Category: Single Again

early imprints

I didn’t mean to come back only to be absent again for nearly two weeks. Truth is I was a bit distracted by a funeral for a family friend last week, and it affected me perhaps more than I anticipated.

You see, the gentleman who passed was a contemporary of my father’s, the same age, and someone who was as close to me as an uncle for many of the formative years of my life. Several of those who stood up to talk at his funeral described him as unfailingly kind, loving, open and generous. And it dawned on me then that, while I thought he always treated me as special as a child (we joked about my being the only daughter he never had, because he sired only sons), he treated everyone else with the same kindness as he treated me.

I remember getting to ride in his Corvette as a young girl, occasional gifts and even calling him to borrow money as I was just beginning my adult life:  Too proud to call my own father, I asked for a loan of $500. He overnighted a check for $750 and then, after I’d paid back the first two payments of $250 each, refused to accept any more. He once loaned me a box truck from his business to move apartments. And his wife of 45 years once took me shopping and attempted to buy me a beautiful pink Angora sweater…at exactly the wrong point in my teens, when it would have been colossally uncool.

But those early memories made a big impression on me about success, having enough and what it all meant. I was reminded of how much I strive to be like him:  to provide for my family, while always being generous with what I can; to keep an open mind and heart; to live well and do good. Beyond the connection I shared with him, I am in awe of the 45 years he and his wife shared, and of how poised she was as she talked of their 45 years of partnership. It takes a gentle soul to achieve that…two gentle souls.

So I came home after that and tried to explain to my boyfriend of a few months how much this man had meant in my life and how much it meant be reminded of all those wonderful things about him, and I told him I wished that for my own life, too.

I wonder if it’s something we’ll embark on (or continue, I suppose, depending on how one views it) together?

a bit of a hiatus

It seems I’ve taken a bit of an inadvertent hiatus. You know how life gets:  one day you’re writing regularly and the next you decide to keep it zipped so as not to jinx something which ends up not working out anyway and then you meet someone else and the holidays are upon you and you keep thinking, “I really ought to blog about this,” and then you don’t get around to it because there are other priorities and you’re out of the habit and life just hurtles on at speeds you can’t seem to get used to…

So…apologies.

We’ve tons to catch up on. Promise. I will be better. I’ll tell you all about the douchey suburban guy and whatnot, and perhaps how, despite every relationship being a mixed bag of sorts, I’m really feeling quite happy and cared for just now.

I’ll wait for your applause to die down…

There.

Off to get my beauty sleep. Sweet dreams, dear readers! I’ve missed you, and I hope you’ve missed me, too.

complete and utter indifference

I am spending my free time dating:  a plethora of first, second and third dates. And I couldn’t feel more indifferent about  meeting the gentlemen I’m meeting…which is good, because then I always end up having an unexpectedly good time. Even when I don’t feel that something that propels me forward.

I suppose I’m approaching dating as a man does, looking forward with a mixture of indifference, anticipation, excitement or dread, depending on the moment. And none of these anticipatory feelings has any bearing on the outcome of the meeting.

The current crop has been fascinating in their approaches to dating. For awhile, several were texting or messaging, and none getting around to asking me out. I finally had to pleasantly suggest that I’m not looking for a pen / text pal, which meant that several asked me for a date all on the same weekend:

  • One wanted to talk on the phone twice before we ever met. I’ve learned he has a nice voice, seems even-tempered, has maintained a stable career. In question:  his sexual prowess / skill.
  • One had incredibly nerdy photos posted on the dating site I use and ended up being smoking hot — with geeky glasses — in person. He pushed for a second date right away, and then brushed me off. I suspect I was one of two finalists for the role and the other girl probably wears glasses all the time and not just when reading. He seemed to put some stock in not just being a bit smart and geeky, but also looking the part.
  • Another is slightly younger, less educated, more anti-establishment. After a fun first date, he walked me to my car in the rain and asked me if I wanted to make out. How could I resist?
  • I’m finding one a bit argumentative…which could be a problem…
  • And another who can’t seem to figure out how to ask me on a date. It’s ridiculous. And not going to work.

All that said, this “circular dating,” as Rori Raye calls it, is helping me keep my sanity, my feelings in check and my expectations low.

So I gear up for another weekend of dates, filtering and determining who makes it through to the next round…and who knows? Maybe I’ll end up liking one of these guys.

another letter I’ll never send

Sometimes, when I’m struggling to let go (as I am now), I write a letter that I’ll never send and fill it full of all the ridiculous stuff in my mind.

Recently, I fell for someone who was never going to be a good match, but my heart just went there and there was nothing I could do. As one of my girlfriends would say, I have a faulty picker. I keep thinking that, one of these times, I will have grown enough, changed enough, de-cluttered my heart enough, for it actually to pick the right one. But I’m not there yet, I guess.

So here’s a sample of the sort of letter I will never send — one that I hope will finally allow me to move on:

Dear BFE (Biggest Fool Ever),

This is the story of us:  When we first met, I didn’t give you the time of day. I noticed nothing remarkable about you. A mutual acquaintance told me a few things, and I realized we had something in common. You were quiet, but I broke the ice. We started sharing, occasionally going out for a drink.

Before I knew it, I had developed a bit of a crush. I noticed that, in  jeans, you appeared to have no butt, which only made me want to grab it more. I noticed that you always seemed very calm, yet in command. I detected an undercurrent of passion. That’s when I started fantasizing about you throwing me up against a wall and ravishing me or taking me on your kitchen island. I was looking for something simple, uncomplicated — a little sporting fun without the hassle of emotional entanglement.

Over the months we got to know each other a bit better, alternately flirting with and ignoring each other for weeks or months at a time. Something began changing inside me, and I started wanting a relationship. Not necessarily with you — I knew you were unavailable (it was as though you were in a tunnel and couldn’t see the light at the end). But I still felt chemistry between us.

And then there was that Friday in May:  we went out for a drink, sat in the sunshine. Something changed during our conversation that day. I don’t remember what we talked about, only that everything inside me went soft and melty. I had been dating men I’d met online, keeping my heart protected, my true self hidden behind thick stone walls covered in ivy. All the guys I met seemed to be looking for a key, a way through, over or around those walls…but you just reached in, opened the door and let yourself in. Effortlessly. Suddenly I felt girly and vulnerable, yet safe. And had a strong urge to be sweet. I had no idea what hit me!

Later that night, as I charmed my way through another first date, I texted you that I’d rather still be enjoying your company. You called me sweet. I chided you for failing to notice that I’d painted my toenails and worn a skirt for you. You confessed that you had noticed, hiding behind your designer shades.

Now we were flirting daily, via text or chat or in person. For weeks on end, I ended each day with wet panties. And then one day you kissed me. I felt it all over my body. And I so hoped that it was the beginning of something…

Instead of being thrown up against a wall, I began dreaming of waking in your arms and fantasizing about snuggling with you on the sofa in front of the telly…the sort of mundane, everyday intimacies that I so crave. The suddenness of this shift was almost alarming.

Then you began sending mixed messages, acting hot and cold. I was confused and hurt. But you hadn’t made any commitments, so there were no promises broken. I vowed to just enjoy the butterflies in my stomach when we saw each other, the way my knees went weak and I prattled on nervously around you. That feminine feeling I got around you felt so good! I was drawn to you.

One night, you were out in my neighborhood and texted me. I was out with a girlfriend and let you know where, never imagining you’d turn up. And then you were there! You must have known I would think it meant something if you showed up…and yet you played it cool, not touching me or showing special attention while your friend told me not to take it personally. At first I didn’t understand. I thought maybe you were simply uncomfortable with public displays of affection, but then, after the high of spending time with you wore off, reality set in and I realized what a fool I’d been.

And then I felt angry. You could have easily pulled me aside at any time and said something like, “I’m so flattered by your attention; I find you attractive…but I can’t do this right now.” It would have saved me embarrassment and heartache. But you let me foolishly believe there was some possibility.

When I see you now, the old habits are confused with these new feelings and I alternately want to keep flirting with and lash out at you. I will get over it; we’ll go back to being casual friends…but I miss that sense of possibility. I miss you being the best part of my day.

We clearly calculate our risk-rewards ratios differently — and I know I’m worth it!

I know you are and have been nothing more than a distraction; we were never going to be a great match. Still — even as I’m looking for the man who wants to love and cherish me for a lifetime, we could have had something positive, loving and wonderful. Now that moment has passed.

Yours truly,

Failed

sooo immature!

Gosh, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted and I’m so sorry — because I have much to discuss — and I’ve had a lot going on in my life and little time to devote to getting all of these thoughts down to share with you. And I’m about to go on holiday with my young ones to a place where signals are weak or nil. So…

I’ve been thinking about all the times in the past few years that I’ve heard a man say, “I’m so immature!” to explain away a verbal gaffe or inappropriate joke he’s made. This seems so common to me, in fact, that I can’t distinguish between those who are simply excusing themselves for a joke in poor taste and those who genuinely mean “I am not capable of a mature relationship.” After all, so many of these men seem to be responsible breadwinners, parents, property owners and the like. They mow lawns, chauffeur children, pay taxes — certainly they must be mature!

I bring this up because I think we women should take heed. We should listen when a man says he’s “sooo immature” or “doesn’t have time” or other verbal cues that let us know he’s not the right man to be in our life right now.

Often — and I’ve observed this both in others and in myself — we women are inclined to respond (even if only in our own minds) with, “you are so!” or “sure you do” or some other protestation. We want to believe he is special, that he is a great guy, that — if he only believed he was worthy — he would be as crazy about us as we are about him.

And so my counsel is to stop with this dialogue (in our heads), shut up and listen. When a man says he is “sooo immature,” he means, “you don’t really want me,” because he’s trying to give you all the reasons he can for you to decide you don’t really like him. Because he really doesn’t want to have to say directly and out loud, “I’m not interested in you.” All this self-deprecation is man speak for no; it’s his way of letting a woman down easy.

So we have to listen carefully to those statements, even though it’s hard. Because we get confused at what seems to be contradictory — especially if we’re in the midwest and it’s socially expected that one will be self-deprecating and the anticipated response to such self-deprecation is always a protest, as in this sort of exchange:

A:  Is that a new dress?

B:  What, this old thing? I’m sure I’m entirely out of fashion by now!

A:  Oh, stop! It looks wonderful on you!

Frankly, men, we’d prefer the directness of, “I’m flattered by your attention, but I’m not interested in a relationship right now.”

Why is this so hard for a man?

Because, dahling, as he’s already stated, “I’m sooo immature!”

how did I become a born again virgin?

I was out for a walk with a younger girlfriend one day not long ago and, suddenly, it dawned on me — out of nowhere — to ask her, “Are you a virgin?”

She confessed that technically, just by a hair (so to speak), she was.

And it was as I pondered this wonder that I realized that, in this calendar year, I am also a virgin. OMG, I thought, how in the heck did that happen?! How is it that, in 2013, I’ve had what — in retrospect — I’d call a dry spell?

I thought about the dating…relationships? no, not really the right word…more like dating situations I’d gotten into:  two or three of them might have been heading toward physical intimacy, but with no great momentum or desire on my part. I was merely considering my willingness when things ended.

So it’s not as though I’m a prude or that I’ve intentionally abstained or that no one’s been interested. It’s just that I’m ready for something special, dammit, and I’m not willing to settle for another jerk or nowhere relationship!

Further, I’ve spent a great deal of time with toys, sometimes routinely using one each night for a period of days or weeks at a time.  I found this had two effects:

  1. I generally felt less needy or seeking of male attention.
  2. I slept soundly all night.

Another girlfriend suggested I consider whether it’s had the unintentional effect of making me lazy in my “search.” Would a month of pent-up desire change how I behave when out among potential suitors? Or change my energy or appeal to them?

To define what I’m looking / holding out for more specifically:  the last time a relationship felt truly special and magical was with my last boyfriend, who I met around this time (gulp) nearly two years ago. And we hung out a few times before feeling any emotional closeness. And we talked a lot on the dates we’d had. And, even though it took me less than a month to ask him to spend the night — and I really, honestly meant just to cuddle, but you know how that goes (especially when you haven’t really planned it out and end up topless after removing your bra because you failed to change in advance or have a tee-shirt ready) — it was sweet and tender and slow. It’s even fair to say I didn’t fully appreciate it at the moment but, if I could only use one word to describe how he behaved toward me and discovering my body for the first time, I would use “reverential.”

So I’m looking for reverence; that experience of someone who cares for me and is capable of tenderness and connection, someone who values me and cherishes my feelings, someone who genuinely desires the whole of me. And I’m just not interested in getting physically involved for anything less.

feeling blessed

I have long known the power of gratitude, and I genuinely try to be a practitioner of gratitude consciousness, remaining ever aware of my blessings. This is difficult to do when one’s primary relationship is toxic and while going through a divorce, so there were several years during which I struggled mightily to maintain a positive outlook.

I can honestly say that I’m mostly there now…feeling happy and blessed is my normal state of mind. Further, I believe I’m experiencing the results of this energy; things I’ve wanted to manifest for some time are practically hurtling toward me.

Take, for example, my home:  I’ve had contractors for two separate household projects either begin work or call to move up the start date of their respective projects. How perfect that I’ve just had a long weekend with a free day to drive around shopping for paint colors, tile, knobs and fixtures until I was positively exhausted! How cool to have finally found a combination of elements that inspired me and I believe will come together perfectly!

The other day, one of my children proclaimed me “awesome” and went on to enumerate the reasons I’m a great mother. It warmed my heart!

Another example is all the friends, neighbors and even complete strangers who’ve offered to set me up on dates. A wonderful married couple in my neighborhood are conspiring to have a backyard party where I will be in the company of a single man they think might be a match — at the very least we have a few things in common. And the woman who helped me at a tile shop the other day asked me if I’d like to meet her brother-in-law. Yes.

Finally, I was reading a book about financial abundance (money) that suggested writing down everything incoming each day, regardless of the source. (Obviously, this is meant for entrepreneurs, not folks like me who receive a salary.) Still, I added up my salary, bonus and even the support I receive for my children and realized that the number I’d given myself as an annual target a couple of years ago has already been surpassed. I finally feel as though I’ve recovered (financially) from my divorce and can really focus on planning for my and my family’s future. It’s time to set a new goal and open myself to other ways of receiving!

Getting to spend two days on the lake — getting sunshine, exercise and a chance to catch up with girlfriends — over this long holiday weekend was the icing on the cake. As a dear friend often says, “to the bounty!”

Cheers…to the bounty, indeed!

the dangers of infatuation

No doubt if you’ve been reading lately, you’re thinking, “Duh, lady; he’s just not that into you.” And it’s probably true.

I’m doing my best to keep my head on straight and just enjoy the blissful anticipation and agony associated with my not-particularly-secret crush. But the truth is, I’ve entertained so many fantasies that I’ve already decided I like him. And this is what’s dangerous about a situation like that…which is, in fact, infatuation:

Before he’s ever asked me out, before I’ve experienced whether he behaves like a man and treats me like a woman, before I’ve even experienced one-on-one time in a dating situation, my mind is made up that I like him. And that’s not always a good thing.

You see, we’ve done the colleague happy hour thing — and he’s lovely and genuine and always picks up the tab and surprises me a warm hug each time we’ve gone out — but that’s as a colleague at happy hour. I’ve felt a few people out:  he’s as well liked and respected as I suspected…in a professional context.

But the other day, I ran into him and he picked on me. Being smarter than my fifth-grade self, I thought, “this boy likes me.” Yet few adult women really want to receive affection in the form of being picked on. Teased yes; picked on no.

So, if we ever did go out, it would be interesting to see how he behaves toward me in that context. Would he be different or the same as he is every day? And the purpose of dating is for two people to explore whether they have a connection or like each other or their values and desires match. So when one of two have already decided…well, feelings can get hurt.

And that’s why I’m dialing my feelings back, enjoying whatever flirtation or interaction there is, smiling and being friendly, and just enjoying the exciting feeling of having a crush. If nothing more comes of it…well, the sense of anticipation and possibility still feels wonderful, and I may as well enjoy it!

love triangle

I have a thing for a man at the office. It’s odd, really:  He’s not the tallest nor darkest nor handsomest man around, yet my insides turn to mush when I run into him in an elevator or hallway; I blush and prattle on nervously when he chats me up; I thrill at the sound of his voice…

And I’ve no indication he feels anything for me.

Another guy at the office does have a thing for me. His feelings are, perhaps, every bit as strong and real and enduring as mine for the other. And I don’t feel the same way.

Isn’t that just the way of things? We don’t want what is offered to us but, rather, what is unattainable or impossible. (Note to self:  stop believing this nonsense and perhaps it will go away!)

Far too many daisies have been plucked apart, petal by petal, in my imagination; far too much mental energy consumed with musings and fantasies. This confounding desire has driven me to distraction. It must come to a stop.

Were it only so easily done as said! If only all the mental math and magic I’ve invested had a payout at the end! Yet things are always sweeter and better when they come as a surprise, so I shall let go, step back and trust that higher powers have my best interests at heart.

You have my oath:

I shall stop trying to influence the outcome. I shall be a vessel of feminine energy. I shall stop envisioning him lustfully impaling me atop a credenza…

On second thought, that is a rather racy and enticing vision; it would be masochistic not to allow myself that much.