Dating has been on my mind more than ever lately.
Maybe it's because Valentine's Day is around the corner, maybe because it's winter or maybe because I went to a Guild meeting today in a jewelry store and everyone got their wedding rings cleaned but me- because I don't have one. Maybe it's because I'm 46 and never been married. And not getting any younger.
Or maybe it's because I'm tired of doing things by myself.
Not the usual things that most women won't do alone.
I'm perfectly happy going to concerts, eating out, buying a house and picking out my own jewelry.
I want someone to help me to re-light the water heater. Have you ever tried to light one by yourself? Pushing and holding down on one knob while holding back the little metal door to get to the pilot light, jugging a flashlight and a lit match. Kneeling on the concrete floor of a dark basement? Usually while wearing a bathrobe because you didn't know the water heater was out until you jumped in the shower. Praying that you don't blow up or catch your hair on fire when you strike the match by holding the match book between your teeth.
I want to jump in my truck and find the tank full. Not because I can't pump my own gas or pay for it. Because I've put almost every drop of gas in that vehicle for the last six years. For the last 5200 miles. What a treat it would be to drive past the station with out stopping every 300 miles or so.
I want to open the refrigerator and find something besides cat food, diet Pepsi and take-out containers. Not that I can't by groceries or cook. Eating alone is a challenge. Buying a loaf of bread is a commitment. A commitment to 16 grilled cheese sandwiches. A commitment to 32 pieces of toast. A commitment to feeding the birds.
I want to have plans on a Friday night. Not because I sit home on Fridays. But because I'd love to have a date.
That's all, really.