waking from a magnificent dream

This morning, on the verge of sleep and wakefulness, I dreamt / saw this vision:

I was at the edge of the arctic, standing on what I thought was solid ground. I placed a stake in the ground, and suddenly realized that the apparent earth I’d been standing on was a floating chunk of ice, drifting out to sea — like the hungry, solitary polar bear you’ve seen in a documentary.

There was a moment of panic as I realized I would be lost, cold and alone, adrift on the frigid sea. And then, a mere breath later, as I found my balance on this gently rocking ice raft, I looked around and realized the sea was full of people like me: I was drifting into a community of free-floating individuals, none of whom looked cold, alone or afraid. In fact, they were smiling.

Another deep breath…and then I knew I didn’t need to be afraid, either. I felt welcome.

spring status update

I think I thought I knew what I was looking for. I think I thought I was ready to meet someone special. But the more I put myself out there, the more I realize how cautious and self-protective I am, and it seems that all this dating business is a lot of work.

I mean, there have been some guys with whom it doesn’t seem like work at all — in fact, those are the ones I’ve mostly written about here. Chi-guy and more-like-it come to mind. I think I could talk to either for an eternity without getting bored or having to manufacture the next topic of conversation. And yet neither really put the moves on, either…and a guy’s got to express a little bit of romantic interest for this to work.

Other guys I’ve met have been much more eager to touch me, kiss me, do the more “dating-like” things with me, but they haven’t been as easy conversationalists. And, when one is considering the importance of long-term companionship, the ease with which conversation flows matters.

Still other men have proven to be incredible flakes. One instant messaged me to ask if we could meet that very evening, and then removed his profile completely only moments later. In fact, a few have removed profiles in the midst of a dialogue, which I find somewhat strange. (Though I may be about to do that very thing myself…)

The healthiest and most satisfying relationships I’ve had have begun as friendships. But I’ve seen a great deal of dating advice that cautions against hoping that a friendship will ever lead to more. Furthermore, it seems a little off to put oneself out there on a dating site and then suggest that one is interested in developing new friendships. That sounds a little too disingenuous — like friends with benefits. Which is not what I’m looking for. (Though I could go for a little sporting action while keeping a watchful eye for Mr. Right.)

When I step back and look at the bigger picture, it feels very funny to me to acknowledge that my most significant post-marriage relationships have been with Max and then Chi-guy. I actually talked about Max with Chi-guy, who asked me “So what exactly happened between you and Max?” “Nothing,” I answered, “we developed a beautiful flirtatious friendship that helped me find myself again.”

And there are those who ask what happened with Chi-guy. The same answer is true…nothing happened. We’ve developed a beautiful flirtatious friendship…

But a girl can always hope!

on developing dating clarity

Earlier, I wrote: “The brilliant thing about failure is that, with time, it brings about great clarity. It is because of the experiences I’ve had — my failed relationship, my attainment of a mediocre position in my career — that I now know more clearly than ever what is truly and deeply important to me. I have a fairly well-developed grasp of my own strengths and weaknesses, and have discovered what makes me feel whole, fulfilled and alive. I am grateful for these lessons learned.”

I am grateful for the lessons learned, but I find myself laughing at this sense of clarity I seemed to have for a moment in time. Refining one’s sense of self, sense of other and desires all seem to be ongoing processes. Perhaps at that time I had a great vision for what I didn’t want, and maybe that felt like clarity to me then. It’s the knowing with certainty which direction to go, which next steps to take — in relationships and career — that is the challenge.

Long ago, maybe even before my ex moved out, I began a list of qualities that I’d like to find in a mate. In truth, I probably began developing my list in a somewhat reactionary manner, including the many of the desirable qualities my ex lacked. Or any qualities in direct opposition to those he possessed. Whatever.

As time went on and I began to see the beauty in the world again, I saw more wonderful qualities to add to this list…

And then I worked on myself and spent some time acknowledging what I know about me and what I need and what I know I want, and I added more to the list…

By now, I have a pretty clear picture. Yet, I continue to meet, interact and spend time with men to keep refining and adding clarity. And, though I have silly notions about what kind of car he might drive or what clothes he might wear or how tall he might be, I do genuinely recognize how little importance those things carry. The substantive stuff has to do with the way he thinks and carries himself through this grand life journey.

In other words, I’m listening very closely to the language he uses and how he expresses himself, observing his manners and witnessing my own feelings when I’m in his presence. Most of my list is about truly noble qualities, rather than external factors such as looks or cars or career or income.

My dating experiences continue to inform this list, especially as I consider the type of man who might integrate into my little family. And I think this is particularly true of men with children. For example, I went out with one cute, quirky, computer geek who has twin boys who are younger than my children, one with ADHD and the other on the autism spectrum. I could see loving a man like this. I could even see welcoming challenging children into my heart. But I would likely view trying to integrate such a bunch into my mellow family as too disruptive to my own children. So add that to the list…

My last post was about resonance and dissonance — the things that we can vibe with or not. The thing is, I have a pretty broad, open mind. And I often allow myself to be talked into things. But I know what I like, what resonates. And if you try to persuade me to go out with someone who’s not a match, I’ll probably be convinced to give him a chance. It’s just that in the end, I usually find out that I was right to begin with.

resonance vs. dissonanace

The human mind makes countless judgements in the blink of an eye, the high-tech matter between the ears filtering what’s important and what’s not. We notice, determine and discern, consciously and unconsciously processing information for relevance, significance or congruence.

As it relates to dating, we notice little things about the folks we meet and add them to evidence for or against our potential or compatibility. We’re searching for clues, for resonance or dissonance. I wrote of that cosmic call-and-answer phenomenon I experienced when I met more-like-it. This is a great example of resonance, cues that I’m getting closer to attracting the kind of man I’d like in my life. I use this information to get even more specific.

For example, my list doesn’t specify what type of car my future mate should drive, yet I find I notice and interpret. I like a nice ride, and I suspect my guy also has an appreciation for foreign engineering. I’m not going to add this sort of thing to my list, but it resonates with me. (Let’s not discuss that my foreign-make luxury sedan is rusting and 15-years-old.)

Also, based on the kinds of conversations and emotional maturity level of the various guys I’ve met, I think I share a greater resonance with divorced men who have children. They seem a little more introspective and…well…humble. I’m not going to rule out a man who’s never been married nor had children; right now I just find it easier to relate to guys who’ve gone through something similar to what I’ve been through. Perhaps I won’t feel the same way in a few months or years.

If you look at the stats (50% of first marriages end in divorce; 70% of second marriages end in divorce), then I should probably reconsider. Marrying a guy who’s never been married could at least improve my odds by 10%, right? Bring it right on down to 60% chance of divorce. Now that’s winning!

I was once telling a friend about the lobbyist. I scoffed at the idea of even flirting with him, until my friend pointed out, “How do you know who can love you best?” It’s a good question. Maybe the man who will love me best is an actuary or a litigator…but it’s certainly easier to envision having a relationship with someone who shares a certain intellectual or career resonance, as well. (And by resonance, I’m leaning toward compatibility, understanding, rather than sameness.)

So…is all this an exercise in intellectual laziness? Am I looking in the mirror and trying to find someone just like me? Or are these clues to finding a match and a sense of belonging real?

Ideally, I’d like to think there’s someone out there with whom I share plenty in common, but who can also stretch my mind, imagination and sense of what’s possible, just as I hope to do for him.

kissing frogs

When I try to explain to some men that I don’t plan to date one person exclusively for awhile, they nod with understanding and wish me well “playing the field.” Meanwhile, they explain, they’re looking for someone special… as if these are two different things.

How many times have we heard, “you’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs” by the time we’re adult women?

I am looking for someone special. But to find him, I recognize that I’m likely going to have to meet and interact with a lot of men. I don’t plan to fling myself into exclusivity any time soon. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t veer that way if it felt completely natural and right. After all, I am a monogamist at heart.

It should be said that as many of the men I’ve met online interpret the same messages to mean that I’m ready to get serious and, because they’re not, they opt out.

Am I sending mixed messages? I’m using the same words. But, if I’m honest, the energy behind them is more than a little inconsistent.

which is worse, hormones or tmi?

I’ve mentioned before that the 40-year-old divorcée’s libido is beyond compare. I had a few months of fun as a singleton and then decided I was over the empty, hollow physical affairs. In other words, I’ve given up casual sex in search of meaning.

But I can’t deny that lately I revisit this stance at least monthly, if not weekly. (Okay, fine, perhaps daily or hourly is more accurate.) Depending on where I am hormonally.

Again, this topic is inspired by someone I met online — or, rather, the kind of information to be found online. I liked his mind, yet I don’t anticipate seeing him again — at least not in a romantically inclined manner. Still, having had some rather openly expressive conversations and flirtatious emails, I found him sexually intriguing. He seems more experimental than most of my past lovers have been. He obliquely mentioned porn twice in approximately three conversations, as well as confessing that he’s a big fan of toys. I can’t deny having browsed through all the sex-related questions he answered as part of his profile on our dating site. It seems he has answered an abundance, compulsively…and the things he’s willing to do with his tongue are…well, let’s just say the thought excites me.

In other words, I probably know too much for my own good. I can’t help but think it would be fun — really fun — to take that knowledge and convert it into experience.

Thus, in spite of my desire to have a tender, loving, intimate relationship with genuine companionship and long-term potential, my hormones and intrigue are conspiring against me. I am actually tempted to proposition this man. Even though I know better. Even though there are many other guys who have shown far more interest in getting physical with me, rather than merely titillating banter. But, Jeez, while I’m searching for the needle in the haystack, is it really necessary to deny myself some healthy sport?

The problem is, of course, that while I’ve proven to myself that I am capable of sex free from emotional encumbrance, I think the likelihood that I could manage such an arrangement with this particular fellow is small. Who was it who observed that men can’t think clearly until they get sex, while women are capable of thinking clearly only until they have sex? At any rate, I definitely think there’s some truth in it. I’m inclined to believe I might develop feelings. So I shall try to resist the encouragement of the devil on my shoulder.

I’m not really sure whether it’s hormones, this blessed, cursed 40-year-old libido or too much graphic knowledge that’s causing me to have these thoughts. But I’d be lying if I tried to deny thinking them.

above all, a good roof

Both my home and my psyche are in fixer-upper condition.

I may have mentioned this before, but my ex was not particularly handy around the home. While he stayed home with our young children, familiarity with his surroundings seemed to engender blindness. Case in point: when the roof over his head began to leak, I had to point it out to him. And even though he knew roofers, he never managed to make the appropriate arrangements (which explains all the banging going on up there each day and the $10,000 gap in my finances).

If there was something I wanted done, no matter how simple, I started calling contractors or handymen for bids. When the tree guy came to look at the white ash, his quote was deemed “ridiculous” and my ex began trimming. So I managed to accomplish small improvements in this way. Any cost or investment, no matter how low, was “ridiculous” to my wasband, whose grasp on fiscal and other realities seemed to have eroded over his time at home.

Our kitchen remodel made it to 85% complete…and, six years later, there’s still a list of to-do’s including new back doors, trim, a back splash and a few other details. And the bathroom needs a major remodel and … well, you get the idea.

My psyche is much the same way just now: there are some areas that need anything from a little redecorating or brightening up with fresh flowers to major renovation.

Inside my house, there are improvements on my wish list that I notice every day. Yet I’m repairing the roof first. I can’t see it, except from outside. It won’t affect my daily comfort (aside from during a hard rain). Yet, it’s as my roofer said, “Above all, a good roof.” The roof is the necessary shelter, the fundamental protection that will allow me to take the next necessary steps: a new ceiling, doors and trim. Eventually a bathroom.

Addressing the internal wounds is somewhat different, but it begins the same way. The first order of business is to secure shelter, a protected space or environment in which to process the emotions. Or, as Dr. Phil has explained (on one or more of the small handful of shows I’ve seen), “a safe place to land.” Divorce (and its associated betrayals), regardless of who or how or why it’s initiated, has a way of decimating the self-esteem, self-worth, ability to trust and more. One needs time and space to restore them.

And then there are matters of forgiveness. As if forgiving the ex were not practically unthinkable in and of itself, one must move beyond this to the even more monumental effort of forgiving one’s self: for failing to make it work, for actual harm caused, for giving up to soon or for staying too long and, especially, for the poor relationship example demonstrated to the children. And so much more.

While all that work is being addressed, there are the realizations and discoveries of habits, beliefs and paradigms adopted and lived out in the course of a failing relationship that must be examined and, likely, let go for something new and more wonderful to bloom. Certain triggers cause responses that are entirely too reactionary. As an example, say the words “stay at home father” and watch as I break out in a rash… Though my ex was much better equipped to be a full-time caregiver than I was when our children were babies, the experience ultimately took a turn for the resentful. I have to take a few deep breaths and remind myself that said domestic arrangement can and does actually work for a growing number of other families.

I’d say the roof is half-way finished. It would be impossible to say where my psyche is at along the path or how far I’ve come in healing. While I’d like to think that I am facing my challenges and healing consciously, there is no real way to determine whether or when there will be an end to the work. I can’t simply look at the construction schedule (and then add another few months). The past three months of down time to mull and process has been a true gift, and I’d like to believe I’ve made significant progress in healing my heart.

Yet I have a feeling the true test will be, as it is now, the patience, love and understanding I demonstrate to my children, my presence and openness, and the woman I am in relation to others.

talking about blogging about Chi-guy

About a month ago…

I’d been blogging about Chi-guy, and then letting him know about it. It seemed like the stand-up, professional courtesy thing to do. So I’d tell him I’d published an entry, and then we’d have a little exchange about it, either over text, email or the phone.

When I asked him how he’d remembered our coffee, he said his recollection was very similar. But then he clarified that, when he told me of his divorce, I hadn’t hid my excitement as well as I might have hoped. In fact, he said I was “giddy about it, actually.” I felt mortified to hear this and told him so; he comforted me with, “Anything less would have been insulting.”

At one point, he suggested the part about our evening together could use a re-write.

“And how would you like it to end?” I asked.

“Less like ‘Casablanca,’ more like porn,” he typed back.

“Why don’t you write your version for me,” I suggested.

“In it, I give it to you slow, make you beg for more,” he wrote. (Thus, part 7.)

Before, he wouldn’t go to bed with me because he “liked” me. In our more recent conversations, he’s become more suggestive. So all this has me wondering: did Chi-guy have a change of heart? Does he wish he’d taken the opportunity while he had the chance? Does he simply feel safe being more sexually flirtatious in his emails because I have no travel plans to Chicago? Has he (much like the women I know) ruled me out as a potential mate?

Sure enough, he called a couple of weeks later to let me know how much he was enjoying reading about us and my perspective on our history. It was then that I guessed, and he confessed, that the real reason he didn’t come back up to my room with me is because he knew I wanted him to stay the night — and he wasn’t ready for that. When I told him how dumb he’d been, he agreed. He confessed he might have acted differently today.

In writing about what happened between us, I’ve re-processed all the feelings I had. When I merely think back, it seems my feelings were involved all along. Reading my journal and blogging, however, has given me greater perspective on when and how my emotions began to engage.

It’s weird, all this banter back and forth with someone for whom I’ve had feelings, writing about our history, talking about recollections, flirting in the present. I’m fine knowing that he’s reading it; it’s when he calls and wants to talk about it that I feel so tremendously exposed and vulnerable.

NEWS FLASH: Chi-guy just called again, this time to let me know that he’s working on a 12-week contract for a client that’s right here in my hometown. Just the thought of his potential business travel has me smiling!

that’s more like it…or not

I wrote a several days ago about more-like-it, who I met at a coffee shop a few weeks ago. I’d met him online, then in person, we’d talked on the phone, and I was enjoying getting to know him and his flirtatious personality.

When we first communicated, the conversation and flirtation flowed naturally. He was articulate and we seemed to be of a similar mind. He said all the right things. When we first met, I learned he had studied Japanese in university. I had lived in Japan. I was looking for someone who had bandwidth, presence and was concerned with health. He talked about balance, engaged parenting and cooking with organic ingredients.

I confess that physical beauty matters to me (I am a Libra, after all), and I’d give more-like-it a solid eight on a scale from one to ten. In the world of our online dating site, however, he’s a 26 (yes, out of ten) — far and away the best match for my physical type that I’d met (not only because of general attractiveness, but also because he could easily be assumed to have sired my offspring).

Finally, previous to meeting more-like-it, my most recent emotional attachment had been to Chi-guy. I wondered where all the guys like him — articulate, attractive, creative, intelligent and so much more — were in this city. Sure enough, more-like-it shares both age and astrological sign with Chi-guy. (Both are Virgo goats; neither an auspicious match for me.)

At the risk of being redundant, so much of what I’d put out there on my list, what I want — both written and unwritten — and more was reflected back at me. Though I doubt I’m explaining it very well, what I experienced was like some bizarre universe communion, a cosmic call and answer. I felt validated. And kinda powerful.

More-like-it was emotionally expressive and warm, yet I sensed there was something holding him back. His pain was palpable — too fresh for his divorce timeline. Following our last lunch, during which I asked him what he wanted (he said he wasn’t sure he knew), he spent some time reflecting and realized he wasn’t ready to date. So he dropped out.

I can’t deny feeling a little disappointed. I could feel a definite intellectual connection and was beginning to sense a physical connection, but we hadn’t built that emotional bridge yet. This was a pretty rockin’ guy, with a lot of positives going for him. The thought that I might get to know him better had given me something to look forward to.

More-like-it had solid, compelling reasons for taking a couple of steps back and away from dating. And I took a pause myself — I cancelled a date or two and left some messages unanswered for a few days to re-evaluate my own readiness. (Suddenly my profile seems to be on fire!)

He told me that I deserve to meet someone amazing and spend time with people who are “all in.” Yet some of his reasons for backing off are the very reasons I’m staying in. I’m looking at things differently these days:

I’m meeting people because I enjoy meeting people (even when I don’t really feel like meeting people).
I’m flirting to practice flirting.
I’m dating to develop confidence in relating to men romantically again.
I’m taking what I can from each interaction, trying to give and receive something positive each time, continuing to develop a clearer picture of what makes me feel good and what a life-affirming relationship looks like for me.
I’m not “all in” myself. And I may not be until I fall in love. “All in” suggests commitment to me, and the only commitments I have right now are to myself, my children and to putting myself out there.
Even if I’m only 85% ready to date, dating casually is what’s going to get me ready. Learning to take the small disappointments in stride is the fuel I’ll use to both toughen up and open my heart.
Who can say they’re ready for a serious relationship? You’re only ready if you find someone who inspires you to open your heart, take risks and be fearless. And that happens over time.
Although I ultimately want marriage, I don’t expect the guys I date to know what they want right away — and I especially don’t anticipate they’re going to know whether they feel something special for me for a long time. They may use dating to develop clarity, too.
I feel vulnerable putting myself back out there, but facing my fear and challenging my beliefs is exactly what I need to move forward right now.

Yes, the human heart is fragile and it’s unfair to mislead anyone. But if we’re authentic — even if that means admitting uncertainty — it’s not misleading to discover, learn and grow in relation to others. In fact, most of us are doing these very things every day. And I have learned something from every single date I’ve been on.

So, while I’m a little bummed that I won’t be spending time getting to know more-like-it better, I’m going to add some of his amazing qualities to my list. I’m going to use having met him as evidence that great guys are out there, in this very city! And I’m going to ask the Universe to give me more of that cosmic “call and answer” dance — it will make putting myself out there all the easier.

a few thoughts on sex

Last week was a bitch, so let’s lighten things up… Is it too early in our relationship, Gentle Reader, for me to confess that my sexual proclivities are pedestrian?

Here it is: I like(d) plain old married sex. Sure, I’m what Dan Savage would call GGG, but I tend to go with what works. While I’ve had my share of bizarre encounters and enjoyed some creative and playful pleasure marathons, my taste ultimately tends toward the vanilla. I’m most likely to achieve satisfaction in the missionary or cowgirl positions.

I was asked recently if I enjoy wake-up sex. Frankly, I can’t imagine a time of day when I don’t enjoy it. I like it in the shower, up against a wall…cars are impossible, I find…if you have a swing, I definitely want a ride! Perhaps if there’s some strange element in all of this, it’s that I find it not only pleasurable and stress-relieving, but sexual fulfillment also gives me a feeling of abundance. The better my sex life, the less stress I feel about money, bills, cash flow… And it burns calories. Talk about a win-win-win!

A few other minor notes:

If forced to choose, I’d prefer a lover who ranks higher in skills/technique and desire to please than in size. (But I’d rather not choose.)
I most often wear plain cotton panties. They’re sexy on me. But if you like lingerie, buy some for me and I will happily wear it for you!
I’m a bit of a pillow princess. I’m going to lie back and enjoy this while you show off. You’ll find me quite responsive, and I’ll join in soon.
I have breasts. Show me you enjoy them. A lot.
There is no better foreplay than talking.
Foreplay is mandatory. Except when you’re such an amazing conversationalist that I’ve been dying to jump you all through dinner.
If you haven’t gone down on me, don’t expect me to go down on you. Really. You first, I insist!
What would ever make you think you don’t need to put on a condom?!
Sixty-nine never lives up to the promise. Sure, it’s fun to try, but I can’t truly enjoy receiving while simultaneously truly trying to give. Let’s take turns.
I kind of like it when you play with my feet, and I kind of love it when you thrust your tongue between my toes while simultaneously thrusting from your hips.
DO NOT apply a little saliva and aim for my rosebud the first time we’re together. (Yes, I speak from experience.)
I am a woman, not a four-year-old. There’s hair down there. Get used to it. I groom, but I don’t go Brazilian.
I have no interest in threesomes; strip clubs and porn don’t interest me (in fact, I find them somewhat exploitative, although I understand the debate goes both ways) and I don’t need an arsenal of accessories…just an attentive and giving lover.
Oh, and I’m vocal. You might want to close the windows.

Are you blushing yet? I am.