The Biggest Criticism of My Dating Advice

Lonely men, rotational dating and avoiding marriage

Hi lovelies! This is a very personal essay, so welcome to storytime with Nefertiti - here is one of the biggest critiques of my dating formula. I practice what I preach, but this was something I never considered. Be compassionate, and we all have much to learn.

A spoiler from this essay:

My venture into dating him, a man two decades my senior, initially bore no intentions of commitment. It was meant to be a journey of shared experiences, a celebration of youth and beauty exchanged for wisdom and companionship. I sought nothing more than his time, energy, and affection, indifferent to material gestures or grand dates. Despite my intentions, he, amidst his busy schedule, showered me with thoughtful gifts and romantic dates.

A accurate depiction of me on my third date with him

Yet, as the chapters of our romance unfolded, a growing melancholy settled within me. The juxtaposition of my happiest self during our love-filled dates against the backdrop of his persistent loneliness became increasingly stark. While he reveled in solitude and had friends and family, the absence of a woman – a wife – weighed on him, he didn’t know it, but as a woman who wanted to provide it, I knew it. It wasn't about the lack of company; it was the yearning for a partner who could share his burdens, offer love, brings rest and peace, provide moments of indulgence, nurture him back to health, and elicit smiles, butterflies, companionship, and adoration.

In the early chapters of my now love story, the ink on his divorce papers were still fresh, a tentative period of uncertainties and unspoken fears. My mother, wise and ever-protective, voiced the concerns that danced like shadows in her eyes. "Do not date him," she urged, her worry etched in the furrows of her brow. It wasn't a matter of disliking him; it was a matter of foresight, a mother's instinct whispering caution.

My dating approach, a carousel of transient connections, had become a canvas of romantic hues for my mother to scrutinize. Yet, it was his place in that “rotational dating” that unsettled her. It wasn't about disapproval for him; it was about the profound alignment she perceived, a cosmic connection too potent for casual dalliances. She envisioned a perfect union, a pairing that transcended the ephemeral dance of dating, but she had no visions of marriage in our immediate future.

Her concerns emanated from a deeper place, rooted in the empathy of a woman who understood the heart of a man who had weathered the storm of abandonment. A man who had known the chill of loneliness for a considerable stretch of time, a solitude that could carve valleys into the soul. She painted a poignant narrative – when a man, long adrift in the sea of his own solitude, finally finds solace in love, the prospect of losing it becomes an abyss. Walk away, and you become the architect of the haunting loneliness he will carry like a silent companion for the rest of his days.

As I navigated the delicate terrain of love amidst the debris of a past relationship, my mother's words were a compass, pointing to the precipice of potential heartbreak. She saw the fragility of a man rediscovering the melody of love after a long silence. A melody that, once disrupted, could resonate as a haunting tune in the corridors of memory.

The journey unfolded with tenderness and trepidation. We wove moments into a tapestry of shared laughter, whispered confidences, and stolen glances that spoke volumes. Yet, the echo of my mother's caution lingered, a gentle reminder of the vulnerability that comes with mending a heart bruised by betrayal.