Midlife Men

I do believe that the men that I am chatting with on the dating app are having midlife crises. One of them messages me about how he doesn't know where his life is going. Another is experiencing grief from losing his job, has to move out of his house, and is lost as to what he is going to do when he gets back to Atlanta. This other guy is refusing to get back surgery even though it would surely return him to his former quality of life, and another is going back and forth ad nauseam about coloring his beard. They seem pretty frazzled, and I am trying to be understanding because I hear that is what men like, but their complaining is lowkey making my anxiety rise. I don't really know what to tell them. My life is also a hot mess! 

Listening to these men discuss their problems makes me wonder if I am really ready to be in a partnership. I mean, I am 41. If not now, when? However, upon reflection, I think that I am ready for the hugging and snuggling, not the part where I need to provide emotional support and be a light in someone's life. Truth be told, I am happier with the lights off. I feel the calmest in the dark. I also feel calm when I am not juggling 110 balls in the air. Changing that number to 111 to account for someone else's issues could drive me to the edge! 

One could argue that the whole point of having a partner is having someone to walk through life with you; to pick you up when you are down and help you to work through things. I mean, that really sounds beautiful. I am not sure how beautiful my version of this would be. I can't stand dealing with life, especially not someone else's life. Maybe what I am looking for is not a traditional partnership. We all know what a friend with benefits is. Do you think I can find a man interested in that minus the sex and emotional drain? Perhaps a friend with no benefits? I am fully aware that I type this as I inch closer and closer to my personal deadline to find love. I would call it quits now, but what would be the benefit in that? 

Midlife

Is there any test I can take to confirm I'm in a midlife crisis? Of late, I have woken up in the middle of the night to cry, listen to jazz, and write emo poetry. I have not been this emotional since middle school. There was always something to be emotional about in middle school, but that's only because every day was a fresh hell. Plus, I had just started getting periods, and the sound of someone breathing made me want to body slam them. I'm one poem away from taking this sad act on the road. Help! 

Special

Can women have a midlife crisis? I know that I had a quarter-life crisis. Maybe I am just consistently in crisis. It's hard for me to tell. I have always been overly reflective and a little moody. But I do find that I have had a lot of questions about life as of late. One question that I find myself constantly nibbling on is when it is a good idea to give up on your dreams. At what point do you accept that you are never going to be a runway model or an NBA player and go get a job at Wal-Mart? Today I wondered if I have been asking myself the wrong question. For me, I think that the real question is, when do you accept that you are not special?

Throughout my life, I have felt that I am special, which is ironic, considering I didn't grow up with any money or any type of privilege. However, I always thought that I was a good writer without anyone co-signing this fact. I felt that I was funny and cool, even if no one else agreed. I have also always felt that I am a little psychic and very intuitive. People generally like me, and I am even a good whistler. As you can see, for a long time, I have been getting high on the supply that is me. 

Because of this, I had very high expectations for myself. I had this amazing life mapped out in my head without really having a plan to achieve it. But that was okay, because I was special, and as long as I stayed true to my dreams, a yellow brick road would appear out of nowhere and lead me to the promised land that was my achingly bright future. 

NOT! 

At my big age, I can tell you I am not special. On the low end, I am someone who does okay at stringing a sentence together, and on the high end, I have an undeserved high opinion of myself that has led me astray. I think that it is beyond time that I come to terms with the fact that I am not special. At most, I am a nice lady stringing together an existence. Sadly, I am under not special. Below average. Unremarkably underwhelming. In about a year, any talent I thought I had will be replaced by AI. I'm humorous, but not really. I just know how to word things in an interesting manner. I'd say that I am useless, but that is not true. There has to be someone around to stand as a proud example of what not to be. And with this in mind, I take a bow. 

It is with a heavy heart that I report that I have most likely wasted half of my life thinking that I am special, and it has gotten me nowhere fast. Where did I get off thinking that I was special in any way? I should have never believed Barney when he said that I was. Jerk.