Musings of an Older Woman

Recently I started dating again, and wow—there is nothing like putting yourself back out there to recycle your inner shit. It’s a challenge that I am cherishing right now. I have never felt too confident in the dating field, I know I am attractive in a bright and bubbly sort of way, not beautiful, interesting, and I am happy with myself and love myself after all these years, or so I thought.

After a couple of dates with Men slightly older than me, where the topic of conversation was Centrelink(!!) I was contacted by a younger man, conversation was better but it also brought up all my insecurities. We went to breakfast, I really enjoyed his company and found him, well there is only one word for it, he was HOT, which brought up all my fears and suspicions. What would a guy like that want with a woman like me? My mind had a field day. He was sweet though, and by the second date, I realised that he was never going to be long term relationship material for me, but there was a strong physical attraction. Was I ready for some action? Was I that kind of woman? (You know, the kind of woman that your mother turned her nose up at and you really didn’t know why, until you knew why!) You betcha I was; it had been five long years since my pleasure palace had seen any outside action. I contemplated, for approximately five seconds, and then carnal desires won over, and we spent a great night together having wonderful sex.

Now this is where it got tricky for me. Because I didn’t hear from him, I spent the next few days projecting ‘my stuff’ on to him. He was a player. He was only after sex. He was a user. He was obviously doing this all the time, he was a CAD (a new word I learnt). I made all sorts of assumptions based on my projections. It didn’t matter to me that I had already decided he was NOT someone who I wanted to date long term, I wasn’t about to take responsibility for my decisions and actions. His brother, it turned out, had been rushed to hospital.

When I looked at my tendency to blame him, as a way for me to NOT feel what I was feeling it became very clear. I was feeling shame, and I was judging myself very harshly. I have in the past confused sex with love and instead of owning my “naughty” healthy sexual side, I was projecting it on to him. In fact, realisation hit me, I was the player, I was only after sex, I was the user, could it be that I was a slut?

Society would have us believe that women are sluts if they engage in sex in anyway outside the confines of marriage or relationship, whilst men are considered more masculine. Yes, it’s a double standard, and it is one that I have bought into. It doesn’t fit the “Fairy tale mould” that I was brought up on. The word Slut, is not a “nice” word, its connotations are what every nice girl fears because who is going to marry a slut?

I was actually judging myself for failing to meet the “nice girl” tag that I had given myself. This caused me to have unreal expectations of him, and even though I knew I did not want a relationship with this man, I needed to pretend I did, so I could do anything except face my own feelings.

So, the learning in this, has simply been to accept myself, sexy, slutty woman too. When I stop myself from blaming others for my actions, I discover the feelings I am not willing to face or a side of myself that I am rejecting and judging, then I have no choice but to take responsibility and own it, and here is the surprise, when I do that I come back to Loving myself.