After my series of blog posts on the Emerald Isle, which I truly enjoyed writing, it is time for me to go back to my usual sort of blogs. Over the last months I have been adding ideas, thoughts and titles for new blogs to my notepad, possible future blogs list is looking good! Busy months ahead again, that is for sure. Hopefully, I will be able to find enough inspiration to get them all done. Let’s have a cup of tea and get down to business.
I was determined to find that special someone to share life with. I had been single for just over a year, not too long one may say, but how long has one to wait to look for love again? There is no written law on that, well at least, I did not find one. So, after being in a very unhappy and unhealthy marriage, I decided to put myself back in the market, why not? Life is too short to be worrying over what others may say (isn’t that right dad!). I knew I deserved to be happy after what I had gone through. I knew I wanted to share my life with someone. I knew he was out there; it was just a matter of our paths crossing one day. What I did not know was how draining, demoralising and surreal to find a special person could be. What a journey! How I managed to go from date one up to date fifty, not sure. I guess I still blame it on my determination, my eagerness not to give up, and being a bit bold. She who perseveres, succeeds, lol.
I thought it would just be a matter of going on a few dates to strike the target. How naïve was I, indeed. I had my profile up in three dating sites. Date one, date two, date three … dates started to add up, but to my surprise, I was getting nowhere closer to succeed, at all. It was after a dozen dates when I decided to start counting them, just in case I ended up losing track of them. I grabbed a piece of paper and there I was writing down names after each number, hilarious! From ten to twenty, then to thirty, was I becoming a serial dater? I took a break, for a few months and then, there we go, back to dating and dating. Thirty become forty, with the blink of an eye. I then realised that I had reached the stunning number of fifty! In my defence I have to state that it took me nearly four years, from July 2015 to June 2019. If one does some maths, it works out as a 1.08 dates per month, lol. Well, if we deduct the break I took and the fact that I dated three of my dates for a period of two to three months, that goes up to 1.38 dates per month, still a decent rate.
Maths aside, the journey was a test in so many ways: self-esteem, patience, determination. It was also a master class on how to deal with rejection and rejecting, how to know what I was looking for, how to identity what I did not want to put up with, how to cope with frustration, and of course, how to escape from a disastrous date as quick as possible. Plenty of chancers, time wasters and cheaters. Plenty of rude men, ignorant ones, ordinary ones too. Plenty of them lacking empathy, energy, determination. The one who had uploaded a picture of ten years ago, if not twenty. The one who did not have enough strength to open the door for me. The one who at his late forties was still leaving with his parents and had no intention of moving out. The one who was sharing the house with the ex and her new partner. The one who was not able to add two and two or hold a conversation for more than one minute. The one who had addiction issues. And those, too many, who were scared of commitment. And believe me, when you think dates cannot get any worse, they do indeed. Rather than just a blog I could write a trilogy! On the other hand, I also met a few nice men, and made a couple of good friends. Including the one who introduced me to the world of Irish music, the one who encouraged me to follow my career goals, and the one who gave me great pieces of advice, and plenty of laughs.
It took me forty-five dates to be capable of deciding what I really wanted for myself and not settling for less. Date number forty-five was such a nice man, a true gentleman, we dated for nearly three months, but he was not what I was looking for. I had to break up with him, just to be true to myself. He was not ready for that, what we had was enough for him, unfortunately it was not for me. It was hard, but I had to. Proud of myself. The next five dates went from worse to worst. I was so frustrated, so devastated, so hopeless. Where was he? Did he even exist? What was I doing wrong? Actually, I needed to stop, give myself a break and just enjoy doing things again without being dating orientated.
It was a Friday evening, after a long busy week at work, I checked out what was on at the weekend in Dublin. Great, “Bloom Festival” in the Phoenix Park, I had wanted to go there for years so I bought a ticket for Saturday. Walking around gardens, plants and flowers would definitely do me good. As I was walking up to get the shuttle bus to the festival, the weather was miserable, dull, and cold despite being the first of June. Luckily the sun had decided to brighten up the day as I was wandering around the exhibition gardens. I fancied a coffee and a piece of cake. Glad I was able to find a table at the Phoenix café, because as I was looking through all the many pictures of flowers on my phone, a man asked me if the chair next to mine was taken, not yet I replied. I was well trained by then to the Irish way of sharing tables, lol. We started to talk about Bloom, plants, and flowers, and I ended up sharing my piece of cake with him. By default, he became unexpectedly unexpected my fifty-first date The rest, as they say, it is history. On that day I had finally found what I was looking for even though at that point I had not realised yet.
To all my fifty dates, thanks for the lessons, for the knowledge, and for the insights I gained a long the way. As one of my better dates said, I had to learn to enjoy the journey. On the most part, I did so, lol!
To my fifty-first date, thank you for being you and letting me be me.
As I always say, never give up. Life is full of surprises, whenever you least expected!
Jay Cee Moon ©