This is the weekly Amplify newsletter, where you can be inspired and challenged by the voices, opinions and insights of women at The Globe and Mail. A note to readers: Amplify will be sending its last issue to subscribers on March 2. We’re so grateful for the support you’ve shown us for the past seven years, and all past issues will continue to be available for readers on The Globe’s website.
This week’s newsletter was written by Shelby Lenetsky, the manager of consumer marketing at The Globe and Mail.
The first date had been going so well. My nice, handsome, dating-app match, also in his thirties, had agreed to meet at one of my favourite bars in Toronto on a beautiful summer evening. The conversation flowed effortlessly. He graciously offered to pay the bill before asking if he could walk me home. Could this have potential? I thought as we strolled through Trinity Bellwoods Park.
Then he asked me to wait a minute before stepping a few feet away from the path to stand near a tree, his back to me.
Oh dear god. I turned away instantly, but there was no stopping the sounds from ricocheting in my ears – the zipper unzipping; the steady stream of urine hitting the soil. I stood aghast. How did I come to find myself in the same position as a dog owner waiting for their charge to finish peeing in public?
I wish the story ended there – that I simply walked away silently from my date and never heard from him again. But alas, I waited as he returned and, to my further amazement, produced a document he had been wanting to show me: his ultimate checklist of all the qualities he was looking for in a woman. I screamed internally as he read out: a girl who washes dishes.
They say life begins in your 30s, but they forgot to mention a caveat: If you’re single, life will also include navigating a hilariously chaotic romantic landscape.
Dating as a woman in your 30s is like trying to find a decent Wi-Fi signal in a crowded coffee shop – you’re surrounded by options, but they’re not all reliable, and sometimes you just end up feeling disconnected. I feel constantly caught between feelings of “I’ve still got it!” and “I’m too old for this,” while simultaneously juggling work, a social life and the existential dread of wondering whether “The One” is really out there.
Online dating is (unfortunately) an imperfect, but necessary, part of the modern dating equation. The five or six pictures you are limited to choosing for your profile are scrutinized more than a catwalk strut during fashion week. Crafting the perfect witty quips to include as part of your (very short) online profile becomes a delicate dance between self-promotion and self-deprecation. I can’t tell you the number of hours of thought that went into my use of “Lover of long walks... to the fridge,” as my online intro, thinking it would help me catch the right kind of match.
To be sure, some nice guys have shown interest, but so has one who seemed particularly enamoured by my feet, as well as a man who called his mother to pick him up from a date because it was raining outside, and one particularly crappy dude who ordered an extravagant meal before disappearing “to the bathroom,” leaving me to foot the entire bill (he was never seen or heard from again).
Of course, no discussion of dating in your thirties would be complete without addressing the inevitable ghosting phenomenon. One minute you’re exchanging witty banter, making plans for a romantic picnic in the park, and the next? Radio silence. Did they fall into a black hole? Get abducted by aliens? Or worse, did they simply lose interest after discovering my obsession with cheese? The mysteries remain unsolved.
Finding love in your thirties is also an exercise in self love – you have to be your own ally and best friend, constantly thinking about what works best for you and reminding yourself that rejection isn’t as personal as it feels. After all, how well can someone really know you after one or two dates? And if they have gotten to know you, who’s to say they’re capable of holding on to a good thing once they’ve found it?
Despite the countless tales of awkward encounters and missed connections, I refuse to lose hope. Amidst the sea of frogs, there’s bound to be a Prince Charming or two lurking among the lily pads. Rejection is par for the course, and you can’t let it deter you. It’s either that or I have my bubby set me up with someone that she met at the mall the other day (a real proposal she has made to me on several occasions).
So, if you also find yourself navigating the ups and downs of modern romance, I commend you. Here’s to embracing the craziness, laughing at the mishaps, and never giving up on the quest for love, no matter how many public park pee-ers we encounter along the way.
What else we’re thinking about:
I’ve really been enjoying the book Conversations on Love by journalist Natasha Lunn. Lunn has spent years feeling that love was “out of reach,” and so she set out to talk to experts and other writers about their experiences and to get their views on how relationships evolve with time. She divides her questions for interviewees into three sections: How do we find love? How do we sustain it? And how do we survive when we lose it?
Marianne
Marianne Kushmaniuk for The Globe and Mail
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