibly be. I worked two jobs. I put off dating until I was sure that I could give the man in my life the very best version of myself that I could offer.

I definitely didn’t have it figured out at 25. Or even 30. I was learning at 35. But by then, I was too busy with my kids, and work, and school, and my religion that dating was pretty much off the table. It was one of those things that I really never thought about while neck-deep in graduate school and trying to pull the 40 to 50 hour a week grind at work.

Then I hit 40 and it was a moment of, “Do I want this? Should I want this? Is this normal that I really don’t?” My kids were almost out of the house and I thought, “Maybe this is my time.”

I went on dating apps, got a couple matches, and was disappointed by the results. I deleted the apps. Went back to the organic dating scene. And was, again, disappointed by the results.

Then my kids moved out and I moved, too. This time I moved across the country, to a new location, new place, new faces, and better weather. I got an apartment I love. I got a car I really love. I got a cat I really, really love. I got the furniture, plates, decorations, and everything else I picked out. I don’t go to the grocery store for food I know the kids will like. I go for me. I spend my time doing what I want to do when I want to do it. And when I get bored and want to have fun, I throw my niece into the car and we go on adventures.

I clean my house on my schedule. I wash my dishes every night. I do the cooking and cleaning and laundry and the cat stuff and I do it all for me. My house, my space, my place is peaceful. I don’t worry about if the trash is going to taken out. I take the trash out. I don’t worry if the cat is being fed. I feed the cat. I don’t worry about gas in the car. I put gas into the car. And if I can’t do it, I’m willing to admit that I will throw money at the situation.

What I didn’t realize when I was trying to date but what I realize now is that when I was forced to do it on my own, when I was forced to come to terms with myself, when I was forced to make myself the best version of me I could be, I became content in my own company. I like myself. I like who I am and how I have created this little life of my own in my own little peaceful corner of the world, and I think, “Am I willing to give this up for someone else?”

My Catholic faith is excellent at weeding out the bad apples. I tell a man I’m not going to have sex before marriage and most of them disappear. The ones who stay, I sit back and wait for them to test my boundaries. And they always do. Things like a guy sending inappropriate pictures. Asking to see inappropriate pictures of myself. Lying. Finding someone else and ghosting me.

And the best part of being an older, single Catholic woman? The Catholics in my life will one-hundred percent tell me if they’re a good one or a bad one.

There was one who slipped through the cracks. It was a very bad time for me and I let someone in I should’ve stayed 500 feet away from. He broke all the rules. And I was stupid. In my defense, I was a bit out of sorts.

No one, not one, of the people in my life wanted me to be with him. But it wasn’t until I went to Confession that it hit home. I said to the priest, “We blurred the boundaries. And he left me for someone else. But we could’ve been so beautiful together.”

The priest, in persona Christi, said this to me and I’ll never forget it, “No. You wouldn’t have. You would be miserable together. Because if he’s willing to blur boundaries now, imagine what he’d have done if you had gotten married.”

Dang. He had me there. I couldn’t argue with that logic.

So yeah. I can’t imagine ever being married. I used to bemoan this fact. Now I think it’s a bonus. And I’m good with that because I love myself.

There’s a saying, “I know what I bring to the table. And I’m not afraid to eat alone.”