About eight years or so ago, I decided I didn’t want to date anymore. I made that choice for a few reasons. For practically a decade, I have been super happy with this decision. It has been a very pleasant and drama-free era in my life. However, there was an unfortunate side-effect to my self-imposed isolation.
Remember how Guinevere hid out in a convent because she was afraid of Mordred and too ashamed to face King Arthur? Well, if avoiding men was the lady's goal, she could just as easily have fled to an elementary school. Sequestered amongst six-year-olds and exhausted teachers, she would have pretty much been guaranteed to never see another man again. Unfortunately, after a few years of being hidden away, she would've also eventually lost the will to shave her legs, grooming herself only two or three times a year for parent/teacher conferences. As time crept on, it would have one day made sense to try cutting her own hair rather than pay good money for someone else to do it because, “hey, it ain’t like Lancelot’s gonna’ see me!”
Medieval Groomin' (for optimum comic effect,imagine Jeff Lynne singing.)
I know that this would have happened to Guinevere because it happened to me…and I’m pretty sure she was an Aries, too.
So there I was, not giving much of a doo-doo about my appearance. Then I got a job at a library. In this new setting, I felt I should dress as if I were no longer spending half of my day sitting or kneeling on a classroom floor. And there were guys around. That was a bit of a shock to my system. Yet, a strange compulsion came over me, like the natural instinct of a cockatiel to preen its feathers – “Oh, yeah, ladies shave their legs.”
Then something completely unexpected happened. Maybe this little bit of sprucing up was an improvement or maybe my inner confidence in who I am was shining through. Or maybe my poor eyesight serves me well…’cause here’s an embarrassing fact: no matter how fat, old or worn out I get, I still see my 20-year-old self in the mirror and I walk around as if that’s exactly how I look. That’s why I’m never going to get Lasik surgery, thank you very much.
Whatever the reason, I was shocked to find myself the subject of some male attention. Now, don’t get all excited, Reader. It was fun but after a few hilarious, potentially blog-worthy “dates”, he and I have both already moved on. The only reason that I am sharing this experience of unexpected attention is that during my bout of reckless, mid-life flirtation, I noted both benefits and drawbacks to the subsequent romantic high that affected my day-to-day behaviors. As a blogger, I felt it my duty to share these pros and cons with my more mature, single, female readers so they can carefully weigh the positive and negative consequences of shaving their legs and not suppressing their charming personality.
If you feel you are in danger of inadvertently attracting the attentions of a shamelessly flirtatious man, meet me here at The Crooked Clothesline next Thursday. You might learn a thing or two from my pile of dirty laundry that needs a good airing.