Life of a Perpetually Single Lesbian.

It was date number 25, maybe number 26. Three years prior, I had moved out of a small town and into a bigger city, not to find someone but I assumed the opportunity would present itself. And three years later, I was not only still looking but I had also started keeping track of how many dates I had gone on with women. The number was close to 25.

I thought for sure living in a small town was the reason finding someone had been impossible. Maybe that wasn't it at all. I started to wonder if something was wrong with me. Perhaps God, the universe, or whatever higher power exists, had just NEVER planned for me to meet someone. I was on the brink of giving up.

I believe it was date number 25. She was a petite, 50-year-old, blond hair and blue-eyed gal. We were sitting at a restaurant overlooking the water. In the shade, it was cool enough to be outside in Florida on an August evening. I munched lightly on a carrot covered in thick hummus and stared out into the dark, blue water that came up under the dock. She chatted away making that first date effortless on my part, I simply had to sit back and listen. She and I had met online and had been texting for about a month. I don't really know why I decided to go out with her in the first place. I knew she was 20 years older and that was really the problem... for both of us. I knew in hindsight that it wasn't going to work out.

But for some reason, I was still devastated when midway through dinner, she told me, "Look, you're stunning, if I was 20 years younger, I would totally date you."

She continued, "But the age gap...It's just too much."

It was too much, I agreed. But this was rejection number 25 and like all of the previous dates, except for one, the feeling was mutual. However, that didn't make it any better. I sat in front of her, I could feel the smile on my face drop slightly. I tried to cover up my disappointment as I responded by telling her that we were on the same page. We were. I was. I didn't really want to date someone in their 50s. She didn't want to date someone in their 30's.

She added, "You deserve more, you deserve someone who has a lot going for them. You deserve to be with someone in a long-term relationship, someone who you can spend the rest of your life with, who isn't going to be 60 years old when you're 40." She added, "I know I have a lot to offer, but I just think you're going to find someone that is more of what you're looking for and who's closer to your age."

A large white bird with black and red beady eyes, similar to a seagull, flew over and landed on a table nearby.

"Look at him. He's beautiful." She remarked, "I'm sure he's waiting for us to go so he can eat the rest of our meal."

I laughed lightly as I watched the creature, tilt his head to the side to stare at us, or at the remaining crackers, vegetables, and hummus that sat on our table.

"Listen," She stated, "I don't want you to just forget about me and never contact me again. I know you mentioned being tired of women you go on dates with who just turn around and tell you they want to be friends, but I enjoyed meeting you. I want to meet up again, okay?" It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement.

I nodded. "Of course."

We stood up and walked together towards the gate that led us out to the parking lot of the restaurant. If only she was 10 years younger... But would it have mattered? The last 40-something-year-old woman I had met had zero interest in me as well.

She hugged me goodbye.

"A girl like you won't stay single long." She winked.

I smirked at her, "I'll probably still be looking for someone by the time I'm forty, and by that point..." I let my words drift off because I didn't want to admit to myself that at that point, I'd probably just be a perpetually single lesbian.

"What?!! There's no way! Let's make a bet that you find the one you're looking for before I do." She retorted.

"I'll bet on you finding someone first," I replied as I took her outstretched hand and shook it.

She doesn't realize, I've been single my whole life.