someone thinks I’m in a pretty good place

Two weeks ago…

The other night, I went out for a cocktail with…drumroll, please…more-like-it, a man who genuinely interests me: I mean he interests me as a human, he interests me as a potential date, I am intrigued by the thought of spending time with him, getting to know him a little better and determining whether we share relationship potential …and I am interested in wild, randy, raunchy, dirty bedroom sorts of things with him. Wildly interested.

We started at a networking event, running in to people he knew before we’d even reached the bar. They looked me up and down while asking him about his divorce. And then we found my people, who gave him pretty much the equivalent treatment. And when the requisite connections were made, we found our way to another bar, sitting side by side, laughing and flirting. We shared stories and he touched my knee. We talked, confessed and went off on tangents. Every cell in my body felt awake, present and ready for whatever might happen. There was no intense or burning passion, no urgency, what I felt when with him was more like a rhythm bass, a low thrumming, or the deep, throaty idle of a powerful engine. Finally, we walked back to my car and he kissed me goodnight.

He seems not ready, in my estimation, for the things that I might be interested in doing with him. Or, if he is, he doesn’t appear to be interested in me, particularly. We came about this cocktail in a sort of very roundabout way, and he has not directly asked me out. Nor has he ever paid me any compliments about my appearance. He initiates communication with me sometimes, which suggests some level of desire to stay connected, but… Oh well, I’m not going to analyze. My ways of understanding a man’s interest are 1) that he finds a way to let me know that he finds me attractive and 2) he asks me out. So, unless or until these items are met, I have little to work with.

So there’s me, probably in the friend zone again, because I am understanding and accepting of others and I genuinely believe it’s okay to be where you are. And if not ready is where he is…well, then, there’s not a lot I can do about that. No matter how freakin’ fabulous I am — and regardless of how fun that naughtiness I have in mind is gonna be!

I think the “current state” thing about me that excites me most is a little incident that occurred at a party last weekend. I was out with friends I rarely see, all of whom went to college together. (We do not share this alma mater.) I sat next to the usual guy, whose wife was otherwise engaged, and we caught up while chatting with another couple. After it had been established that we were not “together” (no funny business here, folks), we chatted about the last year of my life — divorce, turning forty, quitting my job.

After a while, the wife (of the other couple) observed, “You seem like you’re in a very good place. You’re not completely healed, there’s still a little bit of something there…but you’re doing well.”

Why a complete stranger would say something like this to me, and why it would mean something, is a mystery. Yet it was a gift. I needed to hear that, yeah, I’m still a bit of a freak show (or hot mess, however you prefer to put it), but healing is a journey and it’s nice to hear that, at least by appearance, I’m nearly there.

And I guess maybe that it’s because I’m not fully, completely ready to meet someone special that I can be okay with an intriguing guy being unready and just leave things alone. As much as I’d like to go out and play, I don’t want to mess things up. And if he gets ready and still has no interest in me…well, I’ll have to get okay with that, too. But I’m strong enough to manage. After all, I’m nearly healed.

book report: Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert

I’ve been trying for a long time to review or comment on or find some way to share with you the delightful gooey yumminess that is Elizabeth Gilbert’s Committed: A Love Story. It’s been out for a while now and, having appreciated Eat, Pray, Love and had my own reservations and struggles with the whole concept of marriage, I was really eager to dig in.

And yet I cannot make sense of this book for you. I mean, I can tell you that it’s a study of the history and issues around marriage from the perspective of a reluctant bride. Yet there is no way for me to boil it down into a condensed and sensible takeaway because, frankly, there is just too much amazingly juicy history, research, revelation and personal drama — and that’s just in Chapter 4, Marriage and Infatuation. I’m kidding; there are many great chapters. But, in the paperback copy I bought at the local discount retailer (you know the one with the big red bullseye), pages 96 through 134 cover so much — from enlightenment to infatuation, chemistry to philosophy, addiction to personal revelation, vasopressin receptor genes, walls and windows, prenuptial agreement and confessions.

Here are just a few of the highlights:

Aristophanes mythical story of why humans so long for union with one another.
“I can no longer do infatuation. It kills me. In the end, it always puts me through the wood chipper.” Who wouldn’t appreciate this oblique reference to the Coen brothers’ Fargo?
Oh, the wisdom and revelations of the older and wiser on her second time around! The maturity with which the (very necessary, in my opinion) prenuptial agreement is discussed!
The listing of her own most deplorable faults, which she shared with her fiancée (as if he didn’t know) to ensure he knew what he was getting in to. I may attempt to do this myself here in this blog.

There is so much more in this book that makes it worth the read, particularly if you’ve tried and failed, particularly if you’ve struggled with the very notion or institution of marriage, particularly if you’ve ever felt bare, broken or vulnerable.

am I being judgmental?

Two things, really:

One. It was recently suggested to me that I was being judgmental. Okay, so if I’m completely honest, it’s not the very first time the word has been used to describe me. Yet I’ve never identified with the description. Certainly I’m opinionated (and vocal). Certainly I’m pretty convinced about what’s right for me (which can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on the moment or situation). Certainly I know what I like. But I would never describe myself as judgmental. (In fact, my Myers-Briggs type includes P for perceiving, not J for judging.) Also, I think most who know me would agree that I befriend all kinds of people. Rather than hanging in cliques, I’ve most often been a part of groups of misfits, a motley bunch of mates of all sizes, shapes, colors and personalities. While there’s a very distinct physical and psychographic “type” of guy to whom I’m attracted, I have literally dated every imaginable sort of fellow: tall, short, thin, obese, bald, hairy, intellectual, dull, artsy, rich, poor, fulfilled, empty, solid, neurotic…and I’ve been drawn to each one by some unique quality. So I don’t think the description of me as judgmental can stick, even if it appears to fit for a moment or more. Ultimately, it’s not a description that sees the full picture. But I suppose it might describe a momentary mood or short-lived behavior.

Two. I reactivated my online dating profile for a moment to take a peek at what new men might have come aboard. My intent was to pop in and then right back out if I didn’t see anything too compelling. After all, I need to focus on my new job and my children just now. But the site won’t allow me to deactivate my profile again for a week. Yikes! …so, I’ve gotten a couple of messages, including one from a fellow who might appear to be a compelling match. And he’s articulate, which has been a rather larger hurdle than you might think. (Again, one needs to be able to keep a conversation going…) And I’d normally consider meeting this fellow in person. But then I looked and saw that his annual income is half (actually less than) mine.

Again, in the past, I would not have thought twice about going out with him. What harm could it do? But now, having lived through a situation in which I supported a man (and might have been reasonably happy in said situation had certain other conditions been met), I just don’t think it’s possible. Here’s my truth now: I live in a city, a metropolitan area. Given a mortgage and a car payment and two children, there’s a certain level of income required to live even moderately well (which is to say, to not want to tear out one’s hair at the stress of wondering how to stay afloat). And this gentleman, no matter how kind and loving and supportive he might be, is just not at a level of income that could support a family…not that I’m suggesting any man should support me and my children. I’m forty. I’m independent. And it’s no longer a matter of potential, as it was in our twenties. I’m simply no longer willing to put myself into a situation wherein I’m carrying most of the financial weight for a man. Even if he’s the greatest guy on the planet or the best possible match for me. Even if he’s the most supportive and loving human alive. Even if he’s well-balanced and does something like saving animals or teaching children with special needs. I’m simply being practical. I want a mate whose pay is something a tad closer to parity. So I’m thinking that I will likely decline his invitation to meet solely because of his income…

Is that so wrong? Or am I being judgmental?

not the usual floozy

A dozen years ago in NYC…

I was at the U.S. Open of Tennis in Flushing watching the world’s top tennis greats compete. We were joined by my date’s business partner, who was headquartered overseas. I had been warned that this gentleman would be difficult to win over.

We chatted for a few moments after my date introduced us, and I quickly noticed that he was wearing a Swatch featuring Aboriginal art from the indigenous peoples of Australia. The watch was a limited-edition gift from Qantas Airlines that he had received at an exclusive event. Just moments later this man was giving me this very watch off his wrist and remarking to my date that I was clearly “not the usual floozy.”

Apparently, I’d charmed the fellow. So that’s my positioning statement for today: “not your usual floozy.”

what I want right now

I want to meet someone fun, who I look forward to seeing on a weekend.

I want to dress up and go out and be told I’m pretty.

I want to meet someone adventurous, who likes to be active, to cook, to eat, to talk, to enjoy life.

I want to share all the passion and intensity and laziness and closeness I can muster.

I want to discover amazing new sensations all over and inside my brain and heart and body.

the one before the one

For some reason, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the guy I almost married before my wasband. He lived in another country. He spoke halting and imperfect English. I spoke his language only slightly more fluently. Thus, we worked hard at communicating and we rarely took mutual understanding for granted. Yet the flow, the back-and-forth, the give-and-take of communication was always easy between us. It was the meaning and nuance to which we tended so carefully. We gently corrected one another, and neither of us took this personally or as criticism.

In fact, sometimes I think the reason our relationship worked so well when we were together was because we worked hard at communicating. In the end, distance, business and family obligations conspired against the plans we’d begun to discuss… but sometimes I wonder what if…?

coming home to an empty house

Last night…

I had a great night out — fun times and great conversations with truly amazing friends. I love nights like this!

And, at the end of the night, I came home to a child-free home…a home that seems too silent, too empty. A part of me knows I should relish this. I should take some sort of pride and joy in coming home to a place that I own (I mean, well, there is that bit with the bank…) and being able to do what I choose with my time. And I do relish a break from parenting…

Yet I can’t help but wish that I was coming home with someone or to someone special. For me, there is no great joy for me specific to being a single woman. Don’t get me wrong: I am more than fine. I am proud of my own accomplishments. I am happy with recent choices and, by and large, with my life. I am strong and my life is full. And yet there’s a sense of longing on nights like this…I still believe it could be so much better with someone to share it all.

This is not a new feeling for me. I recall a time in my early twenties when an older work colleague told me about his younger sister, a thirty-year-old lawyer and single woman, who had just bought her first home and burst into tears as he helped her move. She was filled with melancholy by this milestone. At the time, we were both flabbergasted that a successful and strong woman should feel anything but pride at her accomplishments.

And, yet, only a few years later, I met the same milestones with feelings of pride and accomplishment at my successes, countered by my own feelings of ambivalence and yearning. When one does something fantastic, one wants someone special with whom to share the experience.

Of course, as I know from experience, it could also be so much worse…I could be coming home with someone with whom I’ve just fought (as I did several times) or coming home to a stressful environment (which was especially true when we ceased fighting and, indeed, talking). Certainly neither of these situations brought much comfort, either.

And so I fill my own heart, go about living a rich and wonderful life, and leave space for the possibility that someone who has also filled his own heart, who is also living his own wonderful life, and I will one day find each other and decide to come home to each another.

what would you do if you won the lotto?

I’ve heard a lot of people lately sharing their fantasies of what they’d do if they won the lottery. What strikes me about these fantasies is their utter outlandishness…radical moves, big purchases — things like “taking a sailboat around the world” come from the mouths of folks who’ve never even sailed!

So here’s where I’m going to confess: I buy a lotto ticket every so often and I have been known to entertain a fantasy shopping spree or two. Depending on the size of the prize, my big ridiculous fantasy is to have my own private island, preferably in the Caribbean and, ideally, near to Necker Island, family getaway and business retreat to one Sir Richard Branson. (In reality, I’m not such a recluse as all that, so I’m sure a place on St. Barth’s would do nicely. And then, the pragmatic me knows that it’s just as easy to go to rent a luxurious place, because being responsible for all the maintenance of yet another property is just not a necessary addition to my life.)

And my wildest fantasies are tempered by both an innate pragmatism and my spiritual practice. I have my own happiness to tend to, and I have children to raise to be decent, unspoilt contributors to society. Studies have shown that people who’ve won the lottery end up either as broke as before, completely miserable or both.

So here’s what I’d likely do (to preserve stability and happiness) were I to win great sums of money:

Buy a nice car, because I am a bit of a gear head at heart and I truly appreciate a nice ride!
Find a nice lot not far from where I already live and build a modern house, preferably one that incorporates sustainable design, quite possibly including reclaimed shipping containers.
Start a foundation to support women & children, both in developing countries / economies and in domestic areas of disadvantage (e.g. inner cities).
Spend more time with my children.
Buy art and support artists and creativity.
Travel more.

The reason I like to look at these things is based on a very simple philosophy: I can make choices every day that support the way I want to live. I used to discuss this with my wasband. He might say something about winning the lottery and I would reply, “You already have. We already have.” We were blessed to be born into this country (in his case, he immigrated with his parents as a young child), to have earned an education, to have found someone special to with whom to share life, to have healthy children… These things, my friends, are winning! This is all that we need and more to know how truly, deeply blessed we are in this life! (…and, still, we manage to muck these things up.)

Another way to put it is, “How would you live if you knew that your prayers were already answered?” I ask myself such things regularly and then translate into present conditions. I may not have the financial wherewithal to buy a tropical island, but I can find ways in my current life to

increase the quality of time I spend with my children,
support art and artists, both locally and through etsy.com, kickstarter.com and indiegogo.com,
give to United Way and offer micro loans to women and children around the world through kiva.org,
drive a decent car,
keep up my house and property, etc.

I think you get the idea… So this is the message I want to share with you. Live as if you’ve already won! Make the choices and take the steps that support your biggest dreams. Even if the steps you take are small, each one still brings you closer to the life you desire most.

there were things I hated, too

I wrote awhile back about how much I loved simply co-habiting and sharing the daily stuff of life with a partner…

Well, as it turns out, I was having coffee with another divorced, single mother in a similar field…and we got to chatting about our personal status. She shared how much she liked having her home, routines, closets, television remote and bed to herself, and said that she not only did not miss her ex-husband, but also had no real desire to let anyone else in to her life in the same way. And then I confessed how much I loved living with someone, and we continued this conversation about benefits and shortcomings of space sharing…until suddenly the stuff I hated about living with my ex bubbled through the surface and out into the open.

For example: his retreating immediately to the living room after dinner, lying across the entire sofa with a transistor radio and headphones in his ears, listening to god-knows-what programs about UFOs and conspiracy theories and the like…

The woman across the table from me cracked a smile, which became a cackle and then a guffaw as we both began to laugh aloud, our bodies shaking, and I saw in stark relief, for the first time, how freakin’ bizarre this scene was! And I realized that, in fact, I did not love everything about living with another person, at least not when he was so emotionally checked out and disinterested in relating.

So let me revise my initial treatise to confess that I loved living with my partner…when he was a partner. Time’s passage must have colored all my memories rosy, because I seemed to have forgotten how hard it was, at times, to accept and forgive when he’d shrunk a favorite sweater in the wash or broken my grandfather’s China while doing the dishes. And it especially sucked to watch his escape into the crackle and faraway voices of a transistor radio, a stupid little hand-crankable, battery-powered device, as its allure replaced any desire for my company, closeness, unity or intimacy.

I am describing what I believe is some sort of undiagnosed, untreated mental illness…nothing extraordinary, possibly just your run-of-the-mill depression. To see it and face it is difficult enough; to suggest or cajole that a loved one seek help is even more potent; to watch as it slowly erodes any hope for a positive future is devastating. And I’m sure it’s no different from anyone else’s experience of realizing that their relationship is doomed, that the end is near and that they are utterly powerless to do anything to save it. But living with that sucked!

I am not alone…real dating horror stories

I cannot report that I’ve been super enthused about my post-divorce dating experience. I’ve experienced flaky men, very little chemistry, awkward conversations and have met online one man who sparked my interest enough for me to genuinely look forward to seeing him again. As it happens, I’m not the only one going through an unsatisfying streak…

I recently enjoyed a morning with a younger, single (never married) girlfriend who is beautiful, fit, charming, delightful, intelligent and far beyond kind. She is the kind of girl a man would be proud to bring home to meet his family and, if he wasn’t a complete idiot, might recognize that he should throw himself at her feet and beg her to spend the rest of her life with him. And soon, before some smarter man figures it out. She is that amazing!

And she is having as shockingly bad experiences (or bad luck?) as I’ve been having on the dating scene…actually, worse!

I “get” my problems dating. I still feel like a fuck-up some of the time. More-like-it suggested I’m judging harshly — and I know I’m finding excuses to not get out and meet men. I’ve got baggage and am still working to become the kind of woman who draws spectacular, loving men to me effortlessly. And, frankly, my time is precious and so are my girlfriends. I’m more inclined spend time with them than take a chance on meeting some other guy from an online dating site.

But my girlfriend? Well, her time is precious, too, and she’s got an active social life with lots of great gals. She is the girl who taught me to meet men with a camera: go up to a group of guys, and ask one of them to take a photo of you with your girlfriends — it’s an easy ice breaker and great way to start a conversation.

Here are some of the dating stories she told me during our time together:

She met a really awesome guy out one evening. They hit it off immediately and began talking, texting and spending time together. Suddenly, he didn’t call for a week. And then, when he did, he told her that his ex-wife (from whom he’s been divorced for eight months) wanted to get back together. Though she treated him horribly and initiated the divorce, he was compelled to give it another try because “it’s the right thing to do.”

With another man, she had amazing intellectual and philosophical conversations (not to mention some amazing make-out sessions)…until that night he told her he could really imagine spending his life with her, thus felt the need to lay his cards on the table. Dude is creeped out by buttons and fascinated by skeletal parts of small animals. Rarely wears suits (in fact, chose a career to accommodate) and collects the remains of small furry animals. No shit. Needless to say, her attraction evaporated pretty much on the spot. No more for me, thanks; I’ve lost my appetite.

And then there was the long-distance man she so enjoyed over the phone and via email…when they managed to be in the same city, he took her out for a lovely dinner and then suggested a walk. But before they went walking, he had to stop at his car so he could strap on his hand gun. What?! Ok, he was in the military and from a more dangerous part of town…maybe forgivable…until he began telling her this story: from his apartment window, he heard a scream and looked out to see a man dragging a woman across the parking lot forcefully by her hair. He yelled at this man to leave the woman alone. The man told him to mind his own business. So he began assembling his semi-automatic assault rifle right there in the window, aimed the laser at the abuser’s head and cocked it… Wow! Gotta love a defender of women, but you could dial 911… or you could whip out your semi-automatic assault rifle, right?

And there’s more!

She went out for lunch along the river with a man she’d met. At the restaurant, she ran into the proprietor (who she knows). Her date immediately said, “Great, I hope now we’ll get a decent table and not have to wait so long!” He also connected with her on LinkedIn and, within minutes, proceeded to make sales calls to her place of business. Ewww. She later learned this fellow is a notorious jerk with whom several unfortunate, but fabulous, women have had run ins.

I can’t claim to have had such fantastically bad luck as my girlfriend…yet, apparently these are not unusual stories among singles these days. Another girlfriend has shown up to dates who looked nothing like their profile photos — I mean they were outright using someone else’s pictures. One guy was of an entirely different race than his online photo! Just goes to show you, there are a lot of nut jobs out there…

What are your dating horror stories? I’m dying to know. Honestly, in the same way that watching The Real Housewives makes me feel grounded and serene, it makes me feel just a little less alone in this crazy dating world to know others are experiencing a little madness, too!