In four days, I will have tubal ligation surgery.
Friday evening while having drinks with a friend, she mentioned a new suitor in her life. “Nothing serious,” she said, not even mentioning his name.
“I’m guessing you found him on Tinder?” I asked, as she is the Queen of the Swipe.
“Of course,” she answered. “People don’t meet in real life anymore. I’ve spotted at least five Tinder dudes in this bar.”
Wow, I thought. If that’s the case, I’ll probably never date again.
Never. Date. Again. Dramatic? Perhaps. But entirely possible. I can’t remember the last time I met a man I found attractive. Even my last b*yfr**nd (I still choke on that word) came from reconnecting with a man I’d known for years. But the last “I’m at this party/happy hour/event and struck up a conversation with an impressive gentleman”? My friend may be right. It doesn’t happen anymore.
I thought I’d be more keen on dating once I got my tubes tied. My last relationship was plagued with “maybe she’ll change her mind if…” and likely ended because dude didn’t have anything more to hope for with me. When it ended, I told my friends “I can’t keep debating and explaining this shit over and over. I ain’t got it,” and stopped entertaining offers altogether. I wanted to be left the hell alone; to walk peacefully through life with only my desires to tend to. I still want the peace of a solitary life, but–ya know–a license to pop my privates without fear of pregnancy makes me want to pop said privates.
But if everyone meets on dating apps now (ew)* and I’m barely attracted to any of the men I encounter in real life, I might have permanent birth control nailed already.**
[*] For ME. Not “ew” for anyone else.
[**] I am absolutely still having my tubes tied.