As I sat in traffic on my way to KNPR—which had invited me to sit in on a panel of single guests to discuss the trials and tribulations of not only being single, but of being single in Las Vegas ... on Valentine's Day—I thought about what I'd like to say.
I wanted to talk about the fact that over the past several years, I'd been very open to finding my significant other. That I hadn't been lazy about my search, didn't expect Mr. Wonderful to run out of gas in front of my house and knock on the door hoping to use my phone to call AAA as I sat on my couch, day after day after day, waiting complacently for him to just show up out of the blue. On the contrary, I'd been open to the possibility that he was out there somewhere, I just had to take the right steps to find him.
Believe you me, I'd taken steps; I'd taken enough steps to get me to Jersey and back at least 10 times, yet still, no Mr. Right. I'd tried the bar scene right after my divorce, and had a huge success rate at finding a ton of Mr. Right-Now's. I'd tried joining groups with similar interests, no luck there. I'd gone to singles' mixers and struck out. Hosted a singles' mixer of my own. Nothing. I'd gone online, I'd tried the "one-minute meet and match." I'd been fixed up with friends of friends, dated people from work, people from yoga, people from all walks of life, and still I was coming up empty-handed. Sure, I'd managed to meet some amazing men along the way, but nothing that stuck. Nothing that seemed to be the fit I was looking for. Of course, if I thought I'd found the perfect fit, it didn't fit him, and if I seemed to be the best fit for him, I was less than interested. It was a vicious cycle.
Maybe my expectations are just too darn high. But is it too much to ask for a healthy man with a good sense of humor and a decent FICO score?
My conclusion? Maybe love isn't something you can force. Maybe it's true that if you stop looking, love will find you, but how do you stop searching for that which you want more than anything else? If complacency doesn't yield a solid return, and investing thousands of dollars on dating services—hoping that your investment will pay dividends because you paid interest—doesn't work, then how in the hell am I supposed to find my person? And even more curious, is it realistic to believe that there is only one perfect person out there just waiting for me to bump into him and live happily ever after?
Maybe he doesn't exist. Maybe love is just an illusion that we create to make ourselves believe that our one and only exists so that we don't drown in a sea of loneliness and despair. Because truth be told, after we spend our lives trying to find our idea of the perfect mate, how long does it last until the novelty wears off and you're stuck sitting across the breakfast table from someone you don't even know anymore? Until someone who once brought you so much joy, who literally took your breath away, has somehow in the hustle and bustle of tedious everyday life become someone you'd like to choke out? How does that happen? And when it does, why don't we put as much effort into working to stay together as we did in trying to find our mate to begin with?
In a town that offers drive-through wedding chapels that enable us to be married in less than 30 minutes and divorce attorneys who enable us to bail out at the first sign of trouble in less than 30 days, is it realistic to think that true love everlasting is within the realm of possibility?
By the time I walked into the radio station, I had managed to work myself into a mad frenzy. I was jaded, cynical and damned pissed off. I was struck by the realization that I'd spent the better part of seven years as an idealistic boob desperately seeking something that probably didn't even exist to begin with.
As I shook hands with the other members of the panel, I felt sorry for them; they weren't going to like what I had to say. I smiled at Allison, a 6-foot blonde with a knockout figure and a warm smile. She is the co-owner of Dinner for 10, yet another dating service for poor, unknowing schmucks like I was only minutes before my epiphany. Then there was Lucia, a hottie little redhead with the personality to match. She was a spitfire with a great attitude, and I was shocked to find out that she is 57! She started a group called Summerlin Singles and hosts mixers for the mature dater. Finally, there was Michael.
Michael wasn't in the room for more than 20 seconds when I decided I hated him. When asked by Allison if he had ever been married, his reply was, "Nope, never have been, never will be. Why ruin a perfectly good relationship by adding a piece of paper that only complicates one's financials?"
"You've never been married or suffered through a miserable divorce and you say that?" I asked.
"Just because I've not experienced it, I'm not blind to the obvious," he said smugly.
"So, you don't know any happily married people?" I asked.
"They are the minority," he retorted. He said more throughout the morning, his words mirroring the thoughts I'd just had myself. But somehow, hearing them out loud was utterly depressing. People were losing faith. And suddenly, I was determined not to be one of them.
If there is no hope for the splendor of true love, I don't want to know about it. I'd rather live my life as a hopeful romantic holding onto the faith that he's out there, he's just waiting for me to find him.
Sonja is a writer who covers the ins and outs of relationships. Or is it the ups and downs?