“It’s a dead zone.”
That’s how I described the Vancouver gay dating scene to a friend yesterday as we chatted over coffee. Might not be dead for everyone, but there aren’t any new prospects for a guy in his fifties. All the online profiles are the same. Even the photos haven’t been updated in the past five years. (Okay, ten years. I’ve been single, of and on, for ages.)
I’m okay with the quiet. I knew I was stepping back into a dating black hole when I broke up with Lance. It would seem sadder to stay with a guy just because there’s nothing else out there.
Usually when a relationship ends, I am eager to date again. Rebounds to affirm I’m an okay prospect. Maybe a few moments of fluttery nervousness before meeting someone new. It’s exciting to feel there is new potential. Maybe I can fall in love again.
When I do remember to check the dating sites these days, it takes half a minute to log in and out of both. No messages, no desire to browse profiles. I’m even enjoying the silence. I don’t feel any sense of doom that time is running out. I don’t have any regret that perhaps I’ve been too picky. (Others can make that judgment.)
I’m appreciating how simple my solitary life is. I can meet with friends once or twice a week. Or I can let the days go by. It’s an advantage of being an introvert that I can experience extended periods with almost no social needs—alone without being lonely. ‘Tis the season for silent nights, after all.