First year report card

It's been too long since I braved another blog posting.  And I use the word "braved" because it was not so much a bit of writer's block that was afoot but a bumping up against the point at which I probably should shift to the realities of my life in the "single again" zone rather just  muse on the state of my on-line dating attempts.

In other words...it has become increasingly apparent that if I was going to keep this thing alive and interesting, I would probably need to discuss what has actually been going on in practice as opposed to mere theory.

A daunting prospect given that my daughter, spouse emeritus, various friends and family members and a number of women I dated this year or would like to date sometime in the future do read this blog. 

Which is when I came upon the notion of a report card.  After all, it is that season as far as elementary school goes and at this one year mark of my second act of singularity?  I just finished first grade.

So here goes....and to best honour the spirit of this thing, I will adopt the voice of Miss Hill, my first grade teacher way back when. 

She was an unclaimed treasure of indeterminate age who still occasionally haunts my dreams as the first voice of unfiltered and unyielding adult disapproval that I encountered as a kid.  I do not say this with any personal feelings of unfairness or ill will by the way...I suspect she had already judged life disappointing and was quite unbiased as to who or what she deemed yet another let down. 

In fact, I  think she may have literally needed to point out and correct the evidence we (and particularly me) provided as to the sorry state of the next generation and world in general, much in the way my young peers and I needed lunch, recess and an afternoon nap to perform as expected.  She clearly found purpose, solace and energy in conducting her adopted roles as arbiter of what was right and chief prosecutor of all that was wrong.  And six year olds provided plenty of both.

It was something of a perfect eco-system when you think about it.

But I digress....so I will hand this column off to her for comments and grading of my year of living in singularity.

Billy started this year happy and enthusiastic about the tasks and learning required of him in this first year of a new world of different expectations.

A happy demeanour and advanced ability to express himself found him making friends easily.

As the year progressed though, he lost focus since his social skills proved not enough to keep him on track as far as the work required of him.  

His mind wandered and he would often become bogged down by expending effort on things that had nothing to do with what was on the curriculum.  It became increasingly apparent that his desire for fun overshadowed the need to buckle down on the tasks at hand.  And rather than taking heed of my many reminders that  life was not all fun and games, he became all the more determined to follow his own agenda, something that appeared to frustrate him even more when things did not go his way.

As the year wound to a close, Billy seemed to realize that unless something changed, nothing would change.  And despite this late realization on his part, his first year can best be described as satisfactory given an effort that barely meets required standards.

Perhaps the summer will see Billy gather his wits about him and return with a more positive attitude towards the tasks ahead.  I would recommend particular attention to his diet and levels of both rest and exercise.  You will also want to pay particular attention to his choice of playmates as they are often wildly inappropriate and he is easily mislead towards mischief, although I sometimes wonder if he isn't actually the ringleader himself.

Final Grade C-
Promoted to next level with reservations.

ancient band reunions/returning to the dating world...surprisingly similar

I've always been more than a little music obsessed, either as a player myself or as a devotee of bands that were not exactly run of the mainstream and just as often as not, held in high disdain by a more discerning segment of my peers.

Which is not to say that my musical icons uniformly represented what would later be seen as evidence of a cutting edge sense of the soon to be credible.  Nope, I was just as likely to love stuff that didn't even need the passing of time to know that it was, well....crap.

Consider this.

I was an early adopter of both the New York and London sounds that would before too long be known as punk rock.  And prime among the bands I fell so hard for was the Sex Pistols.

But I also owned a lot of Kiss albums (and by a lot, I mean all of them).

Likewise, I may have been the only kid in early to mid 70's Mississauga who owned both New York Dolls albums.

But I also had more than a few Grand Funk LP's.

Now, what does any of this have to do with the resurrection of my single status after a 23 year absence?

Well, it has me thinking that this could go several ways, much like my musical taste.

And perhaps, the reunions of two of my favourite bands back in 1996 after long absences from the concert stage are the best example of how I mean that.

On the one hand there was the re-forming of the original lineup of Kiss.   The smoke and mirrors would have us believe that Peter, Paul, Ace and Gene had come together to give the fans what they wanted and to show all other pretenders to the throne how the "big boys do it" as lead huckster Gene put it.

So I bought a ticket and went solo, unable to convince any of my chums that this was going to be great....that somehow our 36 year old selves would be transported to a magic moment from our teen years when Kiss ruled the world, when they were the hottest band in the land and we were still full of the piss and vinegar of youth.

I was surrounded by other men of a certain age that evening in the SkyDome and we were indeed giddy with anticipation.  As the lights dimmed, we could see the shaded figures of our heroes take the stage behind the semi-translucent curtain and then we fairly burst with nostalgia infused adrenalin as the curtain gave way, the pyro was unleashed and the roar of Kiss past belched forth.

And it sucked.

The sound and playing were flabby, as were our objects of adoration.  They stood revealed as four fat, hairy old men milking it for all it was worth for every possible dollar going in front of some 45,000 devotees equally as out of sorts with their younger selves as the facsimiles on stage.

What had I been thinking? 

Which had me quite depressed as a Sex Pistols reunion date at the Molson Ampitheatre loomed.  Would it be as lame as the Kiss show had been?  The odds were not great as the Pistols were beyond upfront about their motivation behind the tour (dubbed Filthy Lucre).  It was about money plain and simple.  They had never really cashed in on their place in rock history and the time was right to correct that.

And perhaps more stark was the reality that the Pistols had never played that often live, partly a function of being largely banned for the most part from doing so in Britain during their heyday as well as the brevity of the band  as a going concern.  And the various bits and pieces of surviving live concert clips suffered from a lack of sound quality that did little to mask what was at best a thin version of the visceral power of their LP "Never Mind the Bollocks".

Expectations set low I set off for the concert feeling that anything beyond OK would be a win compared with the disappointment of the Kiss show.

This time though?  The show was magnificent.  The Pistols sounded amazing, their playing chops honed in the subsequent years to the point that they were more than up to the task of living up to the very high bar they had set with their landmark (and only) studio album.  There was a ferocity to their performance, even in Rotten's cry/boast that they were "fat, forty and back".

And we the audience celebrated this along with them.  The years fell away, our energy matching theirs for some 70 minutes or so before collectively spent, we all meandered home, feeling triumphant and well...justified in our love.

Which is where the "dating again" analogy comes into play.

What version of me is going to take the dating stage? 

The older, world weary pretender to a throne long lost and perhaps never really held.

Or the older, wiser version of my long, lost dating self reinvigorated by a kick at the can he never anticipated happening again.

A question that until further evidence unfolds I can only posit by quoting one of my other great musical loves,  the Who.

"Long live rock..be it dead or alive".

Conscious uncoupling? Beat you to it Gwyneth.

Yup...who knew the spouse emeritus and I were so ahead of the curve?

We thought we were just separating but according to Gwyneth Paltrow, we were actually engaged in the act of "consciously uncoupling".

It turns out that what we had thought was the fairly mundane act of assessing the state of our marriage, jumping the hoops of mediated counseling  and accepting and preparing for the act of going our separate ways was actually a "thing".

Which makes me wonder. 

Prior to Ms Paltrow's elevating the art of tossing in the towel to her list of life enhancing advice, recommendations and musings on her blog, goop.com, is it safe to assume that those who had come asunder before had '"unconsciously uncoupled"?

And who or what was to blame for having failed to come apart in a non-aware manner?

Perhaps starting as an unconscious coupling in the first place....or... maybe a subsequent unconscious coupling in absolutely the wrong place?

A failure to eat enough kale?

Luckily for us, our conscious coupling (previously known as getting married) involved one musician (me) and someone with a way with the written word (the spouse emeritus)...you know, just like Gwyneth and Chris,,,so at least we know it couldn't have been that. 

Might have been the lack of green stuff on my part....never trusted a foodstuff that didn't start life with a face.

It's a Swedish thing....at least it is now...according to me and by extension my co-practioner of the consciously uncoupling arts, Gwyneth.

You know, I could get used to this cutting edge lifestyle.

 

Not so much beaten...as thoroughly smoked.

"So", said the spouse emeritus as she waited for me to put a plate of pasta together for her, "I've been dating..how about you?"

This was the first time we had addressed the topic of dating since going our separate ways...not that it was a new one for us.  It was indeed a subject that came up from time to time during the last year we spent together when for all intent and purpose we were "living apart together".

Not in a particular hurry to make things more complicated than they already were, I'd opted for our not dating other people, at least not openly, until we were on our separate paths full stop.  The spouse emeritus was less dogmatic on the idea so it really was no surprise that she had dived into the dating pool shortly after going our own ways.

"Dating?", I said "Well, not really...been on a few coffee dates with women I met on-line but other than that, no".

"Well, I have...do you want to hear about it?"

"Not so much, unless you are into something serious, you know if this is someone you think might be around for awhile, someone you might introduce to our daughter that is".

"OK then, no names or anything..but I need to ask you something."

"Which is?"

"Apparently I come across as kind of bossy."

"Bossy?", I said.

"Yes..bossy..   I'm not that bossy am I"?

"You're actually quite bossy", I answered.

The spouse emeritus was a bit taken aback.  I could see that was not the answer she was looking for.

"The thing is", I said, "that's just you...it never really bothered me, I suppose I was used to it, and frankly anyone who really has a problem with that...isn't really a good fit for you."

"How is that?"

"Well, it's not like you're going to change much at this point, it's just part of you and you're pretty great, so don't sweat it....and whatever you do, don't compare how we put up with each others idiosyncrasies with how new people experience them.  We had 23 years to build up immunities."

"That's a good point..because you know...you have a lot"

"I know".

"No really...a lot"

"This is not news."

"I mean come to think of it..you're kind of a walking encyclopedia of unique behaviours",

Dinner finished pleasantly and having hit our 4-5 hours of tolerance for each other before said idiosyncrasies kicked in from both sides of the table, we said goodnight.

Now I had wondered how that first conversation would go when one or the other of us had moved past the world of 'us' into the fingleton dating pool and to be honest...it felt fine.  A huge part of our decision to split had been based on seeing twenty to thirty years ahead of us and both wanting a future that represented more than just playing out the side.  I found myself quite happy for the former Mrs and more than a little proud of her for bravely moving forward.

But there was something else that niggled.

I was comfortable with her hitting the dating scene before me.  It really felt no stranger than our daughter's first forays into that same world of exploring the mysterious world of romance.

Something was feeling strange though.....and then I saw it.

I was hit by the sudden realization that not only had the spouse emeritus begun dating before I did, but so had my Mom.

Mom had found herself in that boat, following my father's passing after a very long illness, when an old family friend (widowed some years before) rather determinedly and unexpectedly set his sights upon her.  And even more suprising to her, she was ready for companionship not that long after she had swore she had no interest in anything like that.

And I was very happy for her and comfortable with the turn her life had taken.

But the sudden notion that I was still content on the sidelines while both ex and my septuagenarian mater were out there well ahead of me having their second chapter moments?

That was a sobering thought.  And I have a feeling that something is going to have to change..maybe even my heretofore sacred idiosyncrasies.

This is about to get real.

Smells Like "Meme" Spirit

I've written before about some of the phrases that seem to come up again and again in on-line dating profiles and that there appeared to be a code attached to their meaning.  And while it is easy to generalize about whether certain words and phrases are worn almost as accessory what is it I am supposed to make of the near ubiquitious dating profile statement "spiritual but not religious"?

I ask this because it is an almost overwhelmingly universal answer on the profiles I read as an answer to the religion/faith question.

Now my sampling does not in any way represent a scientifically valid result.  And I  am clearly not a visitor to the growing number of dating sites for the religious, but in my experience the "spiritual but not religious" response greatly outstrips the number of those who identify themselves as a member of a religion (practicing or otherwise), agnostic/atheist or even the number of people who do not address the question at all.

Which makes me wonder.  Is the "spiritual but not religious" blanket answer an indicator of a cultural zeitgest or is there something  I am missing in the way a lot of people are purportedly living their lives?

I say this because while I have met numerous people who live with a profound sense of faith, I can't say I have met that many outside that group (and even within it) who struck me as particularly spiritual.  Nice?  Absolutely.  Generous?  Certainly.  Calm?  No doubt. Insightful, empathetic, balanced?  Sure.

But spiritual?

Not so much.

Which perhaps says more about my personal confusion about what the word actually means. And when in doubt I rely on that most reliable of cultural filters...the Beatles!

George Harrison started his Beatle life as the "quiet one" but by the time of Sgt Pepper he had evolved to being seen as the  "spiritual one".  Now when I think of George I think about krishna and gardening and sitars.  I also think though about acid trips, the material world and all things fab (girls, guitars and ganja).

And perhaps that provides a clue.  Maybe the spirituality people are citing now is malleable and includes all kinds of things..from the divinely connected to the most earthbound, profane or mundane in pleasure pastimes.  You know..as long as you are spiritual in it's pursuit.

So basically, if you are really into it?  Voila.  Spiritual!!  Which is why the phrase can cover pursuits as wildly divergent as bird watching and Burning Man.

So...my dedication to sourcing and sampling all Beatles related  minutiae?  Damn near saintly!

Somehow though I think we are all a bit confused by the devolution of finding a mate into something more like shopping than not.  And this confusion has us thinking "I'm actually deeper than this mere profile can convey" or "Hmm, I already spent a lot of time already describing what I want in a mate and by extension..life, maybe I better balance that with a declaration of my place in the scheme of things.  Essentially we are driven to add onto our lists, the idea that we think about loftier matters than fine dining, exotic travel and cottaging.

And since near universal participation in organized religion is very much a thing of the past in much of western society, it is up to those of us without a denominational home to announce the presence and importance of spirituality in our lives if not actually describe how we experience or nurture it.

But no matter, because in embracing the catch all phrase "spiritual but not religious" we put paid to that need and perhaps just as importantly deflect the attentions of those who prescribe to more traditional dogma.

You know it was all so much easier when I could safely just say I am agnostic or atheist (a difference I see as depending on how curmudgeonly I feel on any particular day).

Perhaps I will just say in future that I connect to my soul daily with an incantation of words that have come to mean so much to me over the years.  Now..how exactly do you spell "coo coo ca choo"?
 

Yours. Mine. Ours?

So here's the thing.

I love being a Dad and have done every step of the way from that first trip home together as a family with newborn in tow, to waving the kiddo off as she walked into her university residence sans parents.

If there is one thing the spouse emeritus and I can point to as a wholly, successful consequence of our having been together, it is indeed the wonderful young lady we brought into this world and the pleasure and pride she has provided us along the way.

That said, biologically speaking?   I can't see being a father to anyone but said daughter.

And how this will impact my future and mostly hypothetical dating life is yet to be determined, but it is something I think about.

Mostly because it is as much a qualifier in date-worthiness for me as whether someone sounds interesting or appears attractive.  And I am quite sure that it is the same on the other side of the gender divide for women still considering or actively desirous of having a child.

After all, when the spouse emeritus and I first met, I am convinced that a good deal of my suitability as a potential partner in her eyes was my nodding in agreement with her "I want to have a child in the next 18 months..how does that sound to you?" mission statement.

It was clearly a "do not pass go question" and I embraced that brave nod knowing full well that the path to fatherhood was officially underway.

But now?  I must admit to scanning down towards the "wants kids" yes/no question line in prospective dates' profiles almost as quickly as I pause at other basic descriptors.   And unless I see a "had kids, doesn't want more" or "does not want kids" choice in place, I do not invest any more thought to the "should I or shouldn't I" brave a message conundrum.

Aha, you say.  Silly old fart is yet another of those middle age men planning on dating younger.   I can assure you this is not the case.

But I understand the assumption. 

I had thought that the age skew of women I generally regarded as appropriately well seasoned in the dating sense would preclude the child question as coming up as an issue.  And yet, in my observation, a surprising number of yet to parent, well into their 40's potentials do list their child wanting status as definitely, probably or undecided.

To which I say...wow, they must already be well into the adoption process or have incredible health plans as fertility treatment goes.  And then I say...move along...not for you.

And yes I get that people date knowing that not all relationships will graduate to "serious" and the need to align intentions as go parenting desires.

But the idea of wasting someone's time whether they see themselves as a future parent soon or might later just doesn't seem fair.

Having hit the half century mark, I am all too aware that time speeds up as we age and that decisions and desires change.  And as having a child goes? Time left really does begin to matter.

Which I suppose is part of my opting out of the game as goes having another child.

Part of that decision is economic.  Getting my daughter through what looks to be a long spell in the halls of academia by contributing equally to that endeavour pretty much puts paid to the idea of being part of a new family.

Equally strong though is the sense of fatigue that picturing myself doing the kid years again conjures. Parenting was exhausting enough with a running start in my mid thirties so I will reserve my future pram pushing and diaper changing to that required when grandchildren come along.

Which does not mean, daughter of mine, that I am in any hurry to do same.

Rest assured though my love (should you be reading this and if you are..get back to your books!), I will be at your beck and call when the time comes.

the age thing..dating younger?

Back when the spouse emeritus and I had first come to the conclusion that our days together were drawing to a close, she said something along the lines of "It'll be easy for you, there are so many more single women these days..you'll be out there dating away before very long".

"And you know, it really isn't fair at all" she said.  "Your pool of available dates will be so much larger....You can easily date as young as 35.  "Women my age"?  "We have to start looking at guys up to 10 years older because of all the men who date younger".

Now, my initial reaction to this discussion was that I really didn't think I would be dating anytime soon and that the prospect of dating younger seemed ridiculous.  At least it did for me.

And by younger, let's set that parameter as thirty five to forty.  Below that seems a stretch, even if the adage that "half your age plus seven" is the lowest limit of one's accepted date-ability age range.  By that one I am apparently not in dirty old man territory as long as the women are at least 33.5 years old.

The other one I know says your age less fifteen years is fine, which puts me at a lowest limit of 38.  So let's split the difference and define "young" as my age goes as anywhere from 35 to 40, with 40 and up being more respectable and below 35 just plain wrong. 

That cleared up..here is why I was skeptical of the spouse emeritus' original assertion.

I work in a young industry and while I enjoy the energy and creativity of those younger than I (virtually everyone in my business), it is more than apparent that our cultural milestones involve an age divide that it is sometimes hard to bridge.

I notice this mostly as goes musical taste but it extends to just about everything.  Mention just about any event from one's relative youth and the most common rejoinder is "Wow...I was in public school when that happened".  Or the even worse "I wasn't even born then!".

And then there is the matter of appearing date-worthy to a younger skew.

Now my peers in years usually express amazement that i am indeed 53 ( a genetic thing as it certainly wasn't clean living that did that..my twenties can best be described as an experiment in enhanced living through chemistry).

But anyone under 40 generally just nods at my answer.

Attend a younger event and you will get a taste of this.  To those significantly less long in the tooth than ourselves (under 35),  we fifty-somethings appear every bit our age in comparison, and worse, become somewhat invisible.

So getting a younger women's attention?  A daunting challenge at best, let alone actually gathering up the gumption to arranging a date. And  I say this knowing I am reasonably well preserved, relatively stylish and if not ruggedly handsome, at least attractive to some.

As for the "gumption" thing..well..I am a bit shy at first and always have been.  In my youth I was a working musician which pretty much eliminated the need to be all that garrulous as far as meeting girls went.  I still play but have seen no evidence of that being a weapon in the arsenal of attraction at this point in my life...more's the pity.

By the way, the "attractive to some" statement is neither a knock on the spouse emeritus' taste in men or a boastful figment of my ego.  Can't have people thinking she just "settled".   I did marry "up" as go looks but I have seen bigger divides.  At least I think I have.  That may indeed be the ego talking. 

As for the truly important stuff?  Yes, she could have done better, but that is true of virtually all the paired off women I know in some way or another.  Thank god for the diversity of causality as to why women might find us men attractive.

By the way....I am suddenly cognizant that I am guilty of setting a lower limit of date age appropriateness but not an upper range.  By all logic having set a lower number some 18 years younger than my age, I should consider that absolutely fine for a woman as well.

Which would mean that i should be open to hearing from seventy-one year old women.

Hmmm..need to re-think those equations.