Sorry, ya’ll… not that anyone has checked in to see I was alive or had run off with a younger man.
Life just gets in the way. But, that’s my next blog.
I found my newest best-est friends today. Not sure they know that quite yet. The Midlife Gals. Oh God! Funny.
Here’s a sampling.
I’ll be back. Soon.
This is where you tell me you missed me and can’t imagine life without me. And, send money- deliriouslydivineone@gmail.com
Bonus video!
In a cleaning frenzy yesterday while trying to fend off “a mood” I found these roses. A crumbling reminder of yet another relationship that wasn’t destined to be. I’m not sure why I kept these…. actually I forgot they were here. They’re on the way to the trashcan- the vision of them triggered the memory of all the foolish mistakes I’ve made in my dating life!
I’ve been dating on and off for 10+ years now. The roses–a 3 year relationship that I was so sure was going to be “IT”. He’s a nice guy and it wasn’t his fault. It was me. I sacrificed what I knew I wanted for comfort and predictability. The idea that a man really cared about me, even when the feeling wasn’t mutual. More than once I’ve allowed myself be swept up knowing deep down that it’s not really what I want. Today? I am clear on what my old habits and patterns are–and most of the time I make healthier choices.
Friday night an old boyfriend hit up on me–my fault for engaging in IM with him. Fool. His girlfriend is sick, in cancer treatments and he’s hitting up on me. Earlier in the week a man I can not remember contacting or meeting wrote me. He’s on deployment but wants to see me when he gets back (he’s now based here in my town) in June. I have no earthly idea who he is. I don’t remember talking to him, but clearly I did. I have no interest but have been unable to directly say that. I told him I was seeing someone but he thinks that emailing wouldn’t be an issue and asked for a photo. I’ve avoid a response so far.
So, there are two men who think about me and after some period of time still want a connection? I’m flattered, on some level, but….
It’s that time of year again. And, though I don’t really buy into the Valentine’s Day hype, it does have the effect of making me feel somewhat less than whole because I haven’t found that magical Mr. Right. I’ve allowed myself to be sucked into the romantic fairytale of our culture. Again and again. I could rerun last year’s post, nothing has changed and I actually had lobster mac and cheese for dinner Saturday night…..with my mother.
When one gets stuck in that Princess-Prince thing, it’s just a small step to pondering, albeit irrationally, what is wrong with yourself. That’s where the dating sites and self-help books come in. It’s a vicious marketing nightmare. Lose 10 lbs, buy a push-up bra, act prettier, be less assertive, try harder…… You get the point. I’m not doing that, but I used to.
What I am doing this pretty Monday morning is wondering when I’m going to start acting on my intuition, choosing the right path. And reminding myself to celebrate every day as if I am the love of my life.
In past years I have spent time thinking about the ending year and planning how to approach the new year–not necessarily with resolutions, more like inspirations for a more satisfying new year. That process hasn’t happened yet and I feel adrift in a sea of resolutions and exciting prognostications for 2012.
Consequently, I feel inadequate and ill-prepared for 2012. So, let me offer up a few quick statements as a substitute for deep thinking and naval (Oops, as a dear reader noted, that should be “navel”) gazing. In 2012 I resolve to:
And, last but not least…..enjoy more balls–’cause they might not be here for much longer!
What about you?
I’ve been absent from the blog world of late… with nothing appropriately sexy to share with you, my dear readers, I just retreated. I’ve got nothing for you now, either but…..
I’m writing on Christmas afternoon… my Christmas starts on Monday afternoon, so this is just another Sunday for me. Sorta. I’ve been listening to David Sedaris today–the Santaland Diaries…what a hoot. I’m wondering if there is a way for me to channel a little of his wicked humor in my writing? I have enough stories to share some wickedly funny episodes and still maintain a straight non-fiction approach, which is kinda sad really.
I have a male friend, one I dated briefly in late spring. We’re talking again and he momentarily suggested we write together. I hesitated, then said yes and then, he changed his mind! It was probably the best thing that’s happened to my personal writing in over a year. I’m all jazzed up about this now.
Why?
I’ve come to realize that I need structure. Outlines, plans, lists, and an overall focus for me to stay on task. The plan is to begin as soon as holidays are over and the grandkids are gone. I will treat the book as a part-time job. And, I will rely on my friend to listen, offer suggestions and support and a bit of editorial advice, mixed in with a little unsolicited editorializing (he can’t help himself and I can tell him to piss off as needed) from time to time.
I am excited and scared. I’m giving myself the month of January to get really focused and write. By the end of the month I hope to have given shape to what I’ve previously written with a clear idea of what type of book. I should have enough material to consider approaching an agent by that point… hopefully!
So, I’ll be blogging and maybe I’ll offer up tidbits here and there. I may need additional research material….so if you have some single friends, pass along my link!
Footnote: I’ve been writing stories about my online dating episodes on and off for over 5 years now. Last year I semi-started over and have over 30,000 words I think. I just couldn’t figure out how to proceed and get past my misgivings about going public with my sex life and zany episodes in and out of the bedroom.
I love the phrase What The Fuck. It was designed for me. Because I appear to be in What the Fuck Land-every day now. Yet, I’m still smiling so there is a Not What The Fuck God out there somewhere.
As you recall things were going awry in my world. I feared that someone had put a voodoo curse on me. The fuel tank ran dry-I got 150 gallons and I’m able to use heat for the moment. The coffeepot finally died and I replaced it with a cheapo Krups ($39.99 after rebate) which I hate-it is the loudest coffee pot I’ve ever heard/seen. The computer issue which was really a bad mouse? I bought the new computer out of frustration.
Then it started again. Thanksgiving weekend, Saturday morning to be more precise, the Comcast modem died. Died. The Comcast tech was very nice and scheduled a service call for Sunday morning between 8:30 and 11. No problem-they were, after all, giving me a new modem and no service fee. So when the modem rose from the dead Saturday night I still insisted on a new one and now things are groovy.
But, only for a split second. My NEW computer started acting up and on Wednesday morning it died! Yes, the computer I bought on Nov. 12 died on Nov. 30. When the nice but simple-minded customer service dude at Best Buy asked if I planned to buy a new computer after my refund I nearly went ballistic. “No, I’m not buying a new computer, you’re going to go get another one just like this one and bring it to me. Then you’re going to take them both to the Geek Squad and have all the data transferred from the old, new computer to the new new one.” He started with those calming techniques people use with postal Postal workers. We’re all good now, though the data transfer and resetting up of the new new computer took hours.
But, wait.. That in and of itself surely doesn’t call for an exorcist?
Friday night I get home from work, open mail to find a letter from BLUE CROSS BLUE SHIELD/ANTHEM saying that my rate is changing, though their “...focus everyday is on improving the lives of the people we serve.…” RIGHT. My $713 a month will now be $834 a month starting Jan. 1. They devoted an additional page to talking about health care reform and why any change on my part to allow me to live and eat and buy gas would jeopardize my status with healthcare reform. Reads more like a threat to me. Of course there is the whole debate on whether health care reform will survive the debacle we call politics. And heavens, lets not get started on how this marvelous country of ours can’t manage to feed the poor or provide adequate, reasonably priced healthcare.
That was Friday night. Saturday afternoon’s mail includes a letter from my life insurance people. Yep! Rate increase due to a renewal based on my age. Deep breaths. Though I actually have to chuckle at the spate of shit coming my way. I’m having dinner with a friend so I escape the Demon house for a few hours. Arriving home at 10:30 PM, I hit the garage door opener as I fly in the drive. Yep. It’s broken, door won’t open, though track makes an attempt to move. To my fairly experienced eye I can’t see any obvious issues I might address. Can’t afford a service call quite yet so for now: Car-driveway. Garage-empty.
Sunday was a day of rest, even for the devil. And, so far Monday is going smoothly. Of course it’s only 7:30 AM. Not touching the television as I think we have a problem there, but I can’t drink this early in the day so I will put that out of my mind.
Swanlady suggests I find a good man who is a ‘fix-it-upper’. I remind her that I dated one or two or fifty of those types and the sliding door off of the kitchen still doesn’t work. Only male-related solutions I can come up with right now?
1. Offer to ‘do’ the service guy(s).
2. Breakdown and date some wealthy old 75-80 year old. I’d have to ‘do’ him too, I’m sure.
If you know a good Exorcist call me.
I took a spontaneous photo the other day-no makeup, harsh lighting and a close-up with my cell phone camera. It wasn’t pretty. My long hair made my face look longer and old. I could see the little sags in my neck and the gravity in the skin on my face. Now, normally I’m not quite that harsh about myself, though admittedly, I’m not usually looking all that closely.
A younger man asked me recently for a photo. I sent one that was just me on a normal day… hair up and a bit wild, eyes squinting and a big smile as I held my, now 3 year old, granddaughter. That’s the real me on Mother’s Day 2011. Happy and smiling, content being the grandmother, and sassy enough looking to feel comfortable acknowledging my 57 years. The hair’s greying and I really don’t care. I actually like it and think it’s attractive.
The thing is, this guy has this fantasy about me and I have harbored thoughts about what it might be like to have a fun night with a younger man. Well, really.. I’m not the normal rocking hot ‘girl’ he prefers. And, he’s not the normal type for me, either. I know what I want. For a moment I was tempted to doll up (which I do upon occasion) and have a sexy photo made of myself. I haven’t yet.
What is sexy at this age? I think sexy is defined as a woman who’s comfortable with her own sexuality and expresses it in a way that is natural for her. In my case, it’s not getting made up and making myself out to be something different. I do love to dress up and I have some lovely clothes, some of which show off my assets quite nicely. And, if you happen to catch me in one of those moods, or I’m attending a dressier affair you’ll see me with a little more polish. And, I’ll still look close to my age.
Sexy at this age? It’s a state of mind. Right now I’m wearing my favorite black leggings…with 3 large holes and sagging elastic in the waist. Braless and in a baggy workout top. How do I feel? Vibrant, alive, and 2 beats away from being at my sexiest-alone at home on a Sunday night.
There are too many myths and cultural dictates about what defines sexy and it rarely includes women over the age of 35, and that may be stretching it.
“They” got it wrong.
It’s time for this 57 year old grandma to get hip! I got the job! It’s not as much work, yet, as I had hoped. But. Out of 250ish applicants they chose 5. I’m one of those five. I will be writing a weekly blog for a new men’s product, targeted to 18-35 year old men. Yikes! My new boss is 27. He admitted last week that he wondered about my ability to connect with his target audience, given my age. I had to go through 3 rounds of interview type questions and writings to get this gig. It’s much better pay than the writing I did for a boomer site. And, the potential for more work and even a ‘job’ with the company is a future possibility.
They plan to whittle the list of writers down, based on reader engagement and traffic, so I may be calling on some of you to help me out. One of my girlfriends offered to read and comment..but I think they’re more interested in me bringing in a younger crowd, preferably men.
This will require some research. The writing is mostly about men and self-image and, what every man wants to know, how to get the girl! Or woman. I am thinking of late night hangouts where I can observe my prey. Maybe even a date? Whatcha think? I could contemplate an evening out with a 35 year old. Question is whether he’d be interested in me?
If you have any suggestions on where or how to research the mindset of a young adult male let me know. I’m already starting to read Detail, Men’s Health and Men’s Journal. Phat, isn’t it!
Tomorrow I turn 57 years old. And, even though I’ve had a few dates with these 3 men I’m spending the evening by myself. I dropped a vague hint about the upcoming day to one of the guys, last week… he either chose to ignore or failed to pick up-either way he’s about to be ‘out’ for other reasons. And, really I just don’t want to go out. I’ll have to tell my mom no thanks to her invite as well…that will be the challenging one. I’m not sure she’ll understand my wish for a quiet, non-event evening.
I plan to enjoy a quiet evening at home with a simple home-cooked meal of crab cakes, fettucine alfredo and a nice salad or fresh asparagus. And a bottle of dry rose wine. I’ve got a movie on the way for entertainment. It feels like the perfect evening for me. I’m not ignoring the passage of time but I’m not feeling any impetus to recognize the day either. I’m content with my age, how I look and what life is all about at this stage.
We’d all know I was lying if I said I was 100% happy with my single status. A good seduction would be nice- some sheet ripping sex to quote “The T” (see yesterday’s post comments). But, no sense in trying to create that which isn’t happening at the moment. In past years I’ve bemoaned my single status and on one birthday felt that funk of aging combined with a feeling of inadequacy at being single. No longer.
I’m thankful to be alive and in good health, to have only slightly sagging boobs and attractively graying hair. Just a few age spots on the hands and very few wrinkles for my age. The ankles are still quite shapely and I manage quite well all alone. My roof doesn’t leak and my sons are doing quite well. This upcoming year bodes well. I can raise a celebratory glass to that all by myself.
I see a woman for occasional therapy, or professional coaching or music-guided meditation….depending on the week. Last week I was blathering on about some of my accomplishments in the dating world – letting go of the Let’s Not Be Monogamous Guy, declining a offer to have my engine serviced and other sundry affirming choices I’d made. We all know that I’m a weakling when it comes to men-the more intelligent and sensuous the less capable I am of holding my ground.
Well, that conversation led me to talk about my move in 1999 from a place where I’d established a wonderful network of friends, a home I loved and kept up, cooking, gardening and entertaining. All of which completely disappeared when I moved to my present location and were made more remote in the process of my decision to separate from and divorce my ailing husband of 26 years.
What I realized was that all the things I’d loved doing, and excelled at, had been jumbled together with Marriage and Wife and Mother. There was Career and Politics too, but not as relevant here. And without that structure, even of a bad marriage- a marriage where we went our separate ways more often than not, I let go of all the things I enjoyed doing and I somehow decided that getting a Man back into the picture would complete me.
It was one of those ah-ha moments where you want to yell out loud, “Are You F*%#ing Kidding Me?” Really. None of things I loved doing and am good at, had anything to do with the ex. And, it’s not like I lost my cooking skills or anything else in that divorce. But, why did I think that finding a man would make it better? What happens when I’ve been in hunt mode is that I put my own stuff to the side.
It was a major revelation and a funny one, in some ways. I can already see how it’s playing out in my daily life right now. I’ve done some work outside and I’m gearing up to start painting the kitchen. I’ve found a book group and made other steps to accept my single status and do things all by myself! I can’t say that I’ll give up looking for that one right man. I like men too much and I know that I want a man in my life. But maybe I’ll start looking at men with a more critical eye… and see if they can really measure up to what I want, as opposed to me fitting into their mold.
