Dating, after not dating for 16+ years, is, in a word, weird! And Internet dating is weirder. I was never a big dater, in general, and the Internet exploded around the time I met my ex, so both “dating” and “online dating” are unfamiliar and awkward territories in which I now find myself. And nearly every time I’ve had a date, I’ve wanted to back out at the last minute. Endlessly negative thoughts ranging from “this will be a complete waste of my precious free time” to “he’ll never be attracted to me, what’s the point,” to “he’s probably a psychopath” convince me I should stay home.
But my shrink told me that’s a no-no; no catastrophizing, no canceling! (Ok, another confession: I have a history with canceling–we’re good, old friends–canceling always makes me feel better in the moment.)
Gotta go out once you make the date, shrink said, because “you need the experience and you need to get out of your comfort zone.”
So, since the beginning of the year, I’ve had more than a dozen dates. A drink here, coffee, dinner there.
There was The Investment Jew–the only one I dated more than once–who intrigued me and made me laugh and was a decent, if mysterious, fellow, but the fact that he’d never had a relationship longer than 2 years, had more to say about our dogs than about Toby, was a hardcore NYer, and leaned to the Right politically just sent me away in the end.
The Parisian Jew who checked his watch and his phone and wanted to leave the minute I walked into the coffee house (apparently I wasn’t the drop-dead gorgeous, flat-stomached blonde he thought he saw in my online pictures).
The Marathon Dad I was really interested in but who had his eyes on his crackberry for the entire coffee.
The Therapist Jew, who was just about the most full-of-shit, self-important dude I’ve met! (what I loved most about him was that he’d never been married, had no kids, was Narcissus’s chief rival, and was a marriage and family therapist.)
The Triathlete Jew, who took me to the best sushi in LA and who never asked me a single question about me–and I do mean never.
The Guy With the Dying Mother (she died while we were e-corresponding) who was just plain strange and who also seemed to take offense to my calling Roman Polanski a child molester.
The Israeli, who told me many times how insane his ex was.
The guy I wasn’t attracted to in any way and whose soon-to-be-ex was still living with him, I learned at our drink.
And, finally, the Electrician With the Dog, whom Reuben (dog) and I met on a walk in the neighborhood, and who seems, at seven years younger than I!, the only one very interested in me. And perhaps that, along with many other issues that deserve a post of their own, is why I am running very fast in the opposite direction.
The shrink says “good!” to this dating journal and insists that this is all a necessary learning experience, training, a dusting off, a tune up–and then one day, she claims, I’m going to meet someone in line at Starbucks. But what does that mean? Meet someone I want to date? Someone to have a “relationship” with? Someone I want to get naked with? Someone I want to marry? Therein lies the rub. I don’t think I’m ready for ANY of this. 
I don’t know what I want–I simply know what I don’t want.
Wait! That’s not true! I DO know what I want–I want to get naked with Peter Krause (he’s “Adam” in the new TV show Parenthood, formerly “Nate Fisher” in “Six Feet Under”)!!! I usually don’t fantasize about celebrities. Really, this is true. But Peter Krause has inspired and unleashed the GIRL in me. I’ve told everyone I know about my crush and have even gone so far as to tap my industry connections. No luck. Yet.
