Dating After Divorce

Today’s topic is dating after divorce, with marriage number two (or three) in the crosshairs.  If you are dating simply for sport, see you tomorrow.  If you are dating for mating, read on.

When I was in the last throws of my 13 year marriage – having already initiated the first steps of divorce and contemplating my plunge back into the dating pool – I mistakenly envisioned it as a return to the dating world of my pre-married life.  Back then, I was...

1. a lot younger
2. a lot more successful (being a writer for several hot TV shows)
3. unencumbered by the responsibilities of parenthood, and
4. seeking women in the same boat. 

And though I didn’t break any dating records in my 20s and 30s, I was at least in the game.

So I reasoned, now that I was divorced and in my late forties (okay, my “last forties”), I’d be in even more demand as a proven marriage commodity.  After all, I was still relatively decent looking: full head of hair, fairly trim, with a tad more character in the face and some distinguished grey around the temples.  I was a devoted family man who had fought for shared custody and was proving to be an even better father on my own.  As a former comedy writer, I could still make people laugh now and again.  And though I was not independently wealthy, I was pretty well set to take care of myself, my kids, and the new woman I hoped to merge into my life (and her kids). 

Certainly, the women in my new target demo – divorced moms, divorced non-moms, and never married women in their 40s who by now have surely tired of the bad boys they had pined over for two decades – would see me now in a way those same women never saw me in my earlier incarnation.  Now, I would be the hot commodity – a stable, financially successful, committed family man and life partner.  Yup, on paper I was suddenly quite the catch.

Ha!

What I actually found in the real world was a strange new dating paradigm, where everything old is new again...times ten.  Women were not less judgmental and picky then they were in their 20s.  They were more so.  I was not more valued by them then I was before marriage and fatherhood.  I was less so.  Being a single dad and devoted family man did not make me an attractive mate.  It made me dead weight on their romantic fantasies of continuous travel, undivided attention, endless weekends of biking-hiking-jet skiing, and future children of their own.  Coming out of a long term marriage did not make me marriage material.  It made me damaged goods.

What I also found is that the Hollywood parties, show biz events, and comedy club bars that provided endless suitable potential dates in my television years were now replaced by flag football games, Scooters Jungle birthday parties, and networking mixers that contain extremely few suitable potential dates and no alcoholic beverages to help boost the potential of the unsuitable ones.  (Scooters Jungles should definitely be required to have a liquor license!)

And the women who were out there looking?  Though I had lowered my “standards” considerable (basically to women with a smaller waist line than mine), what I found was that the type of women who were somewhat reluctant to go out with me in my 20s and 30s now refused to even look at me.  Online dating?  Not if you’re over 50 or under 5’9.  (Alas, I am both!)  Bars?  Ditto.  Professional match-makers?  They simply charge single men exorbitant amounts of cash for the high honor of allowing us to wine and dine their female clients on our dime, most of whom we normally wouldn’t ask out if they were paying.  (Which they are, for the matchmaking service – making them even more picky and judgmental than one would think is humanly possible.)

Now, to be fair, it’s not like I’m God’s gift to the female of the species.  After all, I’m short, not employed fulltime (or even most-time), have no thrilling hobbies (I know more people named Harley than people who ride one), and usually not the most charismatic guy in the room (unless I'm the only guy in the room...and even then it's not a certainty).  Some people say I come off as too intense.  On dates I try very hard not to, leading me to smile a lot more than is natural, which probably just comes off as scary. 

In terms of looks – the real crux of the issue, no? – I’ve heard I resemble Michael Douglas.  But that was only from my ex-wife (one of the few positive things I took away from the marriage).  Over the years I’ve also heard Gene Wilder (probably based on our puppy dog eyes), Bill Gates (possibly due to our puppy dog chins), Ted Koppel (the basset hound jowls?), and once in college, Alfred E. Newman (likely based on all of the above).  You’re looking at the thumbnail photo.  What do you think?  Is that an undatable face?

In the plus column, I’m a second degree black belt, an accomplished writer, an unaccomplished drummer, and a top-notch parallel parker.  (Don’t scoff; it comes in handy.)  I’m also generous, mildly adventurous, delightfully friendly to waiters and other peons, and honest about everything except my height in online dating profiles.  (I’ve heard that women assume every man has added two inches, and I don’t want them thinking I’m two inches shorter than I actually am.)  About the most dishonest thing I’ve ever done is pay for one movie but stay to see a second.  (A practice I’ve long since given up in the era of video cams.)

So am I Prince Charming?  No.  A frog?  No.  On a sliding scale, I’m probably somewhere between Prince Better-Than-Average and a well-groomed court jester.

Why don’t more single women see the value in that?  We’ll visit that question in future postings.