am I being judgmental?

Two things, really:

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

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

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

Is that so wrong? Or am I being judgmental?

not the usual floozy

A dozen years ago in NYC…

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

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

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

what I want right now

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

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

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

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

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

the one before the one

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

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

coming home to an empty house

Last night…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

there were things I hated, too

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am not alone…real dating horror stories

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there’s more!

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

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

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

deconstructing attraction

Most of us are pretty good at noticing when we’re attracted to someone. And often, we don’t take the time to analyze why or what it all means. So let’s take a moment to break this down:

There’s the obvious physical attraction, which may have to do with appearance, style, smile, eyes, pheromones or any number of other external characteristics.
There’s intellectual attraction, which I’ll define as getting turned on by the way someone thinks or expresses himself, and is often experienced when you get the feeling you could talk to the guy forever and never get bored. Of course, this needn’t require the object of affection to be a genius. Sometimes simply being able to hold a conversation and have presence and attention is enough. And we’ll lump those things into this category.
And there’s emotional attraction. It’s a bit slippery to try to define this one, because for women it often gets muddled right into the other two without a lot of thought. We often mistake an intellectual connection for an emotional bond. In fact, many of us (both men and women) use the words “think” and “feel” interchangeably at times.

Yet I’ve been learning that there’s a distinct difference for men. Men can be attracted physically and intellectually to a wonderful woman, and still not feel an emotional connection to her. They may want enjoy conversation with her, totally want to bone her and still not be drawn to her. (All this is the summary version of what I’ve learned on relationship expert Chris Carter’s site.)

As both an intelligent and highly physical women, this is a difficult concept for me to get my arms around. I never thought too much about it, because chemistry seemed to come so easily and naturally for me — and it was usually mutual. But I am beginning to understand my part in emotionally attracting men, which is to use those “I feel” statements relationship expert Rori Raye talks about. Learning to do so is forcing me to be more authentic and in the moment in all of my daily interactions, whether with men or women, in person or over the phone.

While this way of communicating is not entirely intuitive to me and I sometimes have to think about it, I like the response I’m getting. I can feel myself drawing others in. And maybe somewhere along the way I’ll draw in some special guy with some super ninja emotional magnetism!

women, men and sex

Who was it who so astutely observed that men can’t think straight until they have sex, while women think straight until they have sex?

You’ve seen the scenario play out, likely from either angle:

A man chases a woman, acting a fool, his crazy behavior driven by her complete indifference to his overtures. If he finally does achieve his goal of “nailing her,” he’s either immediately over it or caught up in a lifetime of misery.
Conversely, a woman who goes home with a complete stranger for a hot fix may well find herself having white picket fence fantasies about him and their future together the next day. (Many of us will deny we do this, but we do. And, yes, most of us are aware that it’s entirely irrational.)

The behavior in these two rather extreme examples is neither logical nor reasoned, but instead based on evolutionary survival mechanisms called instinct. Men, regardless of evolution, have a bit of needing the chase in them. This drive allowed them to survive and provide for their families and communities thousands of years ago. Women, on the other hand, are driven by a hormone called oxytocin, which is released simply through touch (and, of course, orgasm) and causes feelings of warmth, intimacy and concern. The result of these effects was women who nursed, bonded with and protected their babies — again, a basic function of survival.

So where does this leave us? Well…I’ve recently been envisioning a scenario that might look something like this:

A woman and man occasionally hang out. They are not dating, as far as they know. They enjoy each other’s company and are intrigued enough to go back for more, but neither has made an attempt to wrap any sort of meaning or parameters or definition around it. Still, more and more, they find themselves touching each other and kissing good night at the end of the evenings they spend together… Let’s imagine they find themselves becoming physically involved…they are now in the throes of a naked, steamy moment.

What is he thinking? “Awesome! This feels great! We’re having sex!”

What is she thinking? “Awesome! This feels great! He wants something deeper with me, too!” (Double entendre intended.)

These two could very well be on the same page and be thinking thoughts that ultimately end up being pretty close to each other’s meaning.

Or they could be worlds apart, with him feeling nothing more than a physical attraction to her…”friends with benefits,” as it’s commonly called (although I often prefer “sport f@%k” for its implied aggression).

So…will these two get physical? Will their intentions meet? Will they find themselves in awkward discussions before, during or after the act?

What do you think? What story line would you like to pursue? What are your views on the issue?

so, I finally got some…

It’s rather pathetic, don’t you think, that I feel the need to announce publicly each and every time I get a little action?

The lobbyist was in town, we exchanged some texts and, after scrambling for a babysitter, found time to meet for a cocktail. And when someone invites you to meet in the lobby bar of his hotel and you agree, it’s pretty much understood what’s on the agenda.

So, it was all good (not great). I was struck by noticing that it’s simple human touch that I miss the most. I just loved being kissed and caressed. But, truth be told, we’ve always had this insanely hot undercurrent of chemistry…the kind which might lead a girl to believe that a man so straight-laced and mild-mannered might be an absolute animal in the bedroom. I mean, I kind of hoped he might have really wild and kinky proclivities underneath it all. Guess what? He didn’t. He was just a straight-laced, mild-mannered guy — exactly what you see when he wears a suit.

And it was still lovely to be touched, kissed and appreciated, and to lie in a man’s arms.