If I Knew Back Then…

It has now been eighteen months since I have been wandering the interwebs of dating sites and such.  Back in November 2011 I wrote my initial critique on the concept…but things have evolved…or have they?

The hardest part of writing this a year after that original is not repeating myself…is not repeating myself…

In the dating game I am not sure that the cat and mouse part ever changes…the players, however, do evolve…I know I have.  Of course “players”, in this context is not about the idiots…that’s an entirely different subset of scoundrel…and if Han Solo and has taught us nothing besides Harrison Ford’s lack of acting and George Lucas’ inability to write romantic scenes and dialogue, it is that ladies like the good scoundrels.

The bad boys.

Guys with the edge.

…but not really.

Think about it this way, did Indy ever disrespect Marian?  Oh, wait…wrong film…Did Han ever disrespect Leia?  Or was it simply the way he treated anyone he deemed to be of higher class?

Okay…onto classism which is not where I was going with this…

Where was I going…um…scoundrels, right.  It strikes me that the lovable scoundrel is a bit of mystery to women. They never quite know what he’s thinking, but he always turns into the knight when the time comes.

Example, this scene…

Think I have gone off topic entirely and, believe me, I am working to figure out how to get back on…

Point is, I am not a scoundrel.  In fact, in real life (shudders) I come off as a genuinely nice guy…ask the two ex-wives that used to walk all over me.

Again…back to topic before I lose this completely.

Thanks to writing erotica openly for two years, however, I do notice that women started to pay attention…online at first.  Then I believe my own self image slightly shifted with the confidence I gained from that.  In essence, I don’t put up with the shit I once did.

This also comes with the realization that perfection is not only unattainable, but not expected.  At 20-something, I don’t think most get this point…at 40-something, I get it in spades.  That epiphany that not only are the women out there just as fucked up as I am, but really are driven by many of the same things but perhaps to different degrees.

Self-esteem…that confidence I already mentioned, is the defining point in how we react to other people.  Differing levels of self-esteem, usually thanks to baggage from our past, makes respect the wild-card in it all.  Again, after the second ex-wife, my esteem went beyond rock bottom.

The best dating habits are created when one’s self-esteem is at a level where one can say no to one’s self without too much grasping at the straws of “what if”.  We all have certain things that attract us to people…our turn offs and our turn ons.  A certain hair colour…eye colour…leg shape.  Like all good book covers, this starts with the physical.

I have met women who think respect is simply in the want to see them naked…their esteem has taken such a beating that one who catches their fancy simply paying attention to them is enough to get them to spread their legs.  I have also met women who require the diamond ring and daily flower deliveries before a peck on the cheek is even considered.

The truth…the happy medium…is somewhere between these two extremes.

On the guy side…the stereotypes are well ingrained in pop culture.  The shy nerd who has no confidence and believes almost all women are out of their league (on a personal note…been there).  Then there are the guys who need to have the woman on his arm because he doesn’t think he looks good without one…or two.  And, again, the aforementioned scoundrels…the rebels without a cause.

Again, the examples I use for either gender are completely interchangeable.

We have all been told that we are incomplete without someone else in our lives.  We are only one half and our other half is out there…the one that will finish our sentences…pull out the chair and hold the door…make our sandwiches for us.  Love is like oxygen…love is a many splendid thing…love lifts us up where we belong…all you need is love.

What a crock of shit.

Really, what is better than the meeting of two kindred minds…and the anticipation of those minds introducing their own respective gonads to each other?

It is all about sex…don’t kid yourself.

We all want that comfortable cuddle on the couch to turn into a cardio exercise event.  We all want that other person to scream our name and drag their nails down our backs.  To think of us and get wet or hard at random parts of their day.

…but…BUT!!!…we all want respect from the one we are doing this with.

There are days that it wanders through this old brain that even the concept of love, the traditional ideas of what romantic love is, have evolved.  The old clichés of sparks and flames no longer seem to apply to such possibilities anymore.  As globalization has brought the world closer together, it has driven couples further and further apart through cyber affairs, jealousy and the greener grass theory.

The nuclear family is gone in the whisper of a mushroom cloud somewhere over Bill Clinton’s head…well, the one Monica was sucking on, at least.

So where does this leave me?

I am not looking for the fairy tale anymore…have not been for quite some time.  I am not looking for love.

I am looking for a companion, a like mind, and a playmate.  If love follows back, I would not turn it away.

However, had I realized how hollow the fairy tale was when I was fifteen and first paying attention to girls…well…if I knew back then what I know right now…

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