Unfinished Business

A month has passed, the curtain soon draws to a close on the opera ("WAH!!"), the bathroom is painted, and my taxes are still waiting to be done.

Progress? Sort of.

I met this guy in the opera. I liked him. I thought he liked me enough to want to go out with me. He apparently doesn't. This realization is both a relief and an embarrassment. Cute, and funny and bright, and nice-ish. What's not to like? Well, maybe hs belief in some self-motivational organization that gives me the willies. Just not my bag, baby.

For a while, he seemed to be giving off all the right signals, making me belly-laugh, and sharing stories about himself, and, best of all, laughing at my jokes. But here's the thing: that's where it ended. No, "Let's continue this conversation another time." No, "So, wanna go for coffee?" No, "You're really beautiful." (O.K., that last one was serious pie-in-the-sky...) Either he has decided he's not that into me, or he never was and I made up the whole stupid thing in my head.

I need a little more time, I think, to come to terms with who I truly am and want to be. I posted a profile on a personals site a few days ago, and it's making me feel uncomfortable. First, I want desperately to get attention, and it's not happening like it did five-plus years ago. One reason may be that I'm not 36 anymore. I hate to say it, but I think a lot of the guys I would half-consider for the position of 'date' (to say nothing of 'boyfriend') are trolling the personals for younger meat. I don't think I look anywhere near my early-forty years, but there's my age, pulsing like a neon light, on my profile for all to see.

The second thing giving me the willies is my queasiness at the thought of having to reject guys I don't find interesting. It's a nasty little reality of the singles scene. I've already been disregarded by the one and only fellow I sent a 'wink' to. Ouch. Must brush it off. His loss. Other, better fish in the sea. Blah, blah, blah.

The third thing that bothers me is the fact that if I did actually make contact with one of these types and find him half-way interesting, I'd have to put out. I mean socially. My introverted side quails at the thought. Well, actually, more accurately, it wants to avoid it altogether. Too much bloody effort. Much easier to stay all coy and mysterious and lazy over the Internet. My delusions about being all alluring are quickly fading.

Part of me -- a major, important part -- knows and wants to put in more effort to develop myself and feel better about who I am. I'm an interesting gal, right? Funny, articulate, intelligent, caring, giving, pretty, getting sassier every day. Appealing right? Right. I think I'll just get off the personals and get back to the business of life.

Right. Must. Finish. Taxes.