Identity Crisis

A point of clarification about the last journal entry: The only time that I attempted to date (amongst other things) teenage girls was when I was a teenage boy. Here is the genesis of the “creepy old man” comment. Over the last year or so, I have noticed a particular non verbal reaction from women that I am conserving with when my age is revealed. The reaction is the following: her eyebrows arches in surprise, the cheer from her face ebbs away, she starts to do the math in her head as to the age difference between her and me, she has on her face a befuddled look and she is wondering why I am still single and why am I in a bar hitting on her; then, the conservation between her and I loses its amativeness tone, and she makes a furtive glance around the room to find her nearest girlfriend to come find her.

Granted, I am not a stranger to being shot down. Hell, I have been shot down more times than I like to admit. Also, I do not go home and cry, whenever a woman finds out about my age and freaks out. Yet, it is disconcerting when most women act this way just about your age, and not about some particular aspect of my warped sensibilities. Lastly, I am willing to concede that I may be not looking in the right areas or the type of women that I am pursuing is not the right kind for me. Yet, this is the least of my concerns at the moment.

I am having a bit of an identity crisis at the moment. I am trying to sort out who I have been, who I am now, and what kind of man I want to become. The only thing I am able to discern so far is this: I am tired of running or going from place to place. I have made too many compromises; I have retreated too many times; I need to draw a line in the earth and make my stand, win or lose.

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