Singledom

It's fucking 4:00 on a Friday, and I have no plans for the evening. This blows. Not unusual, I have had several "nothing to do" Fridays since I became single. I have many friends around the world, but none local really. The few I had here, were my exe's friends spouses, which I lost in the divorce along with the dog.

Sometimes, friends visit. Microsoft has a local training facility that often brings them to town and we'll hang out. We'll hit a few bars, have a few drinks and have a great time. Bars can be fun, I'm gonna go anyway, by myself and check it out. I mean this is how people met before online dating right?

4:30, time for a shower. As part of my transition to Singledom, I replaced my entire wardrobe. It started with a pair of $800 Salvatore Ferragamo shoes. I walked in and out of Neiman Marcus four times before I rationalized that I deserved them. It's amazing what a pair of shoes can lead to. I finally understand why women love shoes... it creates a need to buy clothes to go with them.

Imagining my coming evening, I carefully select an outfit from my growing wardrobe of designers, many of whom I have never heard of. I have my limits. I bought a great looking black leather jacket from Armani with just a small "tasteful" insignia on the front pocket. It was not until I got home and looked at it closer, that I saw the ARMANI EXCHANGE emblazoned across the back in 4" letters. Lesson learned, look at both sides before you buy.

Of course my outfit has to start with my brown Ferragamo loafers. I add some black skinny jeans, and a black shirt with light printed things on it... flowers maybe? I'll top it off with a brown leather jacket that I searched for to match the shoes. A spritz of YSL cologne, and I'm off. As I am riding down the elevator to the parking garage, I realize that it is not even 5 yet... fuck. No turning back now.

Sitting in my reserved parking spot, on the fourth level of the garage, is my 2019 Jeep Grand Cherokee. It's a fine car, but brings back bad memories every time I see it. It was not the car I was going to get. Still married when I bought it, my ex pitched a fit about me spending too much on a car that I seldom drive. Fuck it, I was going to get the Land Rover Velar anyway... she had a Mercedes! But on my way to the dealership, I imagined her being pissed for weeks, and rationalized that she was probably right. Instead, I turned into the Jeep dealership. We split shortly after, and now, stuck in a lease, I regret not getting the Land Rover.

As I circle my way out of the parking deck, I plug my phone into Carplay and scan my messages. Nope... nobody pinging me last minute to do something. Damn it's fucking early... but Happy Hours start soon! As I reach the garage exit, I realize that I had not thought about where to go. I pull up Yelp on my car screen to do a search. Beeeep!!! Damn, somebody trying to get out behind me, I wave and pull out to the right and pull into an empty spot on the street.

"Best Bar for Singles" I type into Yelp. It returns a bunch of clubs in Ybor for the 20 somethings. Ugh. “Best Bar for Older Singles"... same results, seriously! Damn... where have I seen single women... got it... Capital Grille at International Mall. I pull out and head off, picturing this nice bar full of gorgeous single women.

5:30. Wow, the mall is packed. I pull into the valet line and wait my turn, fully aware now that I am not in a Land Rover. "Will you be dining at Capital Grille this evening?" says the valet. "Yeah, something like that" I reply and toss him the key fob thingy.

It's still light out, but walking through the door of the restaurant I’m thrown into darkness, remembering the bar is to the left, I start heading that way as my eyes adjust. Good news, it's packed! Bad news, there is no open bar seat. As I walk the length of the bar, looking to see if anyone is cashing out, I notice that there seems to be a lot of couples. I see a women at the end reaching down for her shopping bag, so I scurry over as quick as I can. Another guy is coming in from the other direction, eyeing the same spot. Looks like he's gonna beat me. Wait, a waiter crossed his path and slowed him down just enough, as I slide in acting like I was unaware of him.

"Can you make a decent Manhattan?" I ask the attractive, yet about 8 months pregnant, bartender. "I sure do" she says with a big smile, already turning on the pre-tip charm. "Done" I said, as she turned to start making it. With a seat secured and drink on the way, I nonchalantly look around the bar. Couple, Couple, Couple, Gay Couple, Group of Guys who are already drunk. Bingo! There's a couple of women at a high top table that look nice. Ah, crap... wedding rings. I continue scanning.

"Hey, can you solve an argument for us" I hear over my shoulder. I turn, assuming it's just someone talking loud, and realize it's a woman, asking me this question. I did not notice her before... maybe she was in the restroom. She's pretty... but maybe a little drunk. Why is everybody drunk already? "This guy says I am a Bitch, wadda you think?" she slurs. I am reminded of my ex, who was great up to two drinks, but went downhill from there. It's amazing what that one-drink-too-many can do to a woman. I smile, and let out a chuckle. "Seriously! I wanna answer." she presses. A head behind her starts to come in into a view that she had eclipsed with hers. Of course, it had to be the guy I beat out for the seat. He seems curious to hear my answer also. "I'm sure you are not a bitch" I say, my eyes darting from her to him, hoping that was a good enough answer. My drink arrives and the woman looks at it, then stares at me, eyes clearly glazed, and says "Asshole", and turns back to the guy. I'm thinking to myself... you're a bitch alright.

A short while later the "Bitch" and the "too-slow" guy leave... thankfully... it was awkward. I was about to ask for my check, but I guess I'll hang around for a bit now. Looking towards the front door, I see two attractive women heading in. One of them catches my gaze, and holds it for a longer time than expected, then smiles. Okay, this is a good sign, and thankfully they sit right next to me in the now vacant seats. I decide I will try and say something, but think maybe I'll wait until they have ordered their drinks. The one who caught my gaze and smiled, is sitting right next to me, which seems perfect, but then I realize she has her back turned because she is talking to her friend. I continue to play it cool, looking up, pretending like I give a shit about the game on the TV. I notice their drinks arrive out of the corner of my eye.

I wait for a lull in their conversation, so as not to interrupt. Then I turn and say "Is that the chocolate Martini?" pointing at one of their drinks. The other woman, two seats over, facing my direction says "Do you fucking mind? We're here to relax, not get hit on." The one who smiled turns towards me now. She does not say anything, but rolls her eyes in sort of an apology for her friend's snap. She turns back, and I am thinking, I wished she had come alone, instead of with Ms. Cockblocker.

Alone... yes duh... I scan the bar again looking for a woman who is alone. Of course there are none. I guess that might look either desperate, or pathetic, so I can see why a woman would not go out to bar alone. Then I ponder myself sitting there... alone... what the hell do I look like? This is way easier with friends. You clearly have a purpose when you are with friends... what is your purpose in a bar by yourself? I am not having fun, and suddenly feel very weird sitting here by myself. I focus on the game on TV, as though that was my real purpose in being here. Of course, there's the final whistle, the game is over.

"Check please" I mouth, while making the air check sign to the bartender down the bar. She nods and brings it quickly. I drop a twenty and get up to leave. The girl next to me notices my movement and turns towards me. I smile, she returns the smile with a shrug, then turns back to her friend who had increased her volume to regain her attention. We were just two ships passing in the night, never to see each other again.

Exiting the restaurant, I decide to walk down the aisle of bars and restaurants leading to the mall entrance. They are all packed. I think about going into one and look at my watch, it's 8:30. I am reminded of the definition of an insane person, doing the same thing and expecting a different result. I turn on my $800 heels, and head back to the valet stand.

I have been on a few dates from dating sites, enough to realize that even a bad date is better than this. My car pulls up and I walk around handing the driver a fiver which he looks at. Was it not enough? I mean it was two minutes of your time dipshit. If I could reach it, I would snatch it back, but instead I slide in and pull away.

8:45 on Friday night. All dressed up and nowhere to go. I guess I'll just go home and watch TV.

I roll over in bed this morning, still half asleep, and instinctively throw my arm to the other side. There was no one there. Suddenly, I shoot straight up, wide awake. There has been someone on the other side of the bed for decades, but not today… today there is only me. The realization that nobody was there dawns on me, as it usually did in the mornings. Old habits die hard, I guess.

But on this morning in particular, someone is there… I can feel it. I look at the clock, it’s 4:12 AM. I sit up, rub my eyes, put on my glasses, and as focus arrives, I stand up and walk out into my dark living room.

My fake fireplace is on, casting a dark orange glow across the room. In my sleepy haze, I see a person sitting in the chair in the corner. Startled, I can’t make out who it is, just a fuzzy silhouette; but I live alone so this is not good. I decide to play it cool; I could still be dreaming after all. As I scan for something I can use as a weapon, the silhouette says, “Hello Steve.” in a voice I do not recognize. I cannot even discern if it’s male or female. “What do you want!” I say, my voice a couple of octaves higher than normal. “To welcome you to Singledom, I am your guide,” says the silhouette, putting down a cup of coffee on the side table, that he/she obviously helped their self to. I am oddly reminded of the ghosts from A Christmas Carol. Was I even talking to a person? I assume this must be a dream; can’t die from a dream. I decide to play along and see where my mind is taking me.

“So, what’s your name?” I ask.

The silhouette responds, “You can call me Pat.” Of course, still no idea if male or female.

“Okay ‘Pat’”— I say snidely—"I have to tell you right up front, I’m pretty convinced the online dating scene is hopelessly broken, so I can hardly wait to hear what kind of guidance are you going to give me for Singledom?”

“Why, how to get out of here, of course!” Pat says.

I ponder this, and say, maybe a little challengingly “How do you know I won’t like it here?” I’m already “testing” Pat.

“We have an extensive file on you”—Pat shakes a folder in the air— “we know”.

Caught off-guard by the file, I say “But I have never been single, it seems like there could be some upside.” Who was I trying to convince? Pat? Or me?

Pat replies, “For some men that is probably true, but you are not one of those men Steve, for you it will be all downside. Can we get started now?”.

I think for a second, trying to decide if this is a complete waste of my time, and say “Ok sure… why not?” I mean, I’m single… I have the time to waste.

Pat begins “I am going to ask you a few of questions to see what I am working with here. You need to answer honestly, or I won’t be able to help you get out of here. Are you ready?”

“Hit me with your best shot” I say, this was certainly a more interesting way to begin a typically mundane morning.

“Okay, first question”—Pat leans in and pauses—"are you an asshole?”.

“What!”—I say incredulously— “That’s a pretty stupid question to start with, I am obviously NOT an asshole.” I was shocked at his/her audacity to even ask that.

Pat responds, “It may be obvious to you, but not to the one who may lift you out of here, who by now, may be assuming that all men are assholes”.

Ugh, I drop into the chair across from Pat. I had not thought about that at all. Maybe Pat is not an idiot after all.

“It looks a lot different from the other side Steve”, Pat explains, “The one who will pull you out of here may get 100’s or 1,000’s of likes a day.”

“What! I get like 10… a week!”—I say shaking my head— “Is my profile really that bad?”

Pat goes on, “It’s the way it is, women get 50-500 times as many likes as men, mainly because women are much pickier in Singledom than men are.”

I’m thinking to myself, how am I ever gonna get out of here with those odds. I ask, “So they are literally looking at a haystack, which according to you, is filled with assholes… so how are you going to help me get out?”

“First, we have to determine if you are a needle worth finding,”— says Pat—"for the one who pulls you out, you will likely not be her first attempt; her hope is hardening”. I slump a little lower into the chair. It is starting to feel hopeless indeed.

I am already not liking this whole online dating process. It’s… way too “efficient”. A potential life-changing decision being made by flicking a photo to the right. I know who I am, I know I am a good, caring and passionate man; I also know there are many awesome women on the other side of this semi-opaque paid barrier. But if Pat is right… the whole system has been corrupted by human nature

Pat interrupts my thinking process and asks, “Second question, do you have a job?”

“Yes, of course, I have my own business, is that really important? I thought love conquers all?”

“Maybe for young people, but adult women will want to know you are financially stable”, says Pat.

“I get it, I am, is that all?” I say.

“That depends,” says Pat, “there will be some that would pull you out for that reason alone, but do you really want to be right back here in a short while?”

“Hell no!”, I say.

“Do you like your job?” Pat asks.

“To tell you the truth,”— I start, with a smile crossing my face— “I absolutely love it. I have done many things over the years, but this one is like a dream gig. All of my employees are remote… hell I work from home too! I get to travel the world… I’ve never had anything like this before.” I pause for a second, then continue “I am also damn good at it! It was like I found my calling.”

“Third question: Are you funny?”, says Pat. “Ha, I got this one, I already know that women love a funny guy, and I am very funny.”, I say leaning back smiling and nodding.

“Be careful”— Pat says— “women like funny, but a non-stop comedian gets old quick, you have to know when to be serious”

I stop nodding. “Yeah… I know… it is something I have to work on, but I promise I will if that’s what it takes to get out of here”, I say, sitting upright again. I have known this. I have always been an extrovert; the guy who can crack up the whole table. Eventually you notice that everyone is laughing… except your wife.

“Fourth question: How many children do you have, and do they live at home?”

“I have four awesome daughters, all grown”, I say.

“No sons?”, says Pat. “Um, is that bad?”, I ask.

“Quite the contrary, it says that you understand, and probably respect women… I can work with that.”

“Whew”, I sigh and lean back relieved, “How much longer is this going to take, I really want to get out of here!”

“Just a few more”, says Pat. I can already tell he/she is lying, because that’s the same thing my ex used to say at the mall, when I asked how many more stores we are going to… funny… I miss the mall now.

“Fifth question: Why did your marriage end?”, Pat asks.

“Really? Does that really matter? Is it even any of their business? They are not her.” I protest.

“Of course, they are not her, but they will want to know, so I will need an answer.” presses Pat.

“Fine. Actually, I have been married twice. The first one lasted 25 years, but should have probably ended after 20, we got married too young and grew apart, but we did produce 4 beautiful daughters. I went from that one, immediately into my second marriage, and we were together for 12 years. Is that enough?”, I said.

Pat responded, “Well, it shows at least that you are capable of committing, but you left out why the second one ended?”

“It was 10 years of mostly bliss, but then we decided she should join me in my business, and shortly after, we became virtual and both worked from home.” I said.

“I see”, said Pat, “so basically together 24/7, was that the problem?”

“Partly, I do think couples need some space of their own, but what really did it, was that all we ended up talking about was work. We put a fire extinguisher to any romantic spark; and had become co-workers… for too long.”

I dropped my chin to my hand—"We both agreed it would be better to just start fresh. Can we stop talking about this now? It makes me feel really bad that we screwed up a great thing ourselves.”

Pat said, “That is always a tough question, but this is a tough process. There is no easy way out of here… that does not land you right back here”. Pat is starting to annoy me, but I have not figured out how to get out of here on my own, so I don’t see a better option than to keep going.

“Sixth question: What are you looking for?” Pat asks.

“What do you mean, what am I looking for, an awesome woman obviously.” I say.

“Yes, of course,”— Pat probes— “but for what? Marriage, Fun and Games… what do you want from her?”

“Oh, I see,”—pausing as I think about it—"well the thing I miss the most about my last relationship, was losing my best friend, so whoever pulls me out of here, I will want to become my new best friend. Does that mean marriage? Who knows… but I did marry my last two best friends, so I’m not ruling it out. Is that clear enough?” I lean back in the chair, letting my mind wander on this idea, when I am brought back by Pat, who says,

“What is the difference between a wife and a best friend?”

I think for a second and then say, “I know many wives who are not their spouse’s best friends, they drew a line in their relationships, it still works for many of them… functional. But I am wanting more than ‘functional’… maybe because I have had more in the past. Someone who I enjoy doing fun things with,”—I pause, contemplating—"or enjoy doing absolutely nothing with. You know Pat, This is starting to feel like an investigation!”

“That’s a perfect segway to my next question.” — Pat says — “Question Seven: You have been on the planet for a while and done many things. When a woman searches your name online, and they will, what bad things are they going to find?” Pat Asks.

“Nothing, they will find nothing bad.” I say.

“What will they find?”— Pat presses— “There can’t be ‘nothing’ anymore.”

I reply “Oh, they will find plenty, just nothing bad. There’s a lot of stuff about me, my business and things I have done, all good… I think. Can we use that?”

Pat thinks, then says, “Maybe, but let’s get through the last couple of questions for now.”

I’m feeling pretty comfortable about my online search results, of course, you have to make a connection with someone first before they will come into play.

Pat continues, “Question Eight: Are you religious?”

The skeptic in me is starting to think that Pat is just a bot filling in my online profile, as the questions are all sounding similar. “I am not, I was not brought up in a religious family”—then recalling my first marriage— “but my first wife was catholic, and my daughters were brought up catholic… does that count?”

“For some this will be extremely important, for others less so, and for many it will not matter at all”—Pat answers— “Are you an Atheist?”

“I would not go that far; I simply was not exposed in my early years… I guess you would have to say I’m ‘agnostic’.” I conclude.

Pat asks “Do you need to take a break? We are getting to the most topical question next.”

“Nah, I’m fine, let’s keep going.” I say.

“Question Nine: Do you Hate Trump?” Pat asks rather aggressively.

I groan. I have already been asked this question a few times in my online chats, so I know it’s quite ‘loaded’. I guess I have been lucky in life; my trajectory has not really been influenced, one way or the other, by who was sitting in the President’s chair at the time. It always seemed like a transitory sideshow to me. But I am also aware that it does impact others, and many people feel very strongly, one way or the other, even if they are not impacted directly. The polarization of the population has definitely reached the online dating world. For many, it is not enough to be neutral, you have to actively “hate” someone. I tentatively answer “I will give you the same answer that has proven to be unsatisfactory so far to some; I think Trump is an idiot”— I pause—“but his idiocy has not impacted me as a business person, or in any other area of my life.”

“So, does that mean you support him?” Pat queries.

“It means, I’m staying out of it. I can find agreement with different issues from both sides. I don’t think everything is black and white along party lines. People can feel however they want, but a closed-minded zealot for either side is going to lose patience quickly with me.”—I think for a second—"It’s a transitory position, like it or not it’s temporary; I would not make a decision about being with a person for the rest of my life, based on whether they like or hate the President on that day.” Politics annoy the crap out of me. People on both sides yapping about things they don’t even know about, like they are experts, and thinking their rants will have any influence whatsoever on events. All they are accomplishing is getting half the people in a room, or online, to not like them… pointless. I shake my head.

Pat says “Almost done, Question ten: what is the most traumatic thing that has happened in your life?”

I am thinking Pat may not be a bot now, because I don’t recall that question being on the profile form, but they were mostly superficial questions anyway. Fortunately, I have lived a pretty trauma-free life. My father passed away recently, but that was more of a relief, as he had been suffering for a while. But still, his passing made me refocus on the fact that life is short. I’m not a believer in reincarnation, so I’m pretty sure we only get one shot at this. I see people in miserable relationships, that continue for years, and I can’t help but think to myself… why? Obligation? My parents were married for 62 years, I know attitudes are different about marriage today, but I still never sensed that they stayed together out of obligation. Pat’s voice comes back “I need an answer”. “No, no trauma” I said.

“That is the end of my questions,”—says Pat—"for now.” “Good, that was exhausting” I say. “It is only the end of mine,”—says Pat— “the one who pulls you out will have many more”. “Fair enough” I say.

I lean back fully in the chair now, relieved… but anxious at the same time. It is light out, but the sun is coming into my face from behind Pat’s chair… I still can’t tell if Pat is a he or she. I guess it doesn’t matter, not sure what I would do differently if I knew either way. But still… “Hey Pat, are you aware that I don’t know if you are a man or a woman?”

Pat says “Yes, I am aware. If you knew that I was one or the other, it would have colored your answers.”

“How so?” I ask. “Well, if I were a woman, you would tend to give me the answers you think a woman would want to hear, and if I were a man, your ego would have become engaged.”— Pat explains— “Trust me, it’s better that you didn’t know.” I don’t argue, I guess it makes sense.

I look at the time, knowing that many hours have passed, but see that it has only been one minute since I got out of bed… odd. I’m exhausted, but eager to move onward. I ask Pat “Okay, what’s next? I really would like to leave here as soon as possible.”

Pat says, “Now we wait.”

“Wait! Wait for what?”— I say— “I was already waiting before you showed up. I was getting better advice from my brother, who has been single forever and knows these sites like the back of his hand!”

“I see,”—Pat says— “and what advice did he give you?”

“He says you have to like everybody’s profile, just to even the odds, that it’s a ‘numbers’ game.” I answer.

“And did you take your perennially single brother’s advice?” Pat inquired.

I shrug “No, like you said, he’s obviously not an expert, and he’s a misogynist anyway, he’s looking for different things than me, but at least he has a ‘Like’ strategy.”

“Okay. Here’s the best advice I can give you,”—Pat leans in to say— “look at their entire profile.” Pat stops.

I say expectantly “Yes, I do that already, then what?”

Pat says “Then… ‘Like’, who you like.”

I slap my hand to my forehead and exclaim: “Well thank you Caption Obvious!”

I hear a pulsing sound in my ears. It’s getting louder, and louder… and then… I wake up.

“Alexa off!” I groan and sit up in bed. Man, what a crazy dream… it felt so real! Normally I forget most of what I was dreaming about, only recalling bits and pieces, but I can replay this one word-for-word in my head. I am thinking I got some really good advice, and then remember it was all coming out of my own brain… like some fool talking to himself.

I get up and head for the kitchen “Alexa, Coffee!” Just to be sure, I quickly turn to look at the chair. Empty, thankfully. I turn back to making my coffee. Coffee! I turn slowly and sitting on the side table is a coffee cup… still steaming.