The Golden Girls

I was recently witness to a conversation amongst three female friends who at my best (or worst) guess, happened to be over 50. I couldn't stop myself from eavesdropping - mostly because I'm nosey but also because the conversation they were having sounded surprisingly familiar.

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It's the same one I've been having with my girlfriends since that fateful day many, many years ago when we finally discovered that boys don't actually have cooties. I mean, some do. The ones that never wash their sheets and pee around the toilet, instead of inside the toilet, definitely do.

From what I could gather two friends were asking the other whether or not she was going out on a dinner date.

"So did he say you're going out for dinner or not?".

"I don't really know, he mentioned there was a group and kept saying 'we' but I'm not sure if 'we' included me".

"Well how are you going to find out? Isn't it tonight?".

"He said he'd call me but I haven't heard from him yet".

This was followed by a deafening silence as the four of us (yes I'm including myself), gaze down at the table and take a sip of our drinks. For a moment I feel like I might be in an episode of the Golden Girls. I steal a look at Dorothy and Blanche and I know we're all thinking the same thing. Rose will be setting the table for one that evening.

As I looked at my mother, happily married for decades, and then at my boyfriend (now ex), relatively new in his attachment to me. It all made me wonder - as we grow older, do we ever actually grow up?

I am by no means a subject matter expert but when it comes to dating I don't think human behaviour fully evolves beyond the game playing stage. There are always elements left behind that we find sprinkled through what are supposedly our years of fully fledged maturity.

When I was 20 years old and a guy didn't call when he said he would, I wasn't really surprised. Sure I was visibly and overwhelmingly upset about it. I definitely checked my phone every 5 minutes and lost way more sleep than it was worth. But at that point in your life there’s a small part of you just expecting men to be assholes. You subscribe to the notion that you have to kiss a few frogs before you get to your prince because that's what everyone tells you. There's a light at the end of the tunnel they say, but you have to deal with Joe's emotional abuse and Brad's incessant dick pics before you can see it. What Brad doesn't realise is that his best angle isn't really his best angle. Just like Joe has no idea he's laying the foundation for a future of you sitting awake at night wondering: "Will I ever be good enough?".

These same thoughts of inadequacy and uncertainty have perforated my seemingly thick skin for years. Whether you gently dip your toe or fall face first into the depths of naivety, we can all recall moments of pure angst when it comes to matters of the heart. We have trusted too easily and too quickly and made too many excuses for someone who doesn't deserve it. But what my eavesdropping has taught me is that for some of us, the feeble attempt to escape these experiences can deny us our greatest life lessons – even at 50. I'm not quite in that age bracket yet but everything I have come to know about dating is the result of momentarily losing myself in someone else or having someone momentarily lose themselves in me. I don't regret my blatant naivety and although it makes me cringe more often than I'd like to admit, I certainly don't regret the frogs (TOADS) I've met along the way.

There was the guy that never called unless it was past 10pm. The one I kissed when I was fully sober despite believing with 99% surety that he was gay. The dude who would style his hair with bars of soap and water and had a deeply concerning dependency on drugs and alcohol. The well paid Engineer who asked to borrow $10 from me to buy a burger. The massive guy with the shockingly small penis. The tiny guy with the shockingly huge penis. Oh and let’s not forget the guy who continuously lied to my face about having a girlfriend. Let’s also not forget the fact that I chose to believe him (lolzzzz). I recall a Bricklayer who unbeknownst to me was actually an NRL player pretending to be someone else, a guy who tapped his neck with two fingers when he wanted me to kiss it, men who think it’s hot to put their tongue all over your face instead of inside your mouth, men who turn up two hours late and men who don’t turn up at all. If you sat down with my friends and I we could tell you tales of the best lessons we’ve ever learnt through the worst relationships we’ve ever had. From the guys who tell us we should work out more to the ones that bend us over their desks right before they ghost us (the ever-complicated work entanglement is something we’ll explore another day).  

For now what I guess I'm trying to say is - don't beat yourself up if you're the type that face plants into naivety. Maybe you date a string of douchebags hoping they will be different with you, maybe you cancel dinner with the girls because tonight is the night he finally agrees to take you out, maybe you check his Instagram story to see what he's up to because he doesn't bother to tell you himself, maybe despite your best friends advice you keep telling yourself that Joe's just so busy with work and taking care of his sick cat so he can't quite manage to squeeze you in...except of course at 2am when the beers are heavy and so is the twinge of his blue balls calling your name. Or perhaps you just need the attention to make you feel good again. Perhaps Joe has made you feel so inadequate that anything is better than nothing right now.

If this sounds like you, that's ok. It's me and my friends too.

I don’t know how Dorothy, Rose and Blanche ended their conversation that day. But what I do know is that the allure of true love can be powerful enough to make anyone fall face first. As we move through life it would do us well to remember that the pool of naivety is deep and invites swimmers of all ages. Let us not be surprised if our feet touch the bottom, even at 50.

With love, always

J