Last night I took myself out on a date and got a little fresh. I gazed into my own eyes, played footsies with my other foot, and used a vibrator shaped like a Chapstick to get myself off in the bathroom. (Hint: only one of these statements is true.)
Then I went to see “Her,” the new Spike Jonze film. I’ve always loved going to movies by myself, when I lived in New York one of my favorite pastimes was to go to the Angelika and see two movies in a row. I don’t remember feeling lonely in New York, among the crushing press of humanity, even after some bad breakups. Then again, I usually had a new dude before the sperm dried.
It’s easier taking alone time, if you know you’re getting laid after.
Here in Los Angeles, I struggle when faced with the emptiness I long for when I’m with my kids. Their chaos is too much, and my solitude is too little. So the movie, about a lonely divorced man who falls in love with an Operating System voice, seemed perfect. Without spoiling anything, the automated voice allows Joaquin Pheonix’s character to be intimate enough with an inanimate being, to attempt a relationship with an actual human.
What if right now I started to date someone who is very obviously not a serious option? If hypothetically, I met a hot twenty year old guy, who was born in 1993, who showed an interest in me, that could be a reasonable way to pass the time, no? If say, we hung around in spots with really good lighting and no one carded him.
I could date someone half my age if I were a man; even Joaquin Pheonix’s ex-wife in “Her” was played by Rooney Mara, who is eleven years his junior, and looks about twenty years so. Putting aside gender politics (redundant) if I dated someone who was one when Kurt Cobain died, I would feel like a child molester. You know you’re in trouble when a guy thinks Britney Spears’ music is vintage.
No matter how much of an old soul someone is, for me age is not just a number. My ex-husband was fifteen years older than I was, and it became a problem when I turned thirty-five and wanted to fuck, and he turned fifty and wanted a nap. Up until then it was literally perfect, partly because of my outdated taste in music and movies, which meant I got all his references (except S&M Green Stamps. Wait what?)
If I started dating someone much older or much younger than myself right now, someone for whom I would be so exotic that they might be unable to see who I really am, it would be a bit like Joaquin Pheonix and his Operating System. Because I am not ready to have a real relationship (being busy dating myself and all) picking someone just so I wouldn’t have to be alone would be pointless. Especially as later tonight, once my kids are asleep, I will go to my room, get into bed, and know for certain that I won’t have sweaty palms, lose my erection or be too tired to close the deal.