Past Lives
Current reality.
The Zillennials/Millennials (I don’t even know anymore) had a 90s bike n’ brew crawl on Saturday. I told my friend I’m not going. I think I’m growing out of this phase, I told him. He responded, you don’t want to go for a bike ride with friends? I knew I would get pushback. No, I’m just old, blah, blah, blah…I didn’t want to get into it. Will you at least come to the silent disco afterwards? No, I don’t have it in me, I said. I didn’t say the reason was because the last one was so awkward for me, even though I wanted to tell him and I will at some point, if we ever get together for just a beer or a joint instead of an “epic” event.
I went camping Labor Day weekend in San Diego. To Julian, an old mountain mining town that specializes in apple pies. It was hot as fuck. It was fun, but difficult. San Diego opens up old wounds in me. But it was worth going. Maybe not for Labor Day traffic. Maybe not inland on one of the hottest weekends of the year. But worth it to see some old friends and co-workers. We went to bed early because the campground had a strict “no fires after 11pm” rule. I think secretly most of us were fine calling it a night at 11. We’re all in our 40s, tired, and worn out to a certain degree. It was nice to shoot the shit and joke around and listen to classic rock. No country, no EDM, just some Steve Miller, 38 Special, Fleetwood Mac, and whatever else was on the playlist. That aspect was comforting.
On the way back I stopped by Encinitas in North County where I lived a previous life. A reminder of twelve crucial years. A reminder of stories without closure, with a sunny backdrop where everyone is great looking. It felt like I never left, it’s bizarre. I saw one of my best friends and her two little girls. We went to the beach and got a coffee. It was nice, but she’s worried about me because I’m all alone. She doesn’t understand why I’m still single after all these years. Dating sucks, I shrugged. She’s been with her guy for fifteen years. She has no idea. I told her men my age, or older for that matter, never hit on me. The men I want to hit on me (perhaps a middle-aged Sam Elliot or Tom Selleck look-alike). I only get hit on by younger guys for some reason. I told her I have PTSD from my divorce, subsequent shitty relationship, and all the bad dates I’ve been on since the subsequent shitty relationship. I was being dramatic, but it’s also true. I don’t even know how to flirt anymore.
Whether I like it or not, this is the sort of stuff I’m faced with whenever I go out. Everyone I know is in a couple. Like, 99% of the people I know. I’m always the third, fifth, or seventh wheel now. Camping, silent discos, birthday parties, graduations—it’s all couples.
Whatever.
It shouldn’t be this difficult. It should be easy to meet the love of your life. Or even someone you just click with. It should just magically happen. It’s happened for me before—many times. I tell myself it’s all in divine timing. Vaya con Dios. I’m not worried about it. I just despise going out now. Instead of God cock-blocking me, I cock-block myself.
The only “older” guy (probably a mere three to five years older than me) that’s given me the time of day is a manager at an unnamed grocery chain. You know, that chain where they wear Hawaiian shirts. Anyway, I sort of developed a crush on him because he looked, I don’t know, normal. He had good hair, graying. He had a mustache, which I’m a sucker for. Clean, dressed well. Looked like a dad.
One day, sometime last year, he helped carry out my groceries to the car. There was definitely an energy there, but I’m so cautious these days I was scared to flirt. To really flirt how I used to when I actually had game. Now I’ve been rejected so many times in my 40s or conversely, don’t want to open the door to guys who seem “off” (and there’s a lot of guys who seem “off” when you reach your 40s), that I don’t know how to act around men in general. So I have a wall up and I’m awkward as fuck.
We had a moment or whatever, it wasn’t that deep. But somewhat exciting for my excruciatingly boring love life. After that we would catch eyes with each other every time I went into unnamed grocery store. Now he seemed nervous, but I kind of liked that I made him nervous. I would go out of my way to smile at him, and watch him squirm. I was sure he was divorced with kids, he just had that vibe. I had the fantasy that he would help carry out my groceries again so we could get down to business. Is he single? Is he going to ask me out? Could we have a passionate secret make-out sesh behind my parked Subaru Outback?
Well, turns out he’s married. Of course. Story of my life. Yet, we still catch eyes. However, now I’m the one squirming. This has happened three times recently where he’s locked eyes with me, and now that I know he’s married, I stand there like a deer in headlights and don’t know what to do. I can’t do what I want to do. I force a smile and walk away quickly.
It’s no secret that I’m in the middle of a midlife crisis. I’ve said it before and it continues.
I don’t know how to get out of it. No red sports car or fling with a younger guy is going to do it. A vacation might help, but I can’t afford one right now. This is why I live vicariously through younger people on shows like Love Island, Industry, and Tell Me Lies where romance and careless thrills are effortlessly at their fingertips.
By the way, Industry is the best show on television right now. We’ll chat about that later…