Happy National Podcast Day!
Happy National Podcast Day everyone! I co-host a weekly podcast called Women of Uncertain Age with my dear friend Karen. We talk often about dating, particularly what it’s like to be divorced and no longer spring chickens like us. Turns out, most everything that afflicts us in our advanced years torments women of every age. Foibles of the heart never change!
In addition to its ageless appeal, I think our podcast addresses a few basic human needs that everyone can relate to: to love and be loved and to be understood. Our perpetual quest for these desires inspires constant analysis and discussion. Karen and I don’t, however, purport to be experts in any way on any of these subjects. We fumble our way through life and discuss our mistakes and the mistakes we observe so that we can learn from them. And we broadcast our musings on lessons learned through podcasts. At the end of the day, our hijinks and blunders simply amuse our listeners and remind them that we are all on this crazy journey together seeking happiness and love and trying to improve ourselves a little bit each day along the way.
We’ve been accused of nitpicking our dates’ missteps. Like when we were horrified at the guy who wore sweaty gym clothes to a first date at a restaurant. Or when we were baffled by the guy who arrived at 8 PM to start cooking dinner on a first date and then two hours later declared the sauce ruined and inedible. Or when the guy who never texted after a great date joined us on our show to explain why. Karen and I poke fun at these blunders because we find them funny and the best way to deal with bad dates is to laugh at them. The blunders can also reveal something deeper about the person’s character and how they approach life that makes him incompatible with us. The bottom line is this: if there’s chemistry, none of these gaffes matter and we overlook them as adorable little quirks.
I have also recently been accused of using online dating to troll for fodder for the podcast. Not true! I’m a hopeless romantic and I want to have a special someone in my life. I love the tingly feeling of anticipation that grabs my gut when I’m waiting for a guy I like to arrive. I love the way he smiles when he sees me from across the room. I love the electricity that jolts through my spine when his hand touches the small of my back. I love holding hands and stolen kisses while walking down the street on a busy Saturday afternoon for all the world to see. I love inside jokes and traveling somewhere new with him. I love being in love and I love being loved. I love love! And I like talking about love.
I also love the end of love. The wretched sadness fills up the spaces where love once abided and reminds me of how wonderful love once felt. Sometimes it feels like I’ll never find love again when I gaze wistfully at couples entwined in each other. They seem to multiply inexplicably and exponentially when I do not find myself in a state of love. However, being out of love is the state of anticipating love and everyone knows the anticipation is better than the thing itself. At least for a hopeless romantic like me.
I worry that this romantic idealism of love may make it very difficult for me to find that kind of love again. I feel justified in setting such expectations, though, because I have felt all those things before and I know they exist. In the meantime, I continue to be open to meeting men through an array of options and to talking about my search with one of my best friends and letting people eavesdrop.
[If you like our podcast, will you please subscribe on iTunes and give us a rating? THANK YOU!]