Not too long ago, I was at the dentist's office with Kiki, and a woman who knows someone I know was there, and she asked me about dating again. Let me be clear: she did not ask me out; she simply mentioned that I would have to think about dating again.
Let me be even more clear: I would rather tear my own leg off and beat myself in the head with it. A lot. First of all, two months is a bit soon for that. Second, the guys who are my age are interested in women in their thirties, and the guys who are ten years older are also interested in women in their thirties. I guess I would have to start cruising the retirement centers to meet someone.
I have too much to process and attend to, so there is no way I want the drama and emotional chaos attached to dating right now.
I was on a widow website tonight, and there was a post by a woman advertising her book which chronicled her love (and love life) with her husband, and then addressed how she met her physical needs once he as gone. Whoa. We are talking waaayyyy too much information, here, not to mention the sheer creepiness of reading soft porn about someone who is dead. The worst part,though, was that the writing was grammatically incorrect and choppy and could have used some serious editorial intervention.
Perhaps the editor could have tossed it into the dumpster.
It was just a thought.