Have you missed me? I’ve been so busy this past week my head is spinning:
So today I enjoyed lunch at an ethnic bistro tucked away in a part of town I don’t normally get to. “Why?”
Because I was on my fourth first date in as many days.
Here’s a summary:
At any rate, here are some self observations:
In any case, I’d better rest up (and save my pocket change for the sitter) — on my next available weekend, I’m going to be dripping in dates!
I never got a chance to discuss my new dating philosophy last autumn, because I went straight from not seeing anyone to seeing someone exclusively. Which was kind of against my new philosophy, really. But it’s not always easy to implement a philosophy into action when it’s new, right?
So here goes:
I’m meeting people and I’m enjoying every experience. I’m learning more about my likes and dislikes and myself in relation to experiences with others. Liken it to being in a chocolate boutique, trying a small amount of that which looks good to me and continuing to circle the store, checking out the options, sampling as I go, believing that I’ll know when I find the flavor that’s a perfect fit for my palate. Except that I’m engaging more than my senses of taste and smell, but also my feelings and intellect.
As I woman, my natural tendency is to become too easily drawn in to the notion that the one I’m seeing could be the one — and developing those kinds of hopeful, yearning, attached feelings too early on can be unhealthy. It’s when we get caught in that place that we allow ourselves to be treated as “less than,” to get too physical before we’re emotionally prepared or on the same page as a man, or stand on unequal footing from our male counterpart who is “just dating.” In other words, I’m trying to view dating more like a man does — as a fun process of getting to meet people, get to know them and take my time determining whether they’re someone I’d like in my life.
I’m not alone in this approach. In fact, I’ve been clued in by the teachings of Mama Gena and by learning about what Rori Raye calls “circular dating.”
As such, I’ve become better at being direct about certain things while suspending judgement about others. And I’m having fun! I’ll write more about the dates I’ve had this weekend a little later.
It’s been a while since I’ve dropped in for a simple status update, so here it is:
You see? It really is the simple things that bring so much joy.
What else have I brought up that I need to close the loop? Let me know if there’s something you’re dying to hear about.
I seem to be a bit of a hot item since going back online (don’t worry — I won’t let it go to my head), and this weekend I went on not one, but two, first dates. Here’s what I have to report:
I wasn’t particularly looking forward to either meeting; I was going out to get in the habit of going out, as I said yesterday. But I managed to have a lot of fun getting to know each of the guys, even if I don’t genuinely believe there’s any real relationship potential with either of them.
My first date, drinks on an outdoor patio, got off to a somewhat slow and awkward start and ended with an even more awkward kiss — the kind of exaggerated, dry pucker you might exchange with a distant grandparent. The intervening 90 minutes or so limped along all right, but I felt as though I were entertaining, rather than it being a mutual exchange. Luckily, I am entirely capable of amusing myself — and others, it would seem. Certainly, I was hoping for someone with a little stronger personality, a little more able to hold his own when seated across from a woman he clearly found attractive. But the true kiss of death was what seemed to be a lack of intellectual curiosity…and his feeble, “Let me know if you want to go out again.”
Probably he was relieved when I sent him a note several hours later letting him know what a pleasure it was to meet a genuine, kind gentleman, but that I just didn’t feel a spark.
For coffee this morning, I met someone who had the personality to stand up to some playful banter. He seemed to have some mature relationship experience, interests of his own and a deep caring for his family. He showed substance, sincerity and kindness. We share some interests in common…yet still lacked the kind of “brain sparks” that will keep me interested in the long run. We’ve agreed to keep in touch, and may go out again with the understanding that it’s not likely to come to anything more than friendship.
I suspected the results of these two dates might be as they turned out, but I went anyway…because you never know until you try.
I have a date this afternoon. I’m not at all looking forward to it. I am, in fact, stalling when I might be changing my clothes, putting on make-up and other such preparations.
So why am I going?
Because I feel it’s important to shift back in to a more open attitude about meeting new people, benefit in whatever way I can from each interaction with someone new (and by that, I don’t mean a free cocktail), learn about myself and get comfortable enjoying myself interacting with men.
Put another way: I feel as though I am headed in to some sort of self-improvement exercise…and, today, for whatever reason, I am dreading it.
Perhaps it is because there is a question on the online dating site I’m currently using as my “matchmaker” that asks: “Do you think women have an obligation to keep their legs shaved?” and I have a differing view from the fellow I’m meeting today. I’m not sure why this particular issue has me tweaked today — surely issues of politics, religion and values are far more important — but it raises my feminist ire. How dare another say someone has an “obligation” to maintain such a thing. Fact: hair grows. Fact: most people I know describe their lives as “busy.” I simply think it’s fascist to proclaim that another human being should make this a higher priority than, say, …um, well, anything important.
Truth is, I tend to keep my legs shaved (about twice a week) during the summer. My hair is light and no one can tell if I haven’t shaved, unless they get close enough to feel the prickles of tiny hair sprouting. I shave regularly because it is my personal preference to do so, not because I feel “obligated.” In the winter, I sometimes let it go longer. I suspect that just about anyone who’s been married has enjoyed / endured physical closeness with a partner who may not be freshly shaven. That’s a part of what intimacy is about. And adjusting some grooming routines to meet a partner’s desires sometimes is also part of what intimacy is about. What’s more important is how such preferences, desires and behaviors are communicated and shared.
Don’t worry — I will shift my mindset in time to enjoy whatever today’s “date” brings. Curiosity alone is already putting a smile on my face…
But I won’t shave; I did that yesterday.
It’s been rather vexing lately to wake and find company in my bed: namely, a ten-year-old and her stuffed friend. I was complaining about this trend to my former boyfriend recently, who remarked, “You should enjoy this while you can — it’s not going to last forever.”
True enough. I shall quit my bitching.
And then said he followed up with, “Do you even see yourself ever allowing a man to share your bed?”
I was shocked.
In a word: YES! Good lord, of course I hope to share my bed with some fabulous man — and sooner rather than later. (He should know: many nights I’d shared it with him.)
But it’s not just all about sharing a bed, is it? There’s much more to this love and compatibility and companionship business…which is why I intend to take my time to find the one I’m going to want in my bed for the next half a century or so. Which is longer than I’ve been alive so far and the last guy made twelve years seem like a mighty long time, so it’s a lot to contemplate. (Well, to be fair, only the last few years seemed like the misery would never end.)
At any rate, there is room in my bed for two…and preferably, for someone other than my ten-year-old to poke me in the ribs and tell me to roll over so that I stop snoring. Yes, I welcome it!
Today’s post is inspired by both personal experience and…I’m almost ashamed to admit it: a guilty pleasure, The Bachelorette. On this evening’s episode, one young man bravely proffered his opinion that going into a relationship with a woman who had a child was a “compromise” — one he was willing to make, but a compromise nonetheless.
Big mistake…a mistake on the order of a guy saying he’s “babysitting” his own children (in which case he means parenting).
I’ve actually heard this before and been taken aback, and I was offended for Emily before she responded as such herself… Certainly relationships are full of compromises. Certainly people who have children make many compromises. But in trying to win the heart of a parent, describing going into a relationship with them as “making a compromise” because they have a child or children is a sure loser.
Here’s why: every good parent knows that our children give us so much more in the way of life lessons, tenderness, blessings and love, and that these things far outweigh the laundry list of obligations, compromises and costs of raising children. No amount of dirty diapers, spit-up stained clothing, expense, nights at (sometimes terrible) school concerts versus rock concerts, nights in versus nights out, cleaning up vomit, using vacation days to care for a sick child and more can ever compare to the joy, love, warmth, pride and purpose of nurturing these young people to pursue their own passions and grow into their potential.
In other words, if you’re thinking of getting serious with a single parent, you’ll do yourself and your relationship a favor by considering it an absolute honor to take on the role of step-parent to another’s child(ren). And, at least as importantly, you should feel honored that another human being holds you in high enough esteem to think you might make a good step-parent to his or her child(ren).
I have one of those daily horoscope apps on my smart phone. Today, it had this message for me:
“Pretend for a moment that love is like a star in the sky. It twinkles in the distance. It is surrounded by darkness. It is far away and unattainable. You can’t…get in your rocket ship and soar to a star. If you have felt cynical or hopeless about having the best kind of love in your life, it may be because you are — without realizing it — thinking of it as something you cannot really have. But you can. And the time has never been better. Take the first step…”
Hmmm…a thinker: both challenging and really, really nice. I’m open…
Life’s been a little crazy, y’all, so I haven’t had much time to write. There are children’s club or school activities each night, and much mayhem in the workplace. Here’s the rest in a nutshell:
Stay tuned…
the life and loves of Alisa B 