Natural Selection
One nice thing about hearing the dreaded biological clock
I had been dating Alex – a college classmate, newly divorced – for about a month when he initiated our first where-is-this-going talk. Alex said he liked me. He said he didn’t want to go out with anyone but me. Then he said he wasn’t sure he ever wanted a committed relationship again, but he would really like to keep seeing me a few times a week as long as I understood his situation. Did I understand?
I told him I understood. Then I told him I didn’t think we should see each other anymore.
It was an odd parting of the ways with someone I liked who also liked me. And it was something of a watershed moment: the first time I’ve made a romantic decision based on the notion that a 32-year-old woman who probably wants children should not be spending too much time with a man who is ambivalent about even the possibility of commitment – not just to me, but to anyone.
Soon after, another college friend called to say he had broken up with his girlfriend because he did not think they would be compatible long term. “I like her,” Fred said, “but I don’t love her. If I were five years younger, I definitely would not have ended it.”
Like me, Fred felt a tension between his short-term and long-term goals, between an immediate desire for attraction and fun and a future interest in a lifelong companion and a family. It is difficult to end something temporary and pleasant in the hopes of finding something permanent, even when you know darn well that Mr. Right Now is distracting you from meeting Mr. Right. There will still be that moment when you go home, gaze around your empty apartment, and wonder why, exactly, you just told that nice, snuggly person that you don’t want to snuggle anymore. In Fred’s case, all his wondering led to regret; he decided to make another go of it with Ms. Right Now. When we swapped notes, he sounded sheepish. “I got lonely,” he admitted. “Besides, I figure I have plenty of time to find a wife. My biological clock isn’t ticking the way yours is.”
He was not, I think, being smug – he was just pointing out a genuine difference between men and women our age. I stuck my tongue out at him anyway. And for a few days, I indulged in grumpy thoughts about the sexism inherent in biology and the unfairness of it all.
Then I had a revelation: I did not want to get back together with Alex, but it wasn’t just because he was unlikely to become a long-term partner. Once I knew that for him, dating was just about dating and not about finding a mate, I actually found him less attractive and less fun.
So one nice thing about the dreaded biological clock – or maybe just about experience – is that the qualities I find attractive in men seem to be changing. An openness to commitment appeals to me in a way that it didn’t five years ago; a fear of long-term closeness is increasingly unattractive. More and more, my long-term and short-term dating goals are one and the same.
I have been convinced for some time that measuring dates against a set of predetermined requirements can be dangerous – that by creating firm height cutoffs or insisting on a certain professional background, you might accidentally weed out some great people. Some might argue that Alex makes a good case for a dating checklist, and that from now on, I should only date men who have been single for at least eight months, four days, and six hours. But I’m not sorry I went out with him. For one, he is a nice person. For another, I now know our incompatibility is based on reality, not perception.
Besides, our encounter made me conscious of a shift in my own priorities and desires. It’s a shift that will, I hope, lead to good things in the future. And – though I never thought I’d say this – a shift that makes me grateful for the almighty clock.
Alison Lobron lives in Concord. E-mail comments to coupling@globe.com. 