Bernice Tries Dating

It was with a great sense of relief that Bernice Franklin walked away from her latest “date.”  What had possessed her to think she couldn’t live alone for the rest of her life?  She’d get a cat; she’d be fine.

The blame lay with all those magazine and news articles about women her age finding love again, via dating sites aimed specifically at the mature woman.  She thought, well, why not her?  No one mentioned what the quality of the men might be.  Where were the winners!

Okay, she’d only been on five dates, but that might be enough of a sampling for her to realize this wasn’t going to work for her.  No. 1 talked about his divorce, how greedy his wife and children were being.  What was she, dating her ex-husband?  No. 2 spent his time talking about his dead wife and how no one could replace her.  Both 1 and 2 wanted to split the check.  Had she known that’s how it was being played, their meeting would have been for coffee only.  No. 3 was at least twenty years older, used a walker and asked if she had any nursing experience.  No. 4 was a slob, his buttons couldn’t contain the beached whale look of his naked stomach.  No. 5, the one she just finished with, talked money the whole time, asked how she was doing, re: the market.

Let’s face it, we all have baggage, but one doesn’t unpack it on first meeting someone. Or does one?  Have we all become over-sharers?

Well, she didn’t overshare because she really didn’t have any need to talk at all.  It seemed.  She was just there to listen because obviously they were more important than she was.  How long, she wondered, would it take to become a certified therapist for jerks?

Now she knew how Eden felt.  How well she recalled her daughter whining to her about all the men she didn’t meet as opposed to the ones she did.  Bernice hadn’t been sympathetic at all.  It couldn’t be that hard to find a man.  And yet—-  She owed Eden an apology.  She checked her watch.  Why not call her daughter?  At least now they’d have something in common.

When Eden said, “Mom?,” as if she were surprised to hear from her own mother—well, maybe with good reason, as Bernice was always reluctant to talk to Eden, due to her many needs—Bernice said, “Hi, honey, just back from a date; and I thought I’d call.”

“Uh oh.  How bad was it?”

“Gruesome.”

“Well, keep trying.”

“What!” Bernice exclaimed.

“I just met someone.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so—glad!  What’s he like?”

“Well, not partnership material; but I’ve engaged him with this whole Heidi business, and he’s going to look into it.”

Deflated, Bernice warned, “Eden.”

“He’s some sort of nerdy analyst, but he paid for the meal and I had filet mignon.  If any of my roommates touches my leftovers, they’re dead meat.”

“I thought you meant you met someone you could like.”

“Mom, let’s face it.  None of your kids is ever going to give you grandkids.”

“It’s not that.  I just want you to be happy.”

“Mom, none of your kids is ever going to be happy.”

Well, so much for having a sharing talk with her daughter, Bernice thought, after she hung up.  But maybe Eden was right.  Maybe she hadn’t been the mother her kids needed, given them the tools to know how to enjoy life, or at least make the best of it they could.  It was hard sometimes, raising them alone.  Oh, Jerry was there when he could be; and he definitely gave them a great head start.  They never lacked for anything.  But here they all were, in the same tipsy boat.  Frank wasn’t thrilled being a lawyer, Eden was always complaining about not having enough money, and now poor Riley, who was doing so well, called last week to let her know she didn’t get the job she was up for and now was in a quandary about what to do.

On the other hand, maybe that was a better way to live, being unsettled.  She had been so settled that she hadn’t seen the coming tidal wave of grief, the loss of a marriage she thought was rock solid and then the loss of Jerry himself.

Oh, she knew she shouldn’t care, not after he dumped her and then died in such a spectacular fashion, but there was so much to remember, so much of a life shared.  And it had been a good life.  The ending hadn’t been what she expected, no shared accommodations in an assisted living establishment.  She smiled grimly at that thought.

Lord, what was she to do?  Here she was, sixty and stranded.  How will she get off this island and back into the flow?