Wouldn’t you know it? It’s that time of year once again.

It’s almost a yearly tradition that when my birthday comes around, people start to express their concern about my relationship status. When I was dating, the question was when I would be married. When I was stupid married, the question was when I would have kids. When I was single, the question was when I would have a serious girlfriend.

hairy palm

These conversations don’t improve with time (and I can only assume they’re even worse if you’re a woman). Now that I’m barely clinging on to my 30’s for less than 2 weeks, the questions continue. I can assure you that once you’re in your mid-thirties and single, people start freaking out.

I remember many years ago I was in a miserable relationship and a friend suggested I continue in it because, after all, it would be incredibly difficult to find someone who would be accepting of someone who struggled with anxiety (stigma, much?). Needless to stay, I didn’t stay in that relationship. I’ve dated since, and although (clearly) that didn’t lead to anything more, nobody has yet to freak out over anxiety (if they did, I could probably give them meds for it so they could chill out).

A couple of years ago another friend of mine informed and educated me with the tidbit that “at my age” I would have to get used to the idea that whoever I dated was going to at least already have one child as most people my age already had done so. Now, while I have absolutely nothing against dating someone with kid(s), the assumption was amusingly wrong. I knew it then, but also dated (both seriously and casually) people who didn’t have kids afterwards.


I’ve run into amusing scenarios where acquaintances want to introduce me to a friend of theirs. Not only does that sound like a lot of pressure, the idea that my personal information is shared would stress me out. Besides, as a side note: if you describe your friend as “she’s nice” and that’s that, there’s exactly a 100% probability that I’m going to say no. While I haven’t received any underwear modeling contracts, I have pretty good vision while wearing glasses. I’d like to think that if a friend of mine described me to a girl, they could at least describe me as being moderately attractive, partially humorous and with at least average intelligence. Ladies, if my friend wants you to meet me and he says “Lee? He’s..nice.” RUN. With a complete adult vocabulary they were unable to come up with a single adjective to describe me other than saying I’m not evil. My neighbor’s dog is nice too, but I wouldn’t date it. Get out of here with that shit.

ugly gremlin

Now, as I observe my 30’s falling away from me like a fistful of sand and I watch a brand new decade looming over me like an annoying coworker reading my emails, people seem to have renewed their fears that I’ll turn into the male equivalent of a crazy cat lady.

The only person who isn’t concerned is, well, me. The only actual person who would be impacted is unconcerned. Many months ago I stopped dating someone. It taught me a lot. Before it, I thought that practically any difference between people can be worked out. While I think it’s true of interpersonal relations, I realized it’s not the same for relationships. No matter which way I viewed it, if the person I date is very religious, we are simply not going to work out. I live my life with logic and objective, verifiable facts. I can’t do it any other way. If the person I date is vegetarian, well, we won’t work out. I like cooking and I absolutely love to rarely (terrible pun) indulge on a nice, big, medium rare steak. There are differences and there are fundamental differences.

Ever since my employer voluntold us to work from home, my life revolves around: work, working out, and an online class. Some people are concerned that I don’t spend much (any) time socializing, and although it’s understandable, they’re wrong. I’m doing well at work, I’m now down 26 pounds and I’m on a 3.9 GPA. I’d say the concern is unwarranted.

Now, this does mean that I spend an incredible amount of time at home and on a computer. Because of this, friends have suggested I try to find some recreation through meetup.com. I had signed up many years ago, but the idea of going somewhere to meet strangers mortifies me. However, I started poking around a bit and was hit in the face with my new truth.

I had joined groups a while ago, such as “20’s and 30’s happy hour” or “20’s and 30’s adventures”, etc. The problem is that I’d be in my 30’s for another 13 days. I didn’t even know how I felt about that and the other group was “40’s and 50’s..” I closed the app and shook my head.

Many friends also suggested online dating. I know, I know. There’s a stigma to this. However, I have tried it. I can say that my experience had been mixed. The numbers are against me. I met one cool person (who wound up being too religious), one weird person (weird is OK, too weird for ME is a problem), 1 crazy person that scared the testosterone out of me, 1 good date that led nowhere, 1 bad date and 1 flake. Basically, it was 1:5 to the best of my memory, though I would comfortably say that I’m forgetting some.

find love.png

With that, I’m still toying with the idea since I realize that my life now is spent mostly in my apartment. Hell, most of the time I am in pajamas. It’s glorious, really, but not conducive to meeting people. It appears that I’ll have to give in, but not for all the reasons that friends mentioned in the past. Those were only reflections of their own insecurities, not a statement of my reality or my concerns. I’ll have to keep you guys posted. It should go fine. After all, I would totally date myself. I would grab my own ass. If I had to describe myself, I could certainly come up with descriptions other than that I’m “nice” (mostly because I’m not quite certain I’m nice). Still, everyone should relax. I have no biological clock ticking. I have no fear or concern about what happens next as far as relationships go. Everyone go take some anxiety medication. Trust me, you’ll feel better.

  1. Anonymous says:

    if you spend most of your time in pajamas, there is still the occasional pajama party where you would still fit in. or, you could throw one at your place and not even have to go out to fit in…

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