Vol. 1, Post #7 You’re Getting A Time Out!
Like toddlers, except with a few gray hairs. The latest in my ongoing sex tips for girls* (*girls who are holding on to midlife by a thread). A dating odyssey for Young Olds, AKA, people with readers.
For those of you who read my VDay post, in which I was a hippie dippie Love Monster, I said I’d fill you in on whether or not my guy remembered it was February 14th. He did. We had a really nice exchange while he was slinging grub to romancing couples in his restaurant, during which time he told me that he was no fan of Valentine’s Day, but that he was a big fan of ME. I wish I could say we are still all moonlight and roses, but it’s time to throw in the towel (I was originally thinking I’d be writing about squirting for this week’s post, so keep the towel reference in mind for next week’s installment).
Wait, what?
I guess I’ll give you some backstory first, a little of which you know if you’ve been following my shenanigans. While the sex is still utterly explosive, lately Mister Appenzeller and I have been holding on by a cunt hair, and we’re in very different places emotionally.
As I’ve just turned 56, it’s time to embrace a new path around the sun and put aside some things that are not working. This is one of them, even though it’s weirdly worked for years now. But I’ve recently started to pay more attention to what’s happening with Mister A. outside of the bedroom, and while we have deepened our connection in many ways and indeed love each other, the fact remains that he has another lover (his restaurant), and I don’t want to compete with her anymore.
I will miss him, not just the sex, but the man as well. We have an intellectual bond that is sometimes almost eerie in its intensity, so this is, in a word, hard. I read recently (summarizing) that when two people fall for each other and stay together, it is love; when two people fall for each other but don’t stay together, it is a love story; when two people meet and don’t see eye on eye on love, it’s poetry. Mister A. and I are a really delicious love story and I’m realizing that now it’s time to close that book and put it away on the high shelf.
So that leaves me, Dear Readers, with a decision. Am I going to start dating again soon?
The answer is no, I don’t think so. I think I’m going to rest. AND I’m going to be mindful of what sometimes happens when I take myself out of the dating game for a bit – tell me if this resonates with you Young Olds who are dating too: you start to get “worried” about the passage of time and start dating again in response to this. It’s always a mistake. More on that in a few paragraphs.
First, let me talk a little bit about why I’m taking a time out now. At this age, do you notice how tired now feels so…tiring? I’m especially tired right now. I was thinking it was a combination of the season, which will pass into spring in about a month, as well as menopause, which is here to stay. On top of that, I watched Mister A. go into a bit of a spiral lately around some deeply personal growth stuff and he isn’t interested in any support to get through it. Besides being sort of upsetting, because who wants to see a Beloved suffer, it’s exhausting to go ‘round and ‘round on this.
Are any of you watching “The Bear”? For a chef-junky like me, it’s like visiting with old friends, shrinking their relationships, seeing yourself on screen reflected in the characters, to say nothing of seeing your lovers there as well.
So as to not be the person who gives away the plot, if you ARE watching “The Bear,” then you know that one of the main characters gets involved in a heady love relationship in Season Two, and if you know that, then you also know that there is some heavy self-sabotage that happens as a result of this character thinking that “I am a rock. I am an island.” That’s where Mister A and I have ended up – in a sort of “deep freeze,”* which makes sense for all you Carmy Fans. Now, fan or no fan of “The Bear,” we can all agree that if you think of yourself as a mostly-with-your-shit-together Young Old, when someone goes into the deep freeze, you don’t follow them. Lately, I’ve found myself watching and rewatching several key episodes from Season Two, trying to glean some insight into what’s making Mister A. twitch (the show’s writers and consultants include IRL chefs and food industry veterans). Another sign it was time to move on from Mister A. When you start watching television because it feels like you’re getting relationship advice from close pals, it’s time to change the channel, or, in this instance, step away from the remote all together.
(*Even if you are not someone who has an endless fascination with chefs or food or hospitality or cooking, “The Bear” is a great watch, some of the most emotionally raw television out there today. I don’t watch much television and never saw “Friends” or much else of that ilk, but give me a cast of highly emotional creative superfreak perfectionists trying to open a restaurant? I’m in.)
Ok, so back to dating, or stepping off the dating carousel. There are two ways to look at dating after a split.
Some people – and I’m looking at one or two of my vivacious lady friends here – wholeheartedly believe in “the best way to get over someone is to get under someone.” I’ve tried that; it doesn’t work for me, but that doesn’t mean I’m poo-poo’ing it.
Since my last live-in relationship ended in 2022, I’ve had three Super Nice Guy boyfriends (all of whom I dated when Mister A. and I were on hiatus – yes, we’ve been here before. This time I’m making it stick). The three Super Nice Guy boyfriends had much in common, including this:
Great careers with lots of free time to spend with me – unlike Mister A. who can barely take off one day a week.
Disposable income to indulge in their own lifestyles/habits and to participate in any “wants” that we both dreamed up – unlike Mister A. who owns a restaurant, need I say more? Have YOU been to the grocery store lately? Jesus Fucking Christ, the price of food is INSANE.
For me, they all had the right politics (liberal), the right world views (travel is the most important experience to enjoy as you age), the same basic interest in exercise (active but not obsessive), the same sex drives (a lot, please and thank you), and the understanding that there is no talking in the morning until the first cup of coffee has been enjoyed in silence. Further:
One of the Super Nice Guy boyfriends ate pussy like a motherfucking champ. I mean, award-winning. The other two were totally fine in bed. All of them were basically up for anything when it came to sex and none of their kinks were gross outs to me.
I lasted less than 6 months with the forerunner Super Nice Guy boyfriend and few months with each of the other two. I guess I was still thinking about Mister A. and probably looking for excuses to make the Super Nice Guy boyfriends not fit. In essence, I dated all three Super Nice Guy boyfriends for all of the above reasons, as I thought, “not getting any younger, so why not?” Incorrect thinking: You are plenty young, Abbe; cut that shit out and stay in your own lane while you heal your heart.
And let me say that again for my Dear Readers in the back of the room — DO NOT confuse getting older with being too old to fall in love again, to find a partner, to experience that thrill of connection. DO. NOT. If you’re feeling hurt or worn out by a love situation that doesn’t work for you, keep reading (and this week I am right there with you, Heart-Tender Friends. Ending my thing with Mister A. is pretty tough. There is a lot of Taylor Swift currently playing in the car. Note to self: I should go back to listening to the songs I’m learning on drums.)
This is precisely the reason I am putting myself in a Time Out for the Time Being.
How I batten down the hatches:
First, I haven’t been online for quite a while now, but I did go in and “snooze” my Bumble account because I’m not in the mood for even casual chat. BTW, if you’re new to online dating, did you know that if you wanted to sniff around on Bumble, you can make an account but then go into Incognito Mode so you can look but not be seen? That’s usually my first bit of advice for anyone who wants to hold their nose and dip in a toe – lurk for a bit. (No idea if that is how the other dating apps work – I like Bumble. I met B., my last live-in partner on Bumble, as well as all three of the Super Nice Guys boyfriends there – weirdly enough, I also met one of the Super Nice Guy boyfriends concurrently in Real Life via a pal in Brooklyn. When we met, he told me, “I’m in your Bumble line, waiting for you to notice me” and he was. That was charming.)
Snoozing Bumble, by the way, is a riot. You get about five different pop-up messages that ask you, “Are you SURE you want to snooze?” as if you’ve announced that you are joining the Hare Krishnas or getting vaginal rejuvenation surgery (no thanks on both, even though the Krishna robes are basically caftans and if you know me, you know that I am a proud citizen of Caftanistan all summer long).
Before I turned off Bumble, I did take a peek at that line that one of the Super Nice Guy boyfriend mentioned he was in, waiting for me to notice – hey, Marrieds and Partnered Ups, you do know how Bumble works, right? It’s women-centric; if you’re straight, men cannot approach you, only indicate interest and wait to see if you notice them. In that “line,” there were over 3,000 men, “waiting.” Again, another laugh-riot, because some of those men are Hare Krishnas or the kind of guys who would probably offer to pay for your vaginal rejuvenation surgery. So, it’s not like there are in excess of 3,000 men waiting to date me with whom I would jibe, but, again, for the sake of this post and for the sake of this Substack, I DO think there are great, smart, attractive people online. I have been one of them.
Battening down the hatches continues.
No casual mentions to people that I hardly know that I’m single now, on the off chance that they know someone I might like to date. Refer to above. Refer to below. I am not ready for prime time.
No, or very little, alcohol or pot, at least not in this moment. As I’ve gotten older, I imbibe much much less in general and the early days of singledom is not a great time to test the tipping point on whether Abbe can or cannot use the phone. I am NEVER a fan of tipsy texting and usually have an iron-clad rule about no phone after two drinks or more than one joint. In the early days of a breakup? No no no. God forbid you end up replying to an ex’s text, especially one that just reads “Hey…”
Finally, no Vaguebooking that I’m single or, UGH, putting up a “relationship status” which indicates the same. Remember when Facebook was still sort of new and amusing, and people put up relationship statuses? I can’t remember the last time I had one up, but basically the trumpets sound and a cry is heard around the land, “ABBE IS SINGLE NOW” and even the thought of that makes me tired.
Announcing singledom on social media is an invitation for every (also single) quasi- “friend” that you’ve amassed to lean in a bit closer, usually under the guise of a ridiculous question – here’s something that happened to me last fall. An acquaintance who has sort of flirted with me for years noticed that I hadn’t posted any photos of me with a man in some time and asked me if one of my exes was still in the picture. Nope, I replied, he’s long gone. Maybe a week went by when that same guy suddenly slides into my DMs with a request for my contractor’s number, asking if he could come by to see the work my contractor did on my house a few years back. He added that he could come by in the morning before he went to work and bring pastries and we could have coffee because, “I’m curious to see if you’re as beautiful in the morning before you’re caffeinated” and suffice to say, I still haven’t answered that one.
By the way, I look like Andy Capp’s wife in the morning. Remember Andy Capp’s Hot Fries? Holy fuck, I loved those. (Also – duh – the illustration I used for this post.)
Drop me a line at whatsshovegottodowithit@gmail.com if you want to see how I’m doing as a Young Old Singleton or share how YOU’RE doing if you’re in the same boat. I’m figuring I’m sidelined till summer-ish. Then it’s open season again…
Loving your stories, hugely relating!