trying to pluck the low-hanging fruit

About a year ago…

A couple of jobs ago, I worked in a building on the other end of downtown, with a suave and charming guy who always had a bit of a thing for me. Despite not really being my type at all, we had chemistry. When I was feeling neglected in my marriage, I sometimes fantasized about running into him in the library and making out among the stacks.

He went through a divorce around the time I was moving on to my next gig. But we stayed loosely in touch, occasionally catching up over coffee. He changed jobs, too, and was now a lobbyist. I ran into him downtown one day and he hugged me longer than was comfortable. Pretty much everyone described him as “smarmy.” But that was all years ago…

Now I was newly single again and on the prowl — and Brendon should have been an easy target. Smarmy and lobbyist are irrelevant terms when one has a specific mission in mind. I had absolutely no interest in a relationship with him. In fact, I wasn’t even interested in him as a human. But sex, yeah. Think of Aaron Eckhart’s character in Thank You For Smoking. So I texted him, “What happened to that coffee date we had planned? Let’s upgrade to a cocktail to celebrate my being single and fabulous!”

“Well you’ve always been fabulous!” he replied. “Sorry to hear about your divorce. Pick the coziest place you can think of and you can tell me all about it.”

So you see, I thought this would be easy. Incredibly easy. The low-hanging fruit is always easy to reach and usually ready to be plucked, right?

But apparently smarmy lobbyists have an entire season of fundraisers to attend to, and his work demands kept getting in the way of any plans we’d made. When he cancelled on me for the second time via text, I ignored him. Note to men: you may be able to cancel a date via text once. But if you have to cancel the very next one, it merits a phone call and apology.

He began texting me again while I was out of town on vacation with my children. We vowed to make something work when I returned.

One day, as I was walking downtown, I saw Brendon coming from the other direction. He excused himself from the work colleagues he was with and embraced me in the middle of the street. I felt butterflies in my stomach and weak in the knees — classic crush symptoms, which were even more pronounced than they’d been back in the day. Brendon had to endure a work dinner with an out-of-town colleague, who would soon become his boss. After the sexual tension I felt right there in the street, I was sure Brendon would call after dinner …but he didn’t.

Brendon’s inaction was not helping me achieve the mission my counsellor set me on. And it was killing my self-esteem that someone I thought would be so easy and seemed to be interested in my charms was not motivated to take action! In the end, I never did hook up with Brendon.

And, looking back, I’m okay with that.

second date fail

I reported earlier in the week that I was to go on a second date with someone. We were to meet for brunch at a quaint bistro.

I drove there, parked and went into the restaurant. I thought I saw my date turn in to the lot as I gave the hostess my name, table for two. Strangely, my date did not come in for several minutes. Perhaps he was on the phone, I thought. When three minutes turned into five, I thought I must have been mistaken. At ten minutes, I ordered my breakfast and continued to read the newspaper.

Only after breakfast (remember, I quit my job and have yet to replace my mobile phone, and the restaurant did not have wi-fi) did I get the message that his ex had been called in to the hospital (hmm, a doctor?) and he had to rush back to pick up his children.

So…

What is a girl to do with this? We were about to have a second date. The first was an hour-long coffee two weeks ago, followed by some flirtatious emails. So let’s first establish that there is no relationship — it feels like a very low-stakes situation to me. And if my ex called and needed to be at the hospital, I would have done the same thing: gone home to fetch my children.

Still, because they could come to bear if ever a relationship were to grow, there are two rather critical questions that come up in a situation like this:

How hard would you work to communicate? Guy (not his actual name) knew I didn’t have a mobile phone, but he did know I’d have my laptop. Of course neither of us would have guessed the restaurant didn’t have wi-fi…doesn’t every coffee or breakfast place these days? There is also a city-wide wi-fi program here, but I don’t subscribe to the service. Guy sent me an email from his iPhone while in the restaurant parking lot (I later learned). He could have come in; he could have called the restaurant — in other words, he might have done more to ensure that I had truly received the message. As I said, the stakes were low…but hey Guy, how bad do you want it? Ultimately, if positions were reversed, I’d like to think that I would have had the courtesy to stop, walk into the restaurant and personally let my date know that something urgent had come up. The email wasn’t a total fail, but he could have done better…I say this not knowing whether his ex is an emergency surgeon or a nurse or an IT staffer or a PR person. Which leads me to…
How do you manage an ex? Among my wide network of friends, I’ve had several who are in the second wife / stepmother role. Having discussed these challenges before, the consensus has typically been that — more than being second wife or stepmother — the most difficult role is that which must deal with the ex-wife. The ex-wife can work to sabotage the relationships both between husband and new wife and with the children. If the man in this situation doesn’t have firm, well-defined boundaries with his ex, it’s hell on the entire family. But, according to my friends, the second wife / stepmother rarely gets very far when trying to address these dynamics — she’s often accused of being jealous, not wanting her husband to spend as much time with the children as he does or having other nefarious intentions. None of these are true, but they can appear true to a man who doesn’t see how manipulative his ex-wife is being or is generally unwilling to manage the situation. It sometimes seems that men respond with more empathy to an ex (perhaps out of guilt?) than to the current wife. In other words, ex-spousal management is critical to the health of any individual’s boundaries, and becomes even more important if one is to endeavor to have other relationships. Did my date manage his ex well? Not particularly. But there are still too many unknowns to determine how big a fail this is. First, let me say that Guy alluded to his children having some behavioral or development challenges, which may make it difficult for him and / or the ex to leave them with a neighbor or friend at the last minute. I have no idea how long Guy has been divorced. I have no idea whether the ex-wife wanted the divorce. I haven’t seen any history or patterns as it relates to this behavior.

So here’s what happened afterward:

I waited about a day before I responded to Guy’s emailed cancellation / apology. The tone appeared to have prioritized his “poor me” feelings over his “I am so sorry” apology, but it’s difficult to get a real read over email. My note to him said simply, “you missed a great breakfast — and even better company.”

He replied quickly, expressing his embarrassment over the situation and some suspicion that he had been manipulated or his plans had been sabotaged — along with a compliment or two.

I later replied, “perhaps you shouldn’t tell your ex when you make plans with a beautiful woman.”

Again he agreed and added compliments.

I clearly have the upper hand and can elect whether to see him again or not. In general, he seems decent enough, and flirts articulately. His profile shows cute personality. He is a sucker for The Sound of Music, as am I, and we seem to have a wide variety of shared eclectic interests. I have a mild interest in hanging out…yet I don’t like being yanked around. So I’m really on the fence here…

What would you do? One fail and he’s out? Or give him another chance?

doctor’s orders

About 13 months ago…

When I went to see my counsellor to talk through all the bizarre sexual / commitment swirl going on around me (and ultimately to decide whether to stay at Max’s family’s home while on vacation), she told me something else:

“Even if your husband hasn’t moved out, I think you should go out and have sex. It will help make the separation more real for you and allow you to move forward in your life.”

If this wasn’t ground-breaking psychotherapy, I’m not sure what to call it! Throughout it all, I had tried my best to take the high road, to be respectful and behave honorably. Clearly my sexual needs were not being met, but I was hoping to change that once my ex moved out. And now I was being offered a hall pass to go out and “have sex like a man” for a few months, regardless of whether we were still living under the same roof.

To be honest, I’ve never been a pick-up artist. And if I didn’t know how to pick up men in my twenties, I certainly didn’t know how the hell to do it as a frumpy mother of two! Actually, I barely even dated around, except for a few months in college. I’ve spent most of my life, since my teenage years, as a serial monogamist. By this time, I may have had one or two encounters/partners in my entire life that I would consider casual. (This does not count all those relationships that, now, I can look back and simply classify as stupid.)

And now I had doctor’s orders to go out and find a casual partner and — perhaps most importantly — not allow myself to get attached.

I left the office considering the possibilities: I would be on the prowl. I could be a cougar. I would commit to getting myself laid, stat!

But first, I went out and bought a Bliss Bikini Perfect grooming kit.

keeping my imaginary relationship in check

Yesterday I wrote that I tend to compare new men I meet against an “ideal” I already know, therefore allowing these potential “new” men little opportunity to make an impression in their own right. My behavior of making these comparisons can have the negative side effects of my feeling reluctant to meet new people, not being truly open or available to the potential in others and strengthening my attachment to an absurd imaginary relationship. And it’s entirely possible that I sounded just a little obsessed.

But I think having a high water mark against whom to compare new guys has a positive side: I have often tended to be a push-over in personal relationships, saying yes to everything and wasting time with people and on activities that don’t add anything meaningful to my life. In particular, let’s consider the online dating experience — there are so many men out there, so many who seem so earnest and eager — and who knows? As my wise friend Adonis (ha!) once said, “How are you to know who will love you best?” Well, guess what? When I’m feeling strong and centered and think of my high water mark, it’s pretty easy to see that I’d be wasting my time with those guys who can’t complete a sentence. The idea of a high water mark then serves the positive purpose of keeping me focused and aiming high. And I normally hold this “ideal” in a healthy, detached way in my mind. It’s potential energy, nothing more. Okay, maybe a little bit more.

But as I wrote yesterday’s post, I was feeling a bit unbalanced, insecure and under the influence of estrogen. (I really believe PMS should be considered a perfectly valid reason for absolutely anything for which a woman wishes to invoke it.) Besides hormones, there was another contributing factor for my being a little wrapped up in my imagined relationship: While I was meditating, emptying my mind and opening myself to possibility, a vision of this particular fellow popped in to my head. I am occasionally visited by visions — some prophetic — that seem to come out of the ether. They are not created by my conscious mind, nor do they appear at my own will. These “visions” are very realistic, detailed and persistent. Perhaps “vision” is not even the right word, because I can see as a witness — as though I’m out of my body — what’s happening; meanwhile I’m feeling, smelling, tasting, hearing — experiencing through all of my senses. It’s rather bizarre, actually, and the realistic nature of these little interludes is what makes them so darned difficult to shake!

For example, from the time I began dating my (now ex) husband, I regularly saw visions of a child between us. It’s true that I wanted a child and was in love with him, but the very clear picture of me, him and our girl baby came out of nowhere. I could art direct a photo shoot that would exactly replicate my vision to this day. It was that clear, and the memory of it remains that clear. And this vision became a reality.

So when a vision of my high water mark man in the shower with me interrupted my meditation yesterday, it seemed incredibly real and true — not to mention pretty damn hot! But I was meditating and tried to bring my focus back to my breathing, yet the next thing I knew…I could feel every sensation of his hands on my soapy skin; I smelled the soap and the faint scent of chlorine vaporizing from the steamy water; I felt the water wash over us, his hot breath on my ear and the way each part of me warmed to his touch; I heard the water streaming and his voice in my ear…You get the idea, and I don’t want to turn this blog into soft porn. One might be able to gather how difficult it was to put this experience out of my mind and maintain my sense of perspective!

Even though some (thank heavens not all) of my past visions have manifested in my life, I try not to give them too much power or thought. That which is right will come into my life — I prefer to believe with detachment.

And you’ll be happy to know that today I’m back in balance, having put my high water mark in proper, useful perspective.

my own worst enemy

I have a date planned today with someone I met online. I have vowed to keep an open mind, enjoy meeting new people, focus on how I feel when I’m with a man and, ultimately, make better relationship choices. I actually met this fellow for coffee a couple of weeks ago (working around our respective parenting schedules) and we enjoyed each other enough to agree to meet again.

As I go into this date, I am trying to be open to the possibility that I might allow myself to truly enjoy getting to know someone new — no artificial barriers, no comparisons to other men. I have vowed to enjoy dating. Yet I feel the old patterns trying to work their way back. Let me elaborate:

As a Libra, I’m born to partner. I enjoy the sharing and closeness of being in a relationship. I fall quickly and easily, and I feel natural and at ease in the throes of infatuation with a mate. I love falling in love — so much so that one might say I’m in love with being in love. This astrological affectation can also cause a girl to lose herself in the role of girlfriend / wife / lover.

Thus, I’ve been on a relationship treadmill pretty much since high school, from boyfriend to boyfriend, rarely spending enough time enjoying myself to know what I really want or how to express myself authentically in a relationship. The most alone time I’ve ever had was in my marriage — that’s when I figured out who I am, grew strong and realized that the kind of relationship I desire was vastly different from what I had.

When I wasn’t in a relationship, I was crushing hard on someone. Usually someone unavailable…look at Max, for example. Max, married and miles away, was part mad crush, part obsession and probably the perfect fantasy for someone half in and half out of a marriage. He affirmed my strength and renewed my hope that I could find love again. And, not so long after I let the idea of him go, I found someone else — another unavailable man, another long-distance object of my affection — to fill the gap.

I mentioned my current “high water mark” earlier. Most days, I find myself bemused by our flirtatious friendship; it just feels good to have a crush! Other days, I find myself a bit too married to the idea of exploring the energy between us and closed to the possibility that my ultimate life mate might be someone else. Part of me wants to cling to the thought that maybe someday, we might share something truly special. Because it feels somehow safe to think that way. Yet I’ve begun to see how I’m using this hope, this fantasy, as a defensive tactic to prevent me from getting close to anyone new, anyone real, anyone who’s actually here and available and wants to get to know me. He has become an emotional surrogate, an imaginary boyfriend, to whom I unconsciously pledged my faithfulness to prevent myself from letting anyone else in. For the second time in my life, I’m seeing a part of myself that would rather hold out for a fantasy than allow me to risk finding something real, and this realization scares the shit out of me!

I keep telling myself that my high water mark embodies all those qualities I want to find in a partner, but I don’t actually know him that well. This is to say that, while he may indeed have every single characteristic on my list, I haven’t been around him enough to witness or experience those things. And I also tell myself that I’m open to the universe bringing me all those wonderful qualities and more in a partner. But is being open to [insert guy’s name here]+more the same as being open to true possibility? I think not. I’m not truly detached to the outcome. So I’m likely to compare every new man I meet or date to this other guy, rather than measuring him on his own merits and what I experience with him.

Heartbreak creates the illusion that there are two paths to choose from: on one hand, there’s the fear of being alone; on the other, the fear of setting one’s heart free to love again, to be vulnerable, to let someone in. But I see now that this is a false choice.

My path forward will be to revel in the happiness that can only come from loving myself. And I will cultivate courage, learn to lower my defenses and allow someone entirely new to see me authentically. For perhaps the first time in my life, I’m going to open myself to genuine possibility.

analysis of the unexpected call

Yesterday I wrote about one of the most bizarre and uncomfortable conversations I can recall having. Today I will reflect a bit more deeply on this discussion and the relationship minefields it brought up.

A day later, I’m still flabbergasted that this friend, the thought of whom has not crossed my mind since I addressed holiday cards, believes me to be harboring some sort of feelings for him. What might have given him that impression?

I am a firm believer in taking responsibility and in karma and, for all those fools who wonder why there’s so much drama in their lives, I say it’s because they attract it. But I have shed need for drama in my life…so what part do I have in all this? And what do we owe others in relationships — platonic, romantic or committed?

First let’s look at my own questionable behavior. I was not entirely respectful toward Genna, Adonis’s live-in girlfriend, when I last saw her several months ago. That is to say I did not treat her as the woman of the house. My friendship with Adonis goes back many years to when he lived in the same home with his wife, and I simply defer to him as the homeowner and host when I visit. Still, being a woman, I suppose the most appropriate course of action would be for me to communicate primarily with Genna and treat her as the hostess. Are such rigid social roles necessary in 2011? Oh, all right, I suppose rigidity is neither here nor there, when one has behaved like an insolent brat.
In my defense, while keeping up a friendship with me, Adonis has not been forthcoming with updates, such as “I’ve been seeing Genna for a few months now” and “Genna and I are living together” or even casually bringing her up in conversation. And these are the sorts of things most of us tell our friends. In fact, I might go so far as to suggest that it was disrespectful of Adonis to fail to bring up the critical fact that “this is now Genna’s home, too.” Add to this that Adonis has made it clear he does not intend to get married (this is fine with Genna). Are the ways in which he behaves towards her providing me cues about how to behave toward her, as well? I can say with certainty that I want my mate to let others know when we reach relationship milestones, such as moving in together.
What would compel a man with whom I haven’t spoken for a few months (and with whom previous conversations were related to cars) to believe that I was holding out hope of a relationship with him? I wrote recently about having a “high water mark” among my single friends — and Adonis, while a beautiful specimen — is not him. Even if we’ve flirted in the past, isn’t this a classic case of Narcissism? And if I have a tendency to attract Narcissistic men, does that mean I am also a Narcissist? Or is my awareness a critical first step along the path to healing?
I’ve been so busy trying to figure out how this misunderstanding happened that I forgot to bring up probably the #1 Cardinal Rule for Men and my biggest relationship pet peeve: Do not ever tell a woman how she feels. Ever. Or assume you know how a woman feels. (My ex was the master of this misbehavior: he assumed and he never bothered to take the time to verify. p.s. He also didn’t bother to address his own feelings. He just projected onto me.) A woman is much better equipped to know her own feelings, even if so many of us have been socialized to suppress them. Or even if she doesn’t know them, it would be better to begin with, “You seem upset…” Adonis could have handled all this weirdness in a much gentler, less offensive way. He might have asked, “Are you sure you’re not mad? Because I was sensing some… and I observed… and last time I saw you, you said… and so I thought…” Telling me how I feel is never going to get a positive response.
I’ve been told that I have a very “sultry” energy about me, something alluring or intriguing without being full-on sexual, a certain je ne sais quoi. (Mostly I’ve been told this by other women.) Truth be told, I am not often conscious of having such energy, nor do I feel adept at using this to my advantage. Is this cluelessness about my own feminine energy causing confusion among others? Have I been casually and unconsciously flinging signals about in all directions?
Folks in the Midwest are known for indirect communication. Often, things I’ve said quite plainly have been interpreted to mean something wholly different from either what I said or intended. I once remarked to a man that he had beautiful eyes and was immediately told by a bystander that this man was married. Is it really a crime to compliment someone simply because he or she is married? My goodness! I sincerely meant that the bloke had beautiful eyes — nothing more! (And I’d like to think that others would see my compulsion to blurt such things out as innocent and disarming.) By the same token, when I suggest we go out for sushi, I’m merely suggesting that because we both like sushi, we might grab some sometime. It’s not an exclusive sort of invitation, nor is it a suggestion that “maybe you want to step out on your girl in favor of me…”
There are surely some lessons in this experience with which I can and will use to cultivate my own maturity:
- curb the social drinking, particularly when functioning brain-to-mouth filters are necessary (I have an under-developed filtration system as is)
- be more conscious of cultural boundaries
- use provocation cautiously and reserve it for intellectual discourse
- don’t flirt with men in relationships, particularly in front of their S.O. (you’d think this would be obvious, but some of us are apparently slow learners)
- communicate with as much clarity as possible

Bottom line? I still think my conversation with Adonis was outrageous, and I continue to be befuddled at how it all got so convoluted. Is Adonis projecting his own feelings onto me? It’s pretty clear he has regrets. I admit, accept and take full responsibility for behaving badly toward Genna.

What do you make of it all?

an unexpected call

Yesterday, I received one of the strangest phone calls of my life.

A long-time male friend of mine called, immediately chastised me for not having called him in a long time and told me that he understood why: “I know you’re mad at me.” I’ll call this Mediterranean friend of mine Adonis — after all, most of my girlfriends do.

Some history:

I met Adonis well over a decade ago, before my marriage, while he was separated from his Midwestern wife. (They later reconciled; a few years ago, she committed suicide. He is now living with another woman from a Southern European country, who I’ll call Genna.)
Adonis and I went out a few times during his separation, but I soon stopped seeing him because I felt uncomfortable with the situation and his desire to move too quickly in our relationship.
I’ve never slept with him.
Without telling my ex how Adonis and I met, I had occasion to introduce the two. My husband thought Adonis was cool…so, from then on, our families celebrated children’s birthdays and other occasions together, socializing a few times a year. We were at his wife’s funeral.

After much small talk and some discussion of my ex and child support, he came back to the topic of my being mad at him. Again I insisted that I wasn’t angry with him. And then he said, “I know you like me…and I like you, too, but I’m in a relationship…”

I was flabbergasted! It’s true that I find Adonis attractive and, given our history, I feel comfortable being mildly flirtatious with him. I enjoy his attention. There was a time after his wife’s death when we talked a lot and I wondered if I might be the woman to whom he was most emotionally connected. I appreciate his sense of style, his DIY skills, his entrepreneurial skills…but (and it’s a big but) Adonis has a very black and white way of thinking: He has a temper, he can be argumentative, he is not often willing to consider other perspectives. He is remarkably non-judgmental, yet stubborn and resistant to change. I have often argued with him about parenting and other topics. In other words, I realized long ago we would not make a successful match.

Luckily, Adonis can go on about his point of view at length with no encouragement, so I sat stupefied while he went on: “…I can’t disrupt my children’s lives and make them live through another loss like that. We may yell and fight, but the children love Genna.”

“Adonis,” I had gathered my wits, “I like you as a friend, and I know full well that we could never have a successful relationship. I’ve heard you complain about Genna and I’ve seen the two or you argue, and I simply think that you deserve someone with a greater capacity for joy in your life.” Not to mention, I thought, that all this arguing in front of the children does not provide a great example or bode well for the children’s future relationships. This and several other thoughts I kept to myself.

He went on: “Well, the last time you were here, you said that you find me attractive and that you want to go out with me, and when you say things like that in front of her…” he trailed off.

Okay, wow! I admit that I can be bawdy, inappropriate and say or do provocative things (always with humorous, not harmful, intent). It was true that the last time I’d taken the children there for a play date, I had indulged in some wine. It’s true that I was generally of a mind to have my physical desires met around the time of my visit (though not by Adonis). It’s true that the conversation between me and Genna became uncomfortable later in the day (which I mostly attributed to our cultural differences). But I cannot recall nor possibly imagine how on Earth I would have said such things! I racked my brain.

There was a time that day when Genna was saying some mean / disrespectful things about Adonis. I may have jumped to my friend’s defense with a playful, “I’d date him” or something, meant in an entirely harmless fashion (even if it is inappropriate), save perhaps to remind her that she’d made a pretty good catch. Also, later in the evening, I suggested we go out for sushi sometime. Perhaps this was the “wanting to go out with him” part of this confusion.

Finally, I owned my bit of all this, “You know it’s true that I haven’t given Genna the level of respect she deserves as the woman of your house and, for that, I’m sorry.”

As if all of this were not random nor awkward enough, Adonis next suggested that, even if we were to go out and do things together, it would get complicated and mess up our friendship.

Okay, I had mentioned sushi, but that was clearly not what he was talking about.

I cut him short, “I would never do that.” And shortly thereafter I ended the call, thinking “Seriously, did this conversation really just happen?”

going online

I recently went to a dating site, uploaded a few photos, answered a boatload of questions and filled out a profile. I confess: I’m on one of the free sites. I’m a bit ambivalent about the whole thing right now, so I’m just not ready to “invest” yet in one of those more “quality” sites. (I don’t even know if my assumptions are true.)

I wonder if men are the same way. In other words: Are the men who are really ready to commit on sites on which one pays for service?

I may revisit that question later. But in the meantime, here’s what I’ve discovered upon a quick glance:

A picture is, indeed, worth a thousand words! Or, for many of these guys, their photo might be summed up with one: ewww!

Midwestern men apparently don’t think it matters what they look like. For all the effort some of these guys have put into telling us how fabulous they are in their profiles, a great many haven’t bothered to find a decent digital photograph to upload. Note to online daters: Have a friend take a flattering shot with good lighting!
A high percentage of men have posted hunting or fishing bounty, as if to say, “Look! Here’s me holding a dead duck (or fish); me bring-um home dinner!” Do they really think an urban woman wants to be wooed this way?
And look at all the guys holding cats! I like cats, but there’s something inside me that just finds this not particularly manly. If I saw a great photo of an average- to good-looking guy and then later discovered he had a cat, I’m sure I would think it awfully sweet. Just don’t lead with the cat!
Groin shots. ‘Nuff said.
There are an awful lot of bald men with too much (i.e. not well-groomed, sculpted or manscaped) facial hair. Don’t try to over-compensate for a balding pate with a scraggly, unkempt goatee. Some girlfriends and I used to refer to ALL goatees as “woman repellent.” Few men can get away with something other than a well-shaped and trimmed beard on their face. God bless grooming products!

And then there are the sketchy profile details:

First, how do I get told I’m a 93% match with someone WHO IS MARRIED? Did I not clearly state I’m looking for SINGLE men? Can’t these fools be screened out immediately — as in criteria numero uno?! I’m looking for my future husband, not a threesome!
It’s positively shocking to me how many men are willing to wear their lack of ambition, direction in life or earning power as a badge of honor. You wouldn’t believe the number of artsy types whose profiles suggest they’re still trying to find their way in life at 40-ish. I consider myself creative and a writer, too, but I’m going to list my actual, income-generating profession first. Why? Not because I define myself by my career, but because it might matter to someone stable to know that I am responsible and capable of holding a job. (Um…so, does the fact that I recently quit make me a complete hypocrite?)
One guy’s profile brilliantly proclaimed that has given up his car in favor of using a bicycle for transportation. That may be very socially responsible and all…but, in this town, how the hell are you going to pick me up for a date, Genius?! I like to bike, too, but not if it limits my dating life to the warmer half of the year.

So please cross your fingers for me. I’m figuring there have to be at least a few gems out there!

happy VD!

This being a blog about relationships and failure, it’s only appropriate that I publish some snarky or cynical commentary about how much will be spent on cheap boxes of chocolates or the even less original gift of a dozen red roses.

But the truth is that I love Valentine’s Day! I love the whole idea of a day devoted to love, even if I wish we could all devote ourselves to be more loving every day. And I hope to one day find someone with similar romantic notions, who doesn’t balk at doing something special for this “Hallmark holiday.”

I suppose it goes without saying that I don’t have a Valentine this year. I’ll be making dinner for my children — and I picked up a few exquisite chocolate desserts as a special treat for the sweetest blessings in my life!

Here’s where I’m at with searching for a Valentine: I’m starting to date. I plan to date more than one gentlemen at a time, I’m going to enjoy meeting lots of new people and I plan to take things very, very slowly.

I had a pretty good first date this weekend, in fact. By “good first date,” I mean we had coffee, a nice conversation and were both interested enough to have agreed to meet again, for lunch. We spent no more than an hour together and shook hands at the end. There was no instantaneous magic, no first-date kissing.

I’ve got a profile up on an online dating site (more on that later) and am sitting back and letting men contact me. I’m reading up on and learning more about dating — all those things that I never felt the need to do the first time around. It’s different now that I’m older, and I’d like to make more prudent decisions based on a more solid understanding of relationship dynamics.

There is a man I’m interested in. And by interested I mean that he’s my current high water mark among single men I’ve met…so far. (Should it be obvious that the high water mark is even higher if I count married male friends of mine? Should I accept that my standards are lower for single guys? Or is it normal, given that I haven’t observed these single guys in the role of husband and father which, were I able to observe this, might raise the bar?)

In any case, this single guy is smart, attractive, funny and has impeccable manners — and I feel incredibly feminine when I’m with him. This is not to say that he’s perfect. I like his humanity and candor, and I like that he’s trying to become a better human. I love feeling as though I could talk to him forever and not get bored, and I think he’ll make some lucky woman a wonderful companion one day. I’d like the opportunity to spend more time with him and explore the chemistry I feel when we’re together, but this is difficult as we live far apart. I sent him a casual, funny Valentine, yet I’ve no idea whether he thinks of me as anything more than a flirtatious friend.

Even so, I’m not waiting around for him to make a move…because with all this creating I’ve been doing, I know the universe may have someone even better in store for me. And even if I don’t expect any sort of Valentine today, a girl can always hope for next year!

vacation planning

About a year ago…

I was SO stressed out! The children knew we were getting a divorce and I was counting the days until my husband would vacate our home. Winter was raging. I needed a break!

With some trepidation, I approached my boss: “I’m thinking of taking a two-week vacation with the children while my husband moves out.”

To my surprise, she was very supportive. “Do what you need to do,” she said.

So it was decided. I looked for and bought airline tickets, made plans with the children’s teachers, reached out to friends and relatives on the coast and began to form a plan. Max, of course, was among my friends in the region we’d be visiting.

To my surprise, he was the first to respond with an email, “I think you need to come and stay with us. We have an extra room for you.”

Wow! I was intrigued, titillated, flattered and VERY hesitant.

I confessed the news of Max’s offer to my coworkers in the morning as we met for coffee. “Absolutely not,” my boss advised. “That is a horrible idea!” The other gals agreed that it was quite sweet for him to offer, but sympathized with how difficult it might be for me.

My life was turning into one big swirl of crazy: one of my girlfriends was leaving her husband for another man, another married girlfriend was exploring her sexuality outside of her marriage, and yet another friend suggested, “Maybe Max and his wife are in to threesomes.”

All this weirdness drove me straight to my counsellor’s office, where I told her every last detail about what was going on in my life and all around me and, of course, about Max…with whom I was pondering staying for part of my family vacation.

Finally she remarked, “It sounds as though you and Max have developed a good friendship. Staying with him and his wife could be very good for you. Being around the example of a healthy, loving relationship may be just what you need.”

Whew! Finally I could confess that I had come to the same conclusion. It would be good to spend time with Max and his wife and children. And having my children there as well would provide remarkably solid guard rails against any temptation I might have.

Still, I felt I had to call Max to discuss:

“Thank you for your generous offer to let us stay with you,” I began. “Have you discussed with your wife?”

“Of course,” he said. “She’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“I hope you’ll understand if I take some time to think about it,” I went on. “It might be kind of difficult for me emotionally, and I’m not sure I’m feeling that strong.”

“Okay,” he said doubtfully, as though he couldn’t possibly understand how this might be an emotional dilemma for me. “We’d love to have you. And the children are eager to make love new friends.”

“I’ll let you know, ” I said and said good-bye.

I suspect men have a lot more practice being friends with women who they find attractive. Personally, I don’t recall having much experience having platonic relationships with men I’ve been drawn to physically and emotionally. Determining how to just be friends with Max was a new challenge for me. And I had no confidence that I’d be any good at it.