My husband is slow

I often accuse my husband of being slow
Not in a negative light as in a "slow thinker" or dim witted
Rather he is methodical, calculating, planning everything
In his head thoughts revolving and turning, obsessing and burning
For weeks, months, for he is both creative and diabolical in his assessments
And will deliver near perfection in answer and summary for "less than" is never good enough for he
He is not prone to compulsive action or thought such as I
I have a quick answer for every problem, a quick solution for each dilemma
Though I think, true, and think through, I sometimes act where I should halt
I sometimes speak where words have wrought greater damage still and silence is a welcome shrill
Doing naught is a veritable impossibility for me
Yet he will wait and watch and muse
And while I think I win for action's sake
He must correct the damage wrought by my compulsivity and thus I lose
Never underestimate the silent and slow nor mistake them for weak or deficient
They will still be planning, plotting and producing while you with wasted energy spent

fall before you fly-to my dearest husband

I longed for wings, I longed for things, emblazoned fear from denial so wrought, until all excuses did so diminish what was a heart once bold, my inspirtation cold, until the only words I could utter, hopeless
In my stationary limbo, twas easier to declare that my wings refused to sprout, the proverbial skin stayed smooth and unblemished save for the red dryness where I picked and poked and prodded searching for the smallest sign, a random feather, broken skin with smallest growth, and yet there remained no indication just endless miles of smooth dermis
I longed for bumpy uneven surface, prelude to gorgeous, sparking wings that weighed my shoulders down and extended beyond my mortal shouders, to serve as a brilliant canopy to catch the wind and divert for flight, the smoothest down cloak to shelter me from gusts of wind that whoosh and whirl while one rides the chariot of the night sky, wings to rival the ancient gods or the equivalent of the archangels' own
and still the days passed and there remained no sign
until the day you tired of my hoping and vaulted me over the cliff into the sun, you always told me I had to fall before I flew but I always thought you were talking in the blessed proverbial. In truth you had grown weary of my waitng for greater things and blessed, cursed man did you take matters into your own to goad my dreams to reality
and as I plummeted to earth and cursed your name for you had turned away, my security had abandoned me, my longing to live, to survive and become more of what I knew I was consumed me, the basest instinctive will to live and not become one with hardest ground,
for the earth that circled close looked brutal and unwelcoming, a nasty grave while the wind beckoned, it soothed my trembling skin and spoke of lightness with clarity
the second before my fate was sealed, my back it arched, my skin erupted and the canopy of light and gold that transformed my heart from weak to bold, the canopy enveloped, the angel's wings sprouted and saved me from my oblivion,
as I began to soar above the earth, velocity and direction diminished as I rode each gust highter, above the canyon, above the earth to my destiny, dreams manifest to accept no less than your own greatness, to never wait and long and wonder for that which you can MAKE HAPPEN NOW
and as I scanned the horizon line, I saw the smallest speck, of life, zooming closer twas you looking up with arms outstretched, to catch me just in case I should fall
my anger fled I smiled instead for I did need you after all

the first meet

She walked confidently into Starbucks, appropriately dressed for a first encounter post match communication, 7 jeans and a black sweater, conservative yet classy, as the plunging neckline does not facilitate an engaging yet moderate first impression when one's eyes are cast mid chest as opposed to reminding one that yes, you have eyes. And they are right up here under my scalp.
She looked around hesitantly, and shuddered in concern as a pot bellied, sweaty, fifty something with a bad comb over met her eyes. He raised his frappochino in greeting, and she took note of the classifieds that lay askew upon the wooden table. It couldn't be Ed, her witty and assuredly handsome match friend with whom she had been bantering this past month. This horribly middle aged monstrosity was both unappealing and jobless. Been there, done that she mumbled in repose over a bad memory from her younger years.
A hand motioning from the corner table caught her eye. There was her Ed! Handsome, younger, great smile. She nearly floated over to his table in blessed relief until he opened his mouth and proceeded into a diatribe of how hot she was, what a great body she had, did he look as good in person? While her mouth widened as if to catch flies but really in shock over his immaturity and horrid communication. He proceeded to tell her that he drove a porsche ( on a vice principal's salary) but that he was up to his eyeballs in debt due to the economy and "not wanting to budget though I should ha ha". He then asked her income, her weight, and finished off his line of questioning with "what great chemistry, do you feel our chemistry, and we would have great sex." She paused, and smiled as it occurred to her that what was great about this situation is that she could walk away, which she longed to do, quickly and assuredly flee out of starbucks. Instead she grabbed Ed's arm, nicely whispered that she enjoyed meeting him but had a plane to catch, and sauntered toward the front door. So this did not work out, no big deal. He was one of many and there had to be a few good picks among the bad apples. But as she walked by comb over man on her way out the door she felt fleeting regret as she knew he would have at least been a standard above the idiocy she just endured. Oh well, NEXT!!

the match series volume 1

This series of blogs will highlight my dear friend's adventures in the on line dating world.
And thus my friend returned to online dating, and found a plethora of potential matches in her "in box". Those who emailed her soliciting interest and a desire to communicate or "meet up" (some creepy, some with potential, some of the wrong "sex"). Those who "viewed" her page but did not include a message or greeting (she had mentally categorized those folks who opted to look and not communicate as indecisive or shy and could not bother with them; no time to waste on the wishy washy in her pursuit to find love) and with a sigh of resignation she began to filter through the responses. A series of questions assaulted her mind as she reviewed the potentials. How many suitors were honest in their profile content and pictures? Why do men think that posting pictures bare chested, with questionable wash board abs as their main profile picture is ever ok? And why do bi-curious women write to a designated hetero sexual woman with an obvious declaration of "woman searching for men" on her profile view? The same sex is for friends and friends only. Being a female is difficult enough, trying to understand yourself and your emotions is a challenge. Why on earth would she attempt to take that on in a partner? Back to the pictures-do 45 year old men seriously think that including a high school senior picture circa 1982 with mullet and "Van Halen rules" would lend credibility to an otherwise shady posting? And the several inquiries from 20 something, barely through puberty youngsters? Puhlease, she was so over the training wheel period of her life. NO matter how hot, anything less than 35 required an owners manual and detailed directions on building and maintenance. Let someone else train that trick pony. After several hours of perusal, and a few decided potential "dates" with seemingly good looking professionals who hopefully had their shots, were not drop outs from Rikers or former detainees from the state mental hospital, she closed her computer with thoughtful yet guarded anticipation of the adventure of dating upon which she would soon embark. Stay tuned.

Return to match.com

Online dating is a slippery slope. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, always interesting. We have all done it, loved it, hated it, left it and returned to it, much like a bad relationship. An old friend has returned to online dating after a hiatus, and this blog posting was written from her perspective, in her honor, to capture what we have all experienced..

She distinctly remembers the great excitement/apprehension she felt upon first posting her profile to match.com. A flurry of unanswered questions swarmed her mind. Would anyone look at her profile and take an interest? Was the content exiting, informative, characterize her appropriately, or was it scripted and cliché, a cookie cutter version of what everyone else was saying. And so that first evening, heart pounding, nails bitten to the quick, she logged in and was fairly overwhelmed with the large volume of likeminded single men (and some women, gulp) who were interested in her profile. In retrospect she knew how naïve that was, how sometimes match was just a nightclub in cyber space, and it really took a discerning navigator to read through the fluff and select suitable candidates for that first meet. And her second wakeup call and thus extremely crucial lesion learning was the first “meet”. Handling the disappointment and shock over the men that did not resemble their profiles, by twenty years/pounds/ and IQ points. How to handle men who made no qualms about sexual impropriety and their selfish use of the internet as a new medium for physical conquest, at your behest. Not to mention the large amount of simple losers out there looking for love.
After six frustrating months without a solid suitor, she deleted her profile, and took a long and introspective sabbatical. She pondered the experience, weighing the positives vs. the negatives of cyber dating. And while deciding that it was not for her at the moment, she did not rule out an eventual return to match.com for the second go round.
And here she was, two years later, after cleaning the clutter and straightening her spirit, ready to try on line dating again. This time she was much better prepared for the experience, knowing which tactics to employ for the game ahead, and avoiding the silly and yet sometimes debilitating disappointments’ when things didn’t’ work out. For don’t we all get caught up with our thoughts or ideals of what we think a person is going to be, and thus bank on that day dream vs. leave an open mind for what could be a shadier reality. And as she posted her profile, there was no nail biting, no apprehension, rather an appreciation for the wild ride that loomed ahead, and the laughter and lessons it would surely bring the second and better time around. Open mind, open heart, zero expectation, urgency or mad dash. She had time, she was discerning and she would keep her standards high no matter what, for she knew she was a catch and what she brought to the table.
And dear reader, stay tuned for more postings about "return to match .com".

the usual suspects go downtown

Saturday night my group of friends and I celebrated a multi birthday bash at the Ivy roof top bar; the best place to people watch in San Diego. The battle ensued between the not so beautiful people that comprised the crowd (those fake tanned, surgically enhanced, questionable millionaires you use to see at the Barefoot bar/beach comber round up who have been "about 42" since 1990 drunkenly chasing the scantily clad wait staff and/or the barely legal youngsters who asked them to fish for beer at am/pm their senior year of highschool-which was last June) vs. the beautiful people in the crowd (those fake tanned, surgically enhanced, questionable millionaires screwing their faces in strange and complex expressions to the front doorman in vain to look like their fake IDs, while fleeing from cougars and drunken quasi 42 year olds and wondering why their pursuers look strangely like the old guy/girl who bought them beer at the am/pm senior year) and it brough a smile to my face and a sigh of relief over my boringly domestic married life. Of course the usual suspects, my wonderful friends, were unanimously dressed and pressed in their requisite "down town" duds, and I have to reminisce at our dynamic, for we have all matured and evolved without changing our core personalities or how we interact. And some of us have even progressed from pink lipstick, the Jennifer Anniston 90s shag and penny loafers (yes girls, I did finally realize that the wet and wild shocking pink lip gloss that I clung to went out in 1993, and I am so thankful you introduced me to my new best friend "mac" in 1999). We all poke fun at the unique characteristics that have branded us forever within our crowd, the impetus of many drunken laughter and mimicry as we reminisce via facebook or text the morning after. For example, case in point Saturday night, I can still have been introduced to the same person 5 separate times and blank on their name. Forgive me Cynthia. And then there is my beautiful blonde friend, spotted doing her quintessential right sided hair flip that signifies her status of officially being "buzzed". I became mesmerized with how each strand of her perfect blonde hair covered one full side of her scalp, much like Donald Trump before his fateful firing of an apprentice hopeful. Then there is my lovely friend who often looks at me around 11 pm and whispers "i wish I were watching Battle Star Galactica" while we exchange opinions on the controversial season finale. My other friend who always manages to kiss the hot twenty year old no matter where we are-she is a youth magnet. My friend who bemoans her single status, then turns around and has a hot new boyfriend her first month back on match. The topics of conversation have changed from the latest hook ups and quarrels to our children's inability to clean up after themselves, or the state of the economy, but as I looked around at the beloved faces of those with whom I have shared my joys and triumphs for close to 17 years, I am eternally grateful and humbled that I have experienced such lasting friendships with these wonderful and loyal folks.

week on, week off

Assimilating into my new life has been a duplicitious process; I am both joyful and daunted by being a step mother. We have my husband's children every other week, and the navigation between the two has taken some adjustment. One weekI will find myself worrying with my husband over his teenager's somberness, while hesitantly accepting my other step daughter's request to assist me in my house cleaning duties (for I want to encourage to cleanliness the torrential hurricane of disorder that is her life and yet my patience is tested as have to add an hour to the cleaning schedule as an eight year old's attention is easily diverted from the toilet bowl to Miley Cyrus). I have to find time to accomplish my personal responsibilities and adjust to the noise level generated by small children and adolscents; giggling plus questions plus running stairs plus hamster plus disney channel produces a decibel to which I am not yet accomostomed. It is a gradual process. At first I use to relish the weeks without them for the ease and lessened stress. Time with my husband running on the beach, blogging, dinners with friends. And yet the challenge therein at the end of that week being the mental preparation for the impending week of difference. Louder noise, increased stress. And then when they come it is like the rushing of wind, and it is amazing the joy generated by the simplest words of an 8 year telling you that she missed you. And now the diametric opposition of weeks has settled to a paradigm of appreciation for the differences of both-the simplicity of time alone with my husband, compared to the opportunity to experience an element of parenthood while inadvertently memorizing Nicklodean's Saturday night line up. Adjusting to the contrast and diversity of life is a stressful, joyful and bittersweet process. And I will always bless the sweetest words of a small child and how they have warmed a novice yet learned heart.

A graceful way to break up

Though I have many happy recollections of my single life, I unfortunately don't share that same fond memory for the breakups. The sometimes pathetic and down right cruel way the relationship tie was severed by an ex. And likewise similar recountings by disparaged and weepy friends questioning their self worth as a result of said "dump". Thus begs the question- Is there a graceful or gracious way to break up with someone? And if so, why couldn't those, so disparaged, have been the recipient of kinder words than those harsh ones that caused self esteem to plummet and hearts to break in a thousand disillusioned shards. The requisite, meaningless excuses or complete absence of communication (see blog entitled "fiery car crash" for more details) employed during a breakup can wreak havoc on an already vulnerable heart, and leads one to wonder why someone chooses that option when they have the opportunity to break away gracefully, honestly and prevent a lot of upset on both sides?


I have heard a million break up lines, the one time my ex called to speak to me as if any other evening's conversation, only to suddenly tell me things did not "feel right" an hour into our discussion of our impending weekend plans. Or the slick rick who called my close friend at 7am, the morning after their glorious overnight trip to San Franciso, to tell her he thought they were getting "too close". Of the many things they discussed during their mini holiday, his "five year plan" for them as a couple. Or at 18, the gorgeous marine sargeant who decided to let my high school friend Jamie know he was no longer interested in her by asking out another mutual friendI wonder if "sargeant idiot" thought Jamie would take that not so subtle hint of his ending their relationship. And to add insult to injury-this so called other friend called my friend Jamie to ask permission to go out with this guy-seriously. Justice was delivered for Jamie when we heard through the grapevine that our friend had a suprise visit to the gynecologist soon after her first date with the marine for a malady that Jamie was thankfully spared. My favorite break up excuse is the complete absence of excuse-your supposed lover just does not bother to show up to an arranged engagement, or ever call you again. I never understood that one. I have heard pathetic arguements to support this action, "it is the kinder, better way" or "she will get the hint without a weepy confrontation". Translation, it is easier for the coward thus engaging in these actions to flake out rather than confront and resolve. Or, there was not phone call because someone's hand was broken or cut off at the limb. My friends and I laugh retrospectively laugh over some of these shared experiences slash humiliations. But to all those considering breaking off a relationship, I humbly request that you adhere to the golden rule "do unto others as you would have them do unto you". Approach with honesty, be respectful, communicative and attempt to leave yourself and your soon to be exes dignity intact. The shoe may very well be on the other foot soon enough, and trust me you can only die in a fiery car crash one in a lifetime.

To miss you

I have always been a solitary creature, not prone to longing of individual or place, content to live with myself, exist with my own thoughts, conjecture and sometimes conversation
As a child I would spend hours entertaining myself, never hearing the door creaking and my worried mother so peeping her bemused head and inquisitive eyes through the crack to apprise and thus surmise this strange child who composed lyrics and plays to entertain the silent and invisible majority that comprised her friends
And though I formed strong friendships and convenient social attachments throughout the progression of my life, with overlong exposure I would feel thus confined and need to break free to the solace and silence of my mind and heart, belonging to the world but never truly apart, I chose to stay apart.
And then there was you. At first our periods of intimacy and companionship interspersed with separation were once again convenient to me, truly too much time with one human let alone a man would previously sent me into a threatened tail spin for fear of losing supposed relished and sovereigned autonomy, avoiding a connection or commitment for fear of rejection of self or reprisal of true character, would someone accept me truly. oh i was not sure.
And as our lives and heart drew closer and you demolished walls erected for closure and protection, i find myself most vulnerable and most open to you and despite myself think of you each moment and long for you each hour. What meaning is this, to miss someone if not hearing beloved voice or seeing sweet face, strange place to call home when all of one's time is spent with one's own and there is neither confinement nor resentment but sweet reality that this is where I am supposed to and most long to be..You are the only one I ever truly missed and the last one i ever want to kiss.

Cling together part 2

Today was a crabby day. I felt fat, tired, work was uninspiring and my back ached. I could run the gamut of minor annoyances that are plaguing me; truth be told, there is nothing substantially wrong and I am just having an off day. So instead of crabbing it up to my husband, and bitching down the proverbial list of every negative tic, I made an overall statement about my irritability, whicy drew from him both compassion for my plight and a kindred spirit. He proceeded to regail me with pent up frustrated confessions about his incompetant boss, as he could well empathize with the frustrating work component I shared. This both lightened his spirit and cleared his focus my way. When he arrived home, I was greeted with an enthusiastic kiss and plan to take me to dinner to "cheer me out of my gloom". This turned the corners of my mouth in an upward motion, enabling me compartmentalize my truly insignificant plight and focus on the positive. How fortunate I am to have a strong ally with whom I can share all of my joy, frustration and laughter. How blesssed to have a human litmus test to truly assess if my sour mood is justified or merely hormonal. How nice to have a person willing to put aside his frustration in consideration of my own. That is enough to turn any sour mood sweet!

you have to cling together

My husband and I invariably experience periods of discontent amidst the splendor of love. Ok, to more aptly put it, we fight. Not very often, but alas, not very well. There is a rational and respectful method to battle in which each participant expresses their contrary view point in a calm and collected manner, with empathy and understanding reciprocated though the point is not neccessarily agreed. We have not quite gotten to that point. And sometimes our mutual immaturity, in retrospect, shames and humors us. The period of acclimation when a relationship is newly established is tense enough. Integrating lifestyles is accompanied by exposure to new moods, habits and traits not necessarily desired. And we are expected to endure and ignore that which irritates us, as we made a conscious choice to blend lives and hearts. And though blanketed by love, there are proverbial snags in the fabric. And we are no exception. We shout, we pout, and the silence of intropsect and resentment ensues. And though we have gotten better, less delay between inception and resolution, as the initial arguements would last for a period of days and now we are laughing and enjoying each other soon after the heated exchange. Nevertheless occasional criticism and hateful words are flung, which we later so duly regret. How does one fight well? When strong emotion is the basis for a passionate and loving relationship, the dark side to that coin is that those same strong emotions that elicited great love also spark great anger. It is a slippery slope. I love my husband, and yet we struggle with working together when we argue as oppossed to drifting away from our alliance when we have opposing views. An old friend once told me, when asked how she made it through the tense struggles she and her husband experienced when newly married and faced with financial, career and child rearing struggles, that you have to "cling together through the turmoil or else it will drive you apart." Wise words indeed. I feel as though my husband is my greatest ally, the one who understands and accepts me unconditionally, loving me despite and for all components of my being. Perhaps for our next arguement, instead of turning away in anger I shall grasp his hand and literally cling to his love, even while fuming or feeling resentment over something that will undoubtedly prove insignificant in the greater picture of life.

About this friend

I have a bevy of interesting and dynamic friends that invariably become the subject of one of my blogs. What better diversity of content to draw from than what is gleaned from their experience and perspective? And I do believe we all have that quintessential "friend" that dates and thinks like a dude, though she is unwaveringly feminine in appearance and demeanor. She just has the base common sense to accept when something is not working and thus make an alternate choice that will work, unlike most of us who steep in insignificance and disappointment waiting for a man to change or decide that he wants us. This pragmatism has worked primarily for her in that she can decisively filter through men that are not a suitable match, but worked against her in that she has perhaps been too picky in her selection. She become involved with someone late last year, who after a speculative period of time, she decided would be her next lover/boyfriend/companion. This is attributed partly to his slight mystery and elusivity during their courtship; she never really felt like she had him, therefore he became more appealing. Due to her charisma and beauty, men tend to fall rather easily, and the more disinterested she becomes, the more they pursue. The fact that this guy had stolen her lines and method, that she was forced to walk in the uncomfortable shoes normally worn by her suitors was a genius move on this his part. Though truly I don't know if his behavior was intentional; the result of a skilled hunter who can assess his prey and alter his mechanism of tracking to lure and thus capture. Or the proverbial pieces falling into place when something is meant to work out. And after months of not knowing exactly where she stood, true to nature, she grew bored and backed off. Likewise he was a little reticent about becoming too close too quickly. So they took a mutual break, dated others, and realized what they had together was way better for them both. Fast forward a month later, she is now in an official "relationship" with him, they have met each other's children, and things are falling into place quite easily. In seemed as if one minute they were walking in opposite directions and the next minute they had changed course to plot a path that helped them meet in the middle. And I wonder at the conclusion-timing, destiny, chance or strategic plotting? I speculate a little bit of them all. But thankfully I don't have to speculate on the outcome, for I see the paths forging towards each other until blessedly intertwined for a long lasting journey.

My husband's words on life with Elizabeth

My husband has agreed to a role reversal and will thus serve as guest speaker on this blog, commenting on life with a tornado. Though my verbiage, this is his true narrative.
Says he : "being married to you is like a roller coaster ride. The ups are like life on a desert island with no cell phones, no computers, no stress. The down's are like a ghost train.".
And of course i asked him what a "ghost train" was, as this s a British euphemism and my American ignorance seems to be kicking in. Sometimes I need a Webster's dictionary to follow a conversation with him. It is probably his smarmy English one up man ship.
He continued " A ghost train is a fair ground ride, with things that jump out and scare you, like ghosts and skeletons. "
Of course I became quite happy with him comparing me to a skeleton; my diet must be finally working.
Seriously, I try not to take offense to his insinuating that I am moody. Me, moody? As if.
he continues "every day is like an adventure." I stop him right there. I tell him to stop throwing cliche verbs and descriptors my way and tell me the truth about what life is like with me.
he goes on " I love it! I don't however like the downs, and sometimes I wish you trusted me more. The occasional distrust and questions are the ugly demons of your past rearing their heads".
I say "Oh and I suppose you are the priest who will exorcise my monsters. "
He continued "no the robes do nothing for my hips".
He continues "We are a good fit. We simply enjoy each other, like now. We don't need to endlessly plan activities to have a good time. We can simply "be" with each other. Renting movies, running on the beach, talking. We are content on our own. We don't rely on the stimulus of other people to enjoy our time. We like to occasionally tell the world to go to hell and be alone. That makes me happy. "
As a side bar, my husband has this "thing" with his feet. He does not like anyone touching his feet, so of course in between typing his words I grab at this feet, which annoys the hell out of him. My goal completely. After the third time of his dodging my attempts to tickle his ever elusive feet, he nearly falls out of his chair, which causes me to erupt in laughter. "Stop it". He commands. "if you want me to keep helping you, stop taking the piss out of me. " Another English verb. At least I know what that means. Stop making fun of me. But isn't that one of the essential elements to any good relationship, humor and balance. We are always trying to take the "piss" out of each other. We laugh together well, we co-exist and cross exist beautifully. And though he will have to deal with my "downs" from time to time, and he will have to endure my teasing and picking at his feet, that is what makes our connection strong enough for the long haul. The balance of humor and support. And I wouldn't trade this new life for anything.

People break up for a reason

I used to be good friends with a guy named Sean; a blunt Irish Bostonian who could always be counted on to call a spade a spade. His BS detector provided spot on insight and identification of any crap being peddled; he would provide relentlessly straightforward advice to we foolish girls being spoon fed lines extraordinaire by the loser of the month we happened to be dating. Of course in the moment the advice was resented and discounted, but in retrospect we nearly grimaced in disgust over the wisdom of his words and the foolishness displayed. One of the smartest things Sean ever said to me was in regard to a mutual female friend recently dumped by her cassanovaesque lover (who had been seeing her and forty other girls on the side). Out at the local watering whole a mere two nights after said heartbreak, we caught them on the dance floor playing tonsil hockey. "Whaat is that crap?" he spewed. "Didn't he dump her?" "Oh yes, but he wants to stay friends". I explained to Sean as if that was sufficient justification for our friend's ridiculous display. Over Starbucks that same morning, our friend tearfully reviewed the break up, and our dime store assessment was that the break up was due to her exes fear of commitment and rejection, and that he just needed "time" to be sure of her affection; he loved her that much. And then we were off to buy some beach front property in Arizona, fools that we were. Willing to by any sophmoric line presented by a guy (due to, um, yes I shall say it, DESPERATION) smart enough to realize how he could have his cake and it too, along with a dozen glazed donuts and chocolate brownies as well. Sean's observation raised my defensive caucles due to it's accuracy and disdain. He was on the verge of yet another brilliant assessment, and instead of busitng out a steno pad and writing notes, I began to get angry. Sean began "They call it a break up for a reason. When people break up, that means they stop communicating, hanging out, seeing each other for an extended period of time. " Again when I tried to correct his perspective, I was shut down instantaneously by one sentence. "Elizabeth, he basically told her she wasn't good enough to be committed to, and how she is acting validates her acceptance of his treatment, that she is however good enough to sleep with". I could not say another word. My face turned bright scarlet and I stormed away in self righteous indignation. Years have passed since I have seen Sean, but I swear if I ever run into him again I will give him a big hug and thank him for the words of wisdom it took me ten years to acknowledge and ultimately follow. However I am still trying to off load that beach fron desert property.

A right now happy ending

Several months ago I blogged about a friend who met a guy she was really crazy about; it was her first dating experience after a turbulent divorce, entitled "get off the see-saw". To review, the first few months were great until he summarily informed her he cared for her but still had feelings for someone with whom he had recently split. My very smart friend, instead of performing the requisite but destructive act of letting him off the hook and "waiting for him" , perpetuated strong self esteem and dignity by telling this guy to take a hike until he could make up his mind. To follow up, I did not have to provide any comfort or reassurance to her vacated heart. After several weeks, this ultimately wise man, (with the stark realization of life without her) vigilantly fought to win back her affection with an onslaught of emails, phone calls, flowers and unexpected "pop ins" until she relented and rejoined his companionship. Throughout this ordeal her actions were unexpectedly wise, befitting a seasoned dater rather than a novice newly thrust back into the single world. During their separation she neither pined nor sighed like a school girl, she dated, went out with friends, worked out and only shed an occasional silent tear over this loss. And when he resurfaced with his declarations of intent, she did not immediately acquiesce, but made him work for her affection and time. As she valued herself, his respect and value of her as a person followed suit. Thing are progressing nicely; he is a good man who made a small error in judgement, most likely due to fear of the unknown, and/or fear of rejection. I will leave the psycho analysis to Freud. However my friend is to be applauded, for her actions and positivity virtually prophesied her positive outcome. Oh if only the rest of the worlds relationship problems were so easily resolved.

Leave the wine/whine at home

Several years ago, I was out for drinks with an old high school friend. Over a robust Shiraz she bemoaned her fate. Dumped again by another loser with no seeming reason or rationale. It was like watching Ground Hog Day with a bad hangover. I had memorized the script and the familiar players, only with each showing I prayed for a different outcome. My gaze lowered to an expanse of cleavage and tight jeans. Interesting how some styles don't evolve or progress, though the years always do. And with each glass of wine, her eyes became less focused, her words and lips freer, and the truth finally emerged. "He told me I was different, and special. He called me all the time and made all this effort. Then for no reason, his behavior changed, I heard from him less and less, and then it was only to hang out late at night. I don't know what I did. "I asked her a simple question. "how long did you make him wait?" all the while knowing the answer. She averted her gaze, "what do you mean?". I repeated myself, and she proceeded into a ridiculous diatribe of self delusion and denial. Telling me that my views were antiquated. That if grown people wanted to have sex and the consent was reciprocated, it did not matter. And whilst I agreed, that was on the premise that both individuals had zero expectation beyond the moment, and certainly no plans for longevity. And my friend did not fit into that category. Once again she slept with a guy on the first date, Which led to this perpetuated cycle of impulsiveness, excitement, satisfaction, shame and regret. If you want a different outcome, you need to change behavior and your entire paradigm. And the plain truth prevails;, men like the chase, and men always pick the girl who makes them wait, and work. They are quite simple. After the initial meet, women are instantly categorized, and when men realize they aren't an easy catch, they either relinquish or intensify the effort. Mainly the latter as they are simple creatures who never shy away from a challenge. So when they are given what the want, instantly, the interest predictably vanishes and their attention is turned to another triumph. The pity is that my friend is almost 40 and she has still not had enough reality beatings to divert her mind set and adopt my 'antiquated views." She still drank like a fish, accepted less than she deserved, and slept with men too quickly..I had not a whit of judgement for her, rather regret for I had been in her shoes too many times and knew what she was missing. The repression of our impulsiveness, though difficult at the moment, will result in your long term goal of companionship and love. And I much prefer waking up to the same warm smile and blue eyes as opposed to a hangover and conveniently empty place where a stranger's head once lay.

the perfect day

the perfect day starts with nary an agenda, no set plans or focus, friend merge to share in the warmth of common experience and familiarity, people that know you to your core, and accept all flaws, all idosyncrancies, and embrace your differences that drive negativity to perfection, when the warm sun kisses your cheeks and comforts your sadness, when you are enveloped in a circle of acceptance and trust, with those who have helped you survive your darkest hour and driven your greatest accomplishments, whom you have known most of your life and will perpetuate that bond to your death, you have experienced the perfect day and a rare joy that only comes fleetingly, yet the memory will survive forever.

Open the door to your heart

When one experiences heartbreak and repeated disappointment in love, it becomes much easier to retreat within ourselves, to that safe area of limbo, where we are immune to the possibility of another rejection. The dark side of that safety net is isolation and confinement, where one becomes so accostomed to solidarity that the world becomes grey, lacking luster and color, mired in the perpetual cycle of isloation, where we are unable to experience, evolve and feel joy. The heart must be open to opportunity; the walls erected to protect us in truth confine us to a prison of disillusionment and sadness. This blog is for anyone who has suffered thusly.
The proverbial door to my life was sealed shut, so tight, to let in neither sun nor oxygen
Little did I know that the cold stale air was suffocating me, so accustomed was I to the cold that with each ragged intake my breathe would crackle and freeze
My own weak arms my sole embrace, my tears frozen tracks upon my pale face,
The only sound I heard was your faint knocking, and yet I could not venture forth to the dimming light
Forever was the dark night of my existence that soon only my own words would make sense
For they were all I had left to hear
But still you persisted and my unsure footing propelled me forward, to the iron gate in which I had imprisoned my self
To the detriment of peace of mind and health
And once I lifted the latch and released the lock, a whoosh of fresh air filled the vacancy, the sun and your smile they greeted me
My squinting gaze alarmed by the brightness of light and smile and touch
I did not know, behind closed doors that I had missed so much
And yet like a cornered animal I did retreat, for many before had tried and failed to defeat the demons of doubt that did consume,
for many years I did barricade myself within this room
But you gently taught me that this was not the only life I was destined to know
And you slowly taught me to let go
Still I sometimes resist for I am not fully accustomed to the gentle warrior willing to take up arms for this battle, yet not his fight
However I am thankful to you, my bravest one who still for me will ever defeat the night

What I shall recall

Once again this morning you diverted my expected crabbiness with a steaming cup of Jamaican blue mountain coffee in my favorite coffee cup and did not question my silence or lack of cognizant thought, for you know I am not a morning person
And as I opened the cabinet I noticed that you had remembered my favorite, cereal (captain crunch) my favorite lunch meat (fat free bologna-no nutritional value, but 25 calories of the best crap ever) and all the condiments were facing forward (to humor my ridiculous need for order and structure at whatever cost)
And my recollection of this sweet consistency takes me back to last night, when you were, unprompted; researching the requirements for obtaining a British passport for you remembered that I asked about it 2 weeks ago last Tuesday.
The irony is you may occasionally forget your own needs, but you never seem to forget mine
Your thoughtfulness shames me and your love it truly humbles me.
And you make sure the house is clean after the children have left, and you never complain when I feel the incessant need to remind you of all the things on our (my) to do list
You cock your head to the side and smile your silly smile, amused, and seemingly unfazed by my sometimes exhausting bent for efficiency and production
And once again I return to the thought that makes my eyes mist, taking care of mine and everyone’s desires is second nature to you
And what do I do-besides drive you crazy
You simply replied “you make me a better man”
At least I am relieved to contribute something, though I feel my effort is sorely lacking compared to yours, however, as you remind me, love is not a contest (again I am ridiculously competitive) .
How things change as we mature, yet of this realization I am sure
I have been gifted with diamonds, and driven in luxury cars and someone’s secretary remembered my birthday in 2007--how thoughtful of them
I have wasted time and effort on much less deserving men
But as the years and age will surely diminishes all recollection true
At the end of my days all there shall be left to recall is you

A slow but productive recovery

This blog pays inadvertent homage to someone very special to me; an old friend with whom I recently re-connected after a long separation. Throughout an emotional and lively discussion summarizing the last 15 years of our lives, the joy, heartbreak (which she has unfortunately experienced in spades over an extremely painful divorce) and triumph, her smile was alight with enthusiasm, and her eyes never lost their hopeful exuberance, even while teary over a particularly raw recounting. Hers was a particularly painful divorce; substance abuse being the main proponent of their demise, followed by the destructive aftermath of ruined credit, court battles and poor health at 38. The final step was moving from a multi million dollar home back to her parent's house, sharing a bedroom with her youngest daughter. The disintegration of a beloved mate, alone, from a strong and stalwart man to a paranoid, self destructive stranger would have stolen the hope from those less resolute. The entire combination of these tragic events would have put the less determined in the nut house. And yet, true to form, after the dust settled, she slowly began the healing process, returning to life with perhaps more speculation and wariness, but still able to smile, laugh, and even looking forward to the possibility of love. And there are many of us who are currently sad, or have previously felt depressed over a less substantial break up, the only effect on our hearts, not our families, safety or finances. I am not trying to diminish the pain that accompanies this loss, merely trying to put reaction in perspective. When relationships don't work out, there is usually a very good reason. And no matter your belief system, that was the way it was destined to work out. Take stock of what did not work, take time to mourn and recover, (smoke your cigarettes, eat your chocolate, drink your wine, say your prayers, whatever your therapy) and then end the suffering. You were most likely spared an ill suited match, to allow you the opportunity to grow, mature and meet your prince charming. Fight the funk! Respond to your future. You can think of a hundred reasons "not" to do something, but you only need one to do something.

What 's the rush?

My husband dated regularly before we met. And though never a "bed hopper" nevertheless being a handsome and intelligent brit (anyone care to swoon over that accent?) afforded him the companionship of always attractive, mostly sane females. The emphasis on "mostly" sane. For there were the requisite crackpots, those females in such a rush to couple and procreate that they were discussing china patterns and baby names on the first date. Ok perhaps not to that exagerated degree, but to the extent that more than one female on the second or third date expressed the desire to both meet his children and "move the relationship forward". FYI-trying to prematurely rush a relationship is the dating kiss of death; I am allowed to express this opinion as I have made the same mistake myself. Of trying to expedite and manipulate a fledgling relationship before it's true inception. Unfortunately, some people who are bereft of companionship for an extended period of time lose perspective regarding a realistic relationship timeline. Loneliness thus motivates a fabrication of companionship at the first hint of attraction, resulting in a cloak of proverbial desperation that makes one person resemble a creepy stalker and one person want to flee for the hills. I don't attribute this behavior solely to loneliness. There are those who prematurely discuss permanency and relationship status in pursuit of ego or conquest; they prey on the vulnerable rather than embodying them. For the gratification of their selfish desires or outcome. For example, a close friend recently met a guy who spoke of marriage and babies 4 hours into their dinner date. When she giddily relayed this to me, the hair on the back of my neck rose. I am extremely speculative of anyone who discusses these things on the first date. I find it extremely suspicous behavior and warned her accordingly. Imagine my surprise when she later informed me that he had #1-tried to plan a "slumber party" on the second date and #2-had not called her when she had rebuffed his advances, asking him if he would not mind waiting. Dear Reader, I am not a complete cynic, having myself met and married my husband within 9 months of meeting him. However, our first date consisted of high tea at the 4 seasons hotel, where we discussed mutual interests in movies and English history, and laughed over the silly antics of our close knit families. He was not trying to plan his next bedroom move, nor was I crocheting baby booties under the table. It was natural, and it flowed, and the segue into our engagement was neither plotted nor postured. Things were meant to be and it happened that way. Trust me, I had to learn patience. In the ten years between my first and second marriage I had plenty of time to repeat mistakes until the lessons stuck, I stopped blaming circumstance, everyone and their cousin for my bad decisions, and honed my character to the point of ridiculousness. It was difficult, but it transformed this once impatient, impulsive creature hell bent on reckless relationship choices to a self assured, grounded individual enjoying her life as it was, mostly content to enjoy the now and wait for love to come. The key was that once I was ready, it came to me. And if you are willing to work on yourself, and let things happen naturally in relatioships, love will come to you and it will so be worth the wait.

love where you are

My life was a waiting period, a self imposed limbo, in which I flew in meaningless circles expending fuel and thought, and thought and thought about how great my life would be once I found love.
And now protesting words so muted over thunderstruck realization, to find what one has actively sought for so many years, to put the proverbial period at the end of this great sentence, to bypass prior impatience and uncertainty for that which is infinite and true.
For even after we have departed thus from this earth, this love, the utter content of my whole heart, will carry on.
And the regret that I possess is that in the aforementioned waiting period, though I did pursue my goals, persist in my hobbies and perpetuate the bonds of friendship and family..
I failed to realize that those moments, those small steps upon the greater path were the "living" and that I could enjoy the first part of the journey "alone" while stepping towards the hopeful destination.
I was fortunate for the time relegated for introspection and character development, whether by God for myself, or life/fate/circumstance for others, afforded me a due date when felt I was thus ready for the second half of my journey. The journey to be shared with my life companion; unbeknownst to us both, walking the same singular line towards each other, perhaps in different paradigms or processes but nevertheless our shared destination being our commonality.
And the retrospective clarity I now possess is that my time "alone" did not render me less of a whole person, but rather helped me to develop into a better person, that I may now actively and maturely contribute to this wonderful partnership. For back "then" I would not have been ready.
Please don't repeat the same mistakes. Embrace the status quo in pursuit of betterment of self. Don't settle for less, however don't think less of yourself if you are still bound for partnership and walk alone. For so many years I thought there was something lacking inside me, and now that I have found what I have been looking for, perhaps mournful perspective for not realizing what I had back then, for not fully embracing the solitude and making the best of my life at the time. For it was no so less wonderful then. The joys are different, the frustrations have shifted , but the preimminent balance is essentially the same.
Love where you are now, enjoy the present, live for today, don't plan your life away for you shall look up such a great amount of time will elapse and you will shake your head in bewilderment over days weeks months lost and all you have left is your to do list and daily planner.

Wedding Thoughts..

The moment more blessed now than while occurring
For then a dream, now manifest reality and thus end yearning
I recall bleached sand, your trembling hand, my mother’s tears
The exodus of all past desolation, disappointment and fears
I felt nary a moment’s hesitation, my focus clear
All chaotic stress now finite, nothing matters but this moment here

I remember looking at the clock’, the toll surreal, four o’clock, 30 minutes left until your wedding and thus your remaining single life and wondering how one should feel. How should I feel? My thoughts are racing and vacillate between random meaninglessness and surprising alacrity of depth as I get ready.
Thought #1-The last three months of chaos, change and frustration dwindling to a dim memory. Financial troubles, lifestyle changes, compromise, the dwindling economy, they all seem too trivial at this moment.
#2-My mascara is close to the expiration date-better hit CVS when I get home
.#3-I am forever to be the wife of the man that I adore, the one who truly fits into mine and my families lives, the quintessential missing puzzle piece that completes the diagram, blocks the empty space and makes all facets uniform and correct.
#4-Don’t forget to spray the insect repellant-you are already up to 7 mosquito bites.
#5-Inconsequential gossip, hurtful drama, broken promises, late arrivals, things that use to affect me and were seemingly grand in their affect now flee in insignificance compared to my new priorities, living with and for this person, helping ;provide a home and stability to his children
#6-If my eyelashes clump I am going to be so pissed.
I eye the satin and pearls that will soon shroud my figure proclaiming my temporary status and more permanent role of bride. As I slide the dress over my head, the satin material feels both cold and comforting.
I bend over to fasten the straps of my gold sandals, stand tall and appraise my reflection in the mirror.
As for my physical appearance-Hair-spiral curls intact, nails-check. Dress-perfect (I actually don’t look fat)
And now for the important confirmation-my inner status
Smile-dazzling and assured of this righteous decision, heart-beating strong and steady in its health and confidence, stance-firm and directed as I literally and proverbially prepare to walk down the sandy path towards my groom and my new life.
A small rap on the hotel room door; the wedding coordinator has arrived to escort me to my parent’s room that they may have the honor presenting me to my love during the ceremony.
My mother will be weepy and breathless; she has waited so long for this day.
And all I can feel is laughter and serenity. I hear the saxophone player start, the din of conversation and laughter as the guests arrive. And in my mind’s eye I see his twinkling blue eyes and clear, sweet smile, and all I can think is “I do, I do, I do!!!”

The blissful in between

As I sit down to write my marriage vows, I think about the final, leap of faith I am taking in the exciting, challenging, exultant journey I started 8 short months ago, when I met my fiancee. I feel a combination of happiness, mild anxiety and excitement regarding our life together..How does one envision "forever" with the individual with whom you are about to make a lifetime commitment. There is the fantasy, there is the reality, and there is the blissful in between. One cannot begin to know how things will turn out vs. how they want things to turn out. When we first planned our lives, we did so anticipating the ease of renting out my condo, successfully integrating our households, lives, with a secure financial cushion as our combined incomes would afford us a life of comfort, and independence. First came the crisis of global economy, the recession, this climate which prevented me from finding a renter, which affected my fiancee's industry and thus caused a cut in his company's workload and his income, even the pharmaceutical industry was affected and I lived with the dread of lay offs, having to lay off staff as well as wondering from day to day if I had true job security. This and other ancillary factors contributed to the potential demise of our plans, and the need to find an alternate course to reach our goal-and so we budgeted, and put our adventures on hold to keep a roof over our heads and security for his children. This endurance of stress and sometime disillusionment, caused us to re-asses the romantically impulsive decision we made to become engaged four short months after meeting. Despite all of the stress, he never wavered in his love, and despite my misgivings and resentment over having to budget for the first time in my life, and the drastic changes in my life (which my mother so aptly reminded me were my choice and thus i should "stop my whining" ) I too knew in the core of my heart that I was supposed to spend my life with this man, that this was something meant for me. We made the choice to love, to endure, and as I signed my renter's lease papers for my condo, and as his company recovered and his hours increased, and my ability to go to Nordstroms returned, (though not as much, rats) I thought, we held our course, we made it through, side by side..
Traditional marriage vows, love honor and obey, no problem there, check..I find humor as I think about the inevitable outcomes that should be presented as a disclaimer with vows. "I will hide all of my bad qualities until the day you place the warm, enveloping gold band across my trembling hand, and then once I have trapped you, out comes the makeup less, crabby shrew who throws away her gym membership for a lifetime of donuts card at crispy cremes+-check. Of course I am joking. Being fairly emotionally honest, and fiercely proud to be myself no matter what, my fiancee will not be horrifically surprised at some awful attribute I kept hidden under a rock until the day he was "mine". For example, shall we combust the 50s inspired fantasy of the man coming home to his dazzling housewife in her red stiletto's, shiny apron and perfectly coiffed hair; with a cheese souffle warming in the oven? As a home worker, with a stressful job in pharmaceutical research that requires me to work well above the typical 8 hr day, I rarely wear make up during the week, and my requisite job uniform consists of sweats and one of my fiancees t shirts. Likewise he is an electrical engineer in the boating industry and comes home smelling of sea salt and sweat from an honest day's work. And the end of times would not cause me to forgo my gym membership, as I am neurotic about my weight and go into a tail spin over a minimal gain. The point is, we presented our emotional and honest selves the day we met, and have done so ever since. That honestly I believe has held us together through some pretty challenging times that would have thwarted less stern and stalwart hearts.
I am looking forward to the "blissful in between" of our lives. I have found someone who accepts me unconditionally, the good, the bad, the ugly..As he knows there has to be a plethora of both positive and negative traits to comprise a balanced person. I look forward to the reality of a challenging life, and the peace of absolute comfort and vulnerability that your every trait has been exposed and accepted (though not always beloved) by your partner. I want my marriage vows to reflect the wonderful, difficult, challenging, joyful, exultant and triumphant journey that brought me to this point. The blissful in between, tears and laughter, chaos and peace, reality and bliss..That is what I want my life to be.

the worst date ever

The worst date ever....
Most of us veritably cringe in horror in reflection of some of our past dating experiences; unfortunately, as with any news worthy of reporting, the memories most significantly recalled are those tragic or hilaroiusly ridiculous dating experiences at our expense.They may have wrought tears, revulsion, frustration or unexpected laughter being witness to such outrageous behavior in someone who requested our company and time.
In the spirit of recollection and camaraderie over our shared dating experiences I have decided to blog about "the worst date ever".
I remember my worst date ever. Tragically, God provided me a glimmer of insight the evening before my date as to how things would play out, but I neglected to take this celestial hint and thus prevent myself crying in my cheerios in the negative aftermath.I wonder, in my determination to have a positive dating experience after the slew of jack assess who considered Denny's "fine cuisine" if even a clould of locusts or a mightly flood of would have been a strong enough sign to sway from my pursuit of decent date.
The night before my date I had been out dancing at a night club, and in the middle of "hammer time" I turned around a saw a familiar face dirty dancing with an attractive blonde in a tight black dress. Upon further glance I recongnized "Doug" (names have been changed to protect the guilty) the seemingly nice guy I had met who had asked me to join him for a quaint bayside lunch the following Sunday afternoon. Upon recognition, he passed alarming glances between myself and his tango partner, and then put on a passing poker face once he came to resolution of the potential confrontation. He then had the nerve to grab my shoulder when her back was turned, wink and whisper "are we still on for tomorrow". I shrugged a non chalant affirmation before turning back to finish my awesome cabbage patch maneuver in a pitiful attempt to impress him with casual reaction to the awkwardness. He was under no obligation to me and I figured he had the right to do whatever he wanted. I still intended to keep the date and come to further determination of his character after.
The next day, not only was he twenty minutes late, with no phone call, our quaint outing consisted of stroll down grotty Mission Bay Boardwalk, with no food and stilted, uninteresting conversation. Worse still, with the wonderful ethnic diversity that comprises the beach area, he felt inclined to make negative comments about "damn foreigners" and "euro trash". Mortified, hungry, and feeling increasingly uncomfortable over his mental stability, I foolishly stayed put, hoping for some glimmer of interest to spark. After several more minutes I recognized the imminent futility of that hope and resigned myself to an afternoon of pain.
All at once I recognized an attractive guy who frequented the same beach bar as I; he was riding a beach cruiser, smiling. To my then demented brain his bike was transformed into a white steed, he was armed with a lance and would surely come charging down the sand, sweep me to safety and trounce on the ingrate who had been wasting my Sunday. I never could get his attention, and the longest hour of my life elapsed between walking back to date's car, and the eventual drive home. I shudder in disdain over that experience, and curse myself for staying. I don't understand why I did not arrange a back up plan, to have a friend call my cell phone under the guise of distress. The code word for "save me" being an inquiry of "are you alright?" and thus departing effectively and innocently, with the intent to save a friend in distress. The code word for "he is hot and I am in heaven" being "oh, nice hearing from you." At least I don't have to worry about that anymore.
My significant other has a short, but tragic dating story. He had been seeing an attractive girl, who was petite and slight; it was the early 90s and the waifish look was in, therefore her slender physique, always disguised, under modest dress, did not alarm him.. He had arranged to take her to a up and coming, trendy restaurant, and was looking forward to partaking of the acclaimed cuisine. When dinner came, and she had not touched her food, he inquired as to any problems with the quality, and she shook her head and burst into tears. In an attempt to be galant, he motioned the server over to take back the dinner as he presumed she was in agony over the quality of the food. Through her tears she informed him she was an anorexic and thus unable to eat a full dinner, He kindly dried her tears, expressed comfort and understanding, drove her home and recommended a good internal medicine physician for treatment. He did not obsess nor analyze the experience; in his opinion the date was horrible because a terrific meal was wasted. Men are so wonderfully pragmatic. When something does not work, simply move on. I wish I had possessed such practicality.

What we are, what this is to me.

What we are:
We are both a little tortured, a little damaged and we shrug and mutually chuckle over this failing, this adversity that has become an ingrained character trait, gleaned and developed from years of bad choices, stubborn determination in the face of clear defeat, decisions based on love sick fairy tales we tried to manipulate to fit our convenient dreams, heads buried deep in the proverbial sand of denial, fear of failure and prevention of isolation. Almost anything to find that dream of true love, true companionship that eluded us. Or worse yet, once the poor substitute was discovered and established, anything to attain (in my case) or maintain (your case) something that was horrendously failing, to the detriment of our perception, peace of mind and perhaps our health. The faltering idea of love that we have pursued mercilessly, that which has betrayed us, manipulated us, misguided and ultimately failed us.
But did we fail ourselves for not recognizing the glaring clarity of our bad judgement and repetition of naivete? And at times, utter stupidity? Choices that prolonged pain, perpetuated shame, that we knowingly made to prevent the awful alternative?
or were we propelled by the forces of fate, destiny, or a merciful God who knew we would eventually find each other, but we had to become battered, bruised, with strengthened character, and defenses before the journey brought us here?
For whatever pain or betrayal I have experienced, for the knot of occasional paranoia and fear and lack of trust in my heart, wrought by years of failure that you are slowly unwinding, I would repeat almost every bad choice with the retrospective knowledge that the momentum of ignorance and immaturity would develop a rocky path that once trodden, would lead me to you.
You are my healing breath, you are my new found laughter, you are my ally, my comrade, one that, when reflecting upon shared experiences, can laugh, or shudder, or feel shame and say, "yeah, I remember how it felt to be there"..
And on the eve of the second horizon of my life, if it took the first twenty years to make all of the embarassing mistakes, horrific choices and eliminate all of the wild impulses, to come to this point here with you, where I have laughed, cried, have been re-born and died, it shall surely be followed by the eternal twilight of your companionship, your laughter, renewed inspiration and hope in myself, in us, for us, and what I thought I had eternally lost, or would forever try to find.Iknow now that I had to experience all of the dissapointment and suffer all of the seeming loss to develop the soul and character worthy of this love..

Get off the see saw

A close friend, divorced after 20 years of marriage to a completely self absorbed and self serving idiot, recently reconnected with a high school friend and began what looked to be a promising courtship. Rusty on dating etiquette and a bit daunted to "get back into the game after years in the penalty box" as she so aptly put it, nevertheless she took a deep breath and jumped into the proverbial dating pool. Unfortunately she did not use her head while diving back into romance, and thus perhaps maneuver intellectually, stepping slowly and considering her periphery, distance, rate of acceleration and velocity needed to make a safe water landing (trust she did not have a seat back to use as a flotation device). However as most novices manuevering impulsively from the heart, she performed an awkward, gangly jump, all legs and ankles and torso, with minimal direction and maximum thrust, resulting in a painful belly flop that bruised both abdomen and heart. After three wonderful first dates with this friend from her past, giddy with renewed feelings of attraction and infatuation, she fell into the requisite school girl mindset that "he could be the one" and began foolishly planning the possibility of their new life in her head. Prior to the fourth date she received a fateful phone call from said romeo basically informing her that while he "cared for her immensely" there was another he had been dating prior to her who decided that she wanted to "try again" and he felt inclined to invest his time and attention there due to lingering feelings. Devastated, I comforted my friend while reminding her that life offers no guarantees, and three dates does not a promise nor obligation make. And while I initially respected this guy for his honesty and what seemed to be an attempt at prevention of hurt on behalf of my friend, respect turned to suspicion and disgust quite quickly. I became a reluctant observer of the pull me, push me game men and woman play when they feel unsure of romantic inclinations and try to pursue multiple options before settling on the right candidate. And this guy was attempting to play my friend this same way. Dating multiple people can be healthy and interesting, if done with honest, open communication of expectation and intent. Everyone has the right to take every opportunity to decide what is best for them. But not the expense of someone else.
However, this guy decided to end things with my friend, and then email her two days later telling her he "could not stop thinking about her." Following my advice, she did not respond to his email. This was followed by an emotional phone call, where he informed her he was miserable, missed her and felt he had made the wrong decision, and that she may be the one. She said he was nearly "in tears". At this point my ire grew to great proportions, as I saw my friend being navigated unwillingly down the vasilating path of indecisiveness written by someone who wants to have his cake and eat it too. Taking advantage of a vulnerable person by playing upon her feelings and insecurity. The last advice I gave to my friend was that she was a worthwhile, wonderful person, worthy of someone's 100% time and attention, and if this guy truly cared for her he would give her said time and consideration which she so aptly deserved. And while this situation is still in limbo, it brings to mind past dating situations where I was on the see saw, and like the up and down manipulation, my heart would reel from someone's attention, and then plummet with that same individual's indecisiveness and distance. Regaining control in this situation is tantamount to peace of mind, and taking a final step and separating from the person pulling you forward and pushing you back, adding confusion and doubt to an already challenged self esteem provides great release. If somebody wants you and loves you, there is not much that can be done to prevent said singular pursuit. And ultimately people treat you as badly as you let them. I want my friend's first dating experience, though painful, to have a positive outcome in that she learns to walk away from a potentially destructive situation, to get off the proverbial see- saw and take the straight shot down the slide and away from this manipulation. I don't know what the outcome will be, I just know I will be her safe water landing no matter how it turns out.

Love does not hide

I was recently reminded of what I consider the most the most provoking and passionate lesson I learned about love, one that impacted me greatly, leading me to a strengthened realization to never accept less than what I deserve or compromise my ideals for mere companionship. This lesson provided a crucial impetus to leave an ex who had wronged me out of cowardice, not malice. This decision also unwittingly became the source of my latest weekly blog, in the form of an email from said ex after several years of silence. Apparently he had “found” my blog and perused the archives, focusing on one written regarding my sometimes destructive impulsive bent to manipulate my environment due to admitted impatience and try to force feelings or emotions that needed to evolve naturally. He highlighted the text he considered relevant to this compulsion and attempted to use it as justification for our demise, that I “pushed” him to feel for me what he wanted to “happen” naturally. If we had continued at his snail’s pace I may have received a ring and the “love” words I once longed for (that never came) by the time I was too old to hear yet alone comprehend them. And while he was partially correct with regard to my impatience, he seemed to have forgotten the main reason why I left the relationship, his cowardice. Previous to him I had foolishly dated his co worker, and during the course of our relationship I accepted his propensity for secrecy regarding our tryst and the rationale for this elicit behavior, the imagined negative repercussions and affect on his career should it be discovered that he was dating his buddy’s ex girlfriend. Hiding in the grocery store behind the organic tomatoes for fear of discovery and repercussion upon a possible glimpse of his ‘friends’, never attending work functions or events for the same reason. This created unnecessary shame within me and I began to question my self worth, as deep in my heart I knew that true love, the love I desired and deserved, feels neither shame with its origin nor mystery with its evolution. Love derives strength from admission and acknowledgement, with no need to perpetuate a hidden nature or intent. The final realization of this horrific compromise came a mere month before his return from a six month work trip, having notified me that he had to “work” on said date of return and therefore prohibiting me from meeting him after months of longing to see him. In truth he was afraid of his "buddies" seeing me there and thus with him. I saw through this ridiculous ploy and sadly though later thankfully realized that if this individual was willing to let this insecurity navigate his decision and thus override his desire to acknowledge our relationship, that his fear of reprisal proved more substantial than his feelings for me, and that if I accepted this story I would be embracing the ultimate compromise of my self worth. It was quite easy for me to depart the relationship after that. And he is and continues to be a good person. And I would like to think that he regrets this decision and the pain it caused me. The lesson I learned I will pass onto you dear reader. Don’t ever be anyone’s “dark secret”. Love warms in the sunshine and grows in the open air. Its true brevity eclipses any shame or dark intent, if it is genuine. If someone truly loves you, they will be proud to proclaim it loudly, be willing, nay desirous to acknowledge it and you at any given moment, and if it brings shame nor embarrassment then it is not worth the extent of those useless emotions. Love draws strength and realization from wonderful attention and acknowledgment and this perpetuates confidence and truth. This I know, for daily this is demonstrated to me by the one who is proud to love me.

Forgiveness

The old adage “when you point a finger, three are pointing back at you” never rang more loudly or more true than this month.
It seems that falling in love irreparably clouded my brain and my judgment, in so much that it precluded me from remembering that people are human and thus prone to error, myself included. Love does not provide a waiver, with its establishment, against imperfection. And as much as I want my partner to be perfect and never disappoint me, this is as assured as the snow dropping in San Diego, unrealistic and futile. I get wrapped up in my self righteous indignation over real or imagined slights that fate decides on a painful intervention, my conscience, which reels its ugly head much like a stinging scorpion. Deceiving as the initial bite does not seem fierce, a mere piercing of skin, but the poison infiltrates and once it reaches fruition, boy does it smart. Providing a well needed reminder that all armor has chinks, and your white knight upon the strongly referenced steed is not perfect, and will make mistakes which you should ultimately forgive and disregard. I ask myself, am I not forgiven when I am at fault? Especially from the one who endures my moodiness and sometimes judgment prone nature. The one who cooks my dinner, takes care of the house while I am traveling, and takes time every day to remind me that he loves me and is thinking of me, no matter how busy or overwhelmed he may be. . And this is where I hang my head in shame, for I am sometimes quick to anger, slow to forgive, and like the blasted proverbial elephant, I seem to remember and thus hold onto everything negative as my protective shield. This habit, though fruitless, is something developed and perfected throughout my single years, which consisted mainly of me giving what others willingly took, with not much return on my investment of time and attention. I am accustomed to disappointment and thus expect it. No excuse, but the gods truth. And how does that serve me-with a building of resentment and anger grown massive in proportion and hardly the equivalent to the incident that spurred its unnecessary and ridiculous growth. Thus causing misdirected anger over the most trivial of “sins”.
I shall try to remember that the one I love does not keep a tally of all my wrong doings, and there is no benefit wrought from harboring sadness and resentment. When a mistake is made, unless the gravity of the error causes permanent damage and destruction to trust, I shall endeavor to let it go and remember that I am never reminded of my flaws and always blessedly forgiven for my multitude of mistakes, with nary a mention of their occurrence by my other and “better” half.

The forgotten bloom

I get so caught up in the obsessive planning of my life and tasks related to my job that I often overlook the important things. Much like a single rose that lay blooming alongside the path, nearly trodden by a clumsy footing that is so involved in calculating and strategizing the tasks and trials to accomplish and overcome that the innocent rose is nearly obliterated, a wasted bloom, an overlooked glorious scent, with no regard for texture of petals or luminating luster to an otherwise grey and colorless landscape. The single flower that if one stopped to notice, admire, a mere second of effort in a self absorbed and singular pursuit would lend credence, inspiration and truth to what really matters in this fleeting existence.
The rose can be a lover, friend or family member that needs the smallest recognition or validation of importance, strength and truth, and the smallest effort would lend such light and sustenance to a blossom nearly wilting from thirst or buried with thorns.
Stop to smell these flowers, lend your light to wayward blooms that may seem to trip your footing for a perceived careless need that is truly a cry for attention. Don’t let the thorns of life so consume your thoughts that you overlook the love and need that lie wilting at your feet.
Today I was reminded of that which is truly important, my lover, my family, my friends, and I am ashamed for my selfish lack of recognition and humbled by the strength wrought from the simplest effort of release of what thought I needed to accomplish vs. what I really needed to do.Humanity, family, friends, loyalty and support are what you will remember at the end of your days, and how you showed your love and support to nurture the flowers in the proverbial garden of your life.

Hello to your new fairy tale

I recently moved in with my fiancee and his children after having lived alone for ten years, with solo establishment and absolute domain over my space, my time, control over every circumstance in my life down to the number of tissues used while blowing my nose. Relinquishing this control has been both an extremely gratifying and extremely difficult adjustment. Especially for a freakishly controlling and orderly person such as myself who has to re-hang a blouse if the collar is facing left rather than right . I find it hilariously ironic that finding your heart's desire and implementing a lifetime of wishes come true also requires compromise and a yielding of will that has governed your thoughts and decisions throughout your single life. No one, including myself, ever thought beyond the white knight, the stalwart steed and riding off into the proverbial sunset, that even fairly tales are grounded in reality and affect change with the implementaton. Part 2 of that happy ending is thinking of sunblock to protect against said sunset, a new pair of horseshoes for the steed as the poor horse is now carrying 2, a new drawbridge for the moat as the wood is rotting, algae treatment for the moat, and consideration for prince's hunting spaniels, queen mother and obnoxious falcon collection. Cinderella has lived alone in her own condo for so many years that she has forgotten how to funtion in a family unit, with the noise, laughter, fighting, frustration, tears, joy, i.e. all the wonderful components of a true family. Cinderella is about to become the stepmother and is a little terrified of the implications of this uncharted territory. However as we know, Cinderella is a trooper, vanquished an evil stepmother and won the love of a handsome prince in the space of a week. I think she will previal in this latest endeavor.
The other side of this sometimes terrifying coin is the introduction to solitude on behalf of individuals newly single, divorced, those who have spent years within the confines of relationship and/or family unit now relishing or dreading the prospect of living alone. No pitter patter of footsteps and exultant cry of a child joyously greeting the day, no task driven list of "to do" items provided by one manically organized spouse to another. Quiet mornings sleeping in, the only noise to greet you with the dawn's light the sound of coffee sputtering and the morning D.J. ringing in the week. And having spoken to individuals who went from one transition to another I find it quite amusing that the things I took for granted are the things these folks relish the most. From walking around the kitchen in your knickers (my British friend) for the first time as no one is around to claim that you shoudl be "dressed" around the children, to having the ability to run to Taco Bell at 2am on impulse as you have a sudden chalupa craving and no controlling husband to consider. These folks are enjoying the unknown freedoms life changes bring while adjusting to the challenges that are also presented.
I shall find joy in possibly guiding and influencing small children having none of my own, thankful for the opportunity to experience even the smallest element of parenting. And I shall wistfully bid farewell to my overabudance of alone tme, as too much solitude is unhealthy for anyone. Cinderella still has her own side of the moat for occasional "me time", with a blessed view of prince charming and his daughters playing on the castle ramparts, reminding her of her exciting new life and the challenges and joy it shall bring.

The grading system

If dating had a grading system, I would unfortunately average out to a straight C- for my cumulative experiences and subsequent behaviors and reactions to duress.
Early twenties-F-hormonal and lonely=settling for anything with a pair of new Z cavaricci’s and a pulse
Early thirties-C-less hormonal but still lonely=settling for less than I deserve, someone with an education and an income but less than stellar manners or consideration
Mid thirties-C-still hormonal but cognizant of respect and reciprocity-the balance and consideration required for a healthy relationship. Standards rose exponentially.
Latter thirties-B+-Embrace the need for reciprocity and respect and what I deserve. Grow tired of making things happen with disappointing results, give up desperate need to be in relationship, go on with my life and ultimately meet the man of my dreams
I never quite understood the benefits of what I considered cliché and outdated phrases, “thinking before I acted”, “quelling impulsive behavior”, “patience is a virtue” and “men love the chase”.
Naturally I acted before thinking, gave into all impulses, did not take a breath, reassess and let things happen as they should and finally, never quite let men chase me, which resulted in me chasing them out of the proverbial door and thus relationship.
Older, wiser, less reckless, more patience and discrimination as well as not having to make things happen and be the leader in relationships have resulted in me finding my heart’s desire and wonderful love.
I had a wonderful example throughout this turbulent, ecstatic, painful learning process. A dear friend with whom I have stayed close for nigh upon 18 years. Always cool, always confident, she has an aura of elusivity and discrimination that men find irresistible. She dated like a true professional, had swains lined up out the door and truly perfected the art of the chase by being her happy, smiling confident self, thus conquering hearts all over San Diego. .
If only I had followed suit and thus prevented my own debacles, but as they say “live and learn”. Some of us require a hard knocking with the reality hammer to learn the important lessons.
The irony of this is that while her “MO” has always been to take it slow, and date distinctively, juggling two or three men and enjoying the attention in pursuit of her perfect match, (much to our envy and chagrin, would she EVER choose) she has finally found her perfect match, who promptly informed her that while he really saw potential in her, he wanted to “take things slowly”. She acquiesced with a knowing smile, and responded in kind that she agreed with his distinction.
Not karmic debt but rather an even meeting of minds, unequivocal balance and opportunity for a slow and steady courtship.
And even if she assumed my former role of impatience and anxiety, she would never let anyone know-always maintaining a calm and cool aura. Brat that she is.
And I admire her immensely for this.

Love is...

I have found that my idea of love has dramatically changed and can only be expressed through these words-
Love is waking to a lazy smile and slightest caress of hand against hand as a heavy weight leaves the bed and sure, sweet breath whispers hello to start your day,
It shall never leave you truly alone, nor is it ever far away
Love is awakening to a blazing sun and a warm mug of coffee, with the right amount of creamer, steaming next to the bedside as someone is thinking of you, always thinking of you
Love is an opening of heart to expose raw vulnerability, the allowance of personality and perspective to shine through
Enabling you to crack your silly jokes, dance your silly dance, think your random, sometimes deep, sometimes silly, sometimes dark, foreboding thoughts, with acceptance
Love is understanding that people are multidimensional with layers exposed and like the onion can taste both bitter and sweet
Love is the alliance without necessary agreement, for in togetherness, in this union lay strength and not defeat
Love understands that one day you may smile, and one day you may rage, the moods may vacillate and shift but the loyalty and devotion remain constant despite the change
Love is making an effort to love friends and embrace family even if feigned show of interest, gritting of teeth and hindrance of opinion when the company is not to your choosing
Love is raw passion, staid emotion, with components of occasional boredom and solidarity
Love does not come from a checking account balance, investment portfolio-the superficial forces that use to drive me
Love is the completion of once bereft, of standing alongside when one was once left,
Alone
Love is the sweet, greeting welcome mat as you arrive home