Toads, Messiahs and Boobs-Tools for Dating Successfully

I’ve been negligent. I confess.

Catherine the Great is finished. My throat is still…. whatever (Dr. on Monday, details to follow). Life goes on. Abandoned the job hunt for life of beans and 3rd rate coffee. Contemplating side-job as Blow Job Queen of the Universe. Contacted by guy on Okcupid- his name? JOE. I’ve sworn off Joes and Mike/Michaels. Forever. I swear.

Where have I been? No place, sadly. But I think it’s time for me to take a road trip or two.

Where have I been? Well, I’ve started a new, exciting, explosively unique, and can’t-live-without-it blogging adventure, hoping to take my vast experiences with dating and do something productive with them. I don’t know that one can qualify as The Expert if still single? We’ll see. Certainly I can make a list of successes with almost as much ease as I can create a list of utter disasters, humorous nightmares and total lapses in judgement.

Let me tell you about the world of dating blogging. Oh My God. There are people out there passing themselves off as the Messiah(s). The laws of attractions, secrets of fulfillment and there’s even a blog/book/series based on kissing toads…each of her missives is cutely rendered with toad analogies.

Gag me with a spoon.

What I have yet to figure out is whether people have really been reduced to the level of wanting that kind of material? <Idiocracy, the movie> Are we/they buying into these marketing myths about attraction and hyped up “My Prince Will Come” crap? If so, I am doomed to failure NOW. I can’t write that kind of stuff. Won’t.

What I have learned in this short period of pimping myself as a dating expert:

• Quotes draw a lot of attention- the sappier the better. There are 5 million quotes on twitter. When I created a Pinterest account and ‘pinned’ a quote, it immediately got about 8 repins. WTF.
• Anyone can write an e-book and promote themselves poorly-ad nauseum.
• Women are still being urged to use their beauty and bodies to attract the perfect mate.
• Russians will follow you on Twitter.  I can’t follow them as I don’t read Russian.
• There are few people talking sex, trash and sexy lingerie for the over50 crowd. That’s the good news-my path is wide open!

Seriously. This is a little bit fun. A recent post I wrote got a little notice (and I mean little) and I’ve been asked to share it on a bigger blog. Guest posting is apparently the way to fame and money…. I could spend $12,000 to work with a famous blogger to learn how to do that and start making close to $100,000 a year as a blogger. If I drink the Kool-Aid. I think I’ll just keep tweeting cute quotes about life and love and girlie stuff and work my ass off trying to make connections. While avoiding toads.

Single and need some help? Drop a note to deliriouslydivineone@gmail.com and I’ll hook you up…with my new blog. (see, I’m doing my marketing!)

Sump Pumps, Tsarinas and All Things Exotic and Unknown

Sump Pump. The first words that popped up as I awoke this morning, unclenching my jaws and noting the light outside. Later than usual…a Sunday, 7 am. The Bob Edwards show on NPR and my mind fractured. I went to bed last night at a more reasonable hour,  after an hour of red wine and Catherine the Great. After a day of client work, at the computer, seeing the gorgeous spring unfolding around me.

It’s one of those weekends. I haven’t had one in quite a while. Friday I went for drinks with a girlfriend at our favorite bar. She went home to cook dinner for hubby, I moved to a cafe table in the bar and had dinner. Before vacating my barstool I talked briefly with a frequent bar patron–an acquaintance I hadn’t seen in months. He commented on my long hair, I commented on his, and then, surprisingly, he asked if I was dating anyone. He’s not the type to ask that kind of question. It threw me.  The official answer is no. I’m not seeing anyone. I get on my preferred online dating site, Okcupid, for a brief look and find nothing desirable within a 70 mile radius. Apparently no one finds me all that desirable either. I’m not even trying at this point.

 I’m having my dinner with a glass of wine as the bar fills. From my vantage point I can see people as they enter the restaurant as well. Everyone is paired off. Friday night is couples night. The couple at the far corner of the bar are acting like teens, not mature adults of 50+ years. I sit alone, in full view. It started the weekend off poorly. Two Cosmos. A glass of wine with dinner. Driving home I see couples, only couples. By 9 pm I’m in bed. You can’t think when you’re asleep.

Why was this Friday different from the last 20 Friday nights I spent all alone? Wednesday I discovered that the scar tissue in my esophagus has grown back, not as severely as last year but… And, I have esophageal dysmotility. That’s new. This is all similar to what happened last March. I don’t know what the motility thing really means. I watched on the screen as the liquid barium trickled down my throat, paused and then continued on. It should have been a steady flowing stream. I saw the little barium pill get stuck in my throat. Weird.

Shit happens. I’m tough. I’ve dealt with my own fair share of adversity-alone. And, it’s the alone part that triggers my ‘stuff’. Swanlady reminded me that in the midst of my broken foot trauma almost 2 years ago I had a partner and yet was essentially alone in dealing with that situation.

 A momentary blip on the why-am-I-all-alone and why-doesn’t-anyone-want-to-be-my-man screen. The solution? Well it’s not booze and hours of sleeping. I’ve always handled the issues in my family life, even when there was a spouse around. This is really minor stuff, this throat of mine. No hotdog eating contests for me. Another career opportunity squashed.

Catherine the Great didn’t like being alone either. For the very same reasons. She wanted stimulating conversation, the comfort of someone who cared (even if the care was paid for in rubles and jewels) and be a companion. She could bestow favors on her young men. She could demand they be at her side. Alas, those are things I can’t do.

Maybe Sump Pump is some magical hint from The Universe? I don’t have one in my house, nor do I need one (but yes, I know what they are and what they do, etc….). So, it must be something important, something that could change circumstances for me.

I think I’ll call my therapist.

Divine Timeline

Wednesday, March 21

6:10 am-   Alarm. Pee. Pills

6:20 am-  Feed Cats. Coffee.

8:20am- Blueberry skin wedged between teeth.

9:15am-  Coffee with colleague.

4:10pm- Email: “meeting over… on way home. See you soon?”

5pm-   Wine in hand. Back deck.

5:15pm-  Splinter in 3rd finger, right hand.

5:58pm-  Sperm in hair!

7:10pm- Topeka Steakhouse (quasi-business) Late. Breathless.

8:50pm- Hotel room. 6 Women. Wine. Merriment.

10:49pm-  Driving Home.

11:30pm-  Sleeping like a baby.

 

 

How Do You Feel About Women With Long Hair?

I’ve been letting my hair grow for quite a while. It’s now well past my shoulders. I don’t color it so there is a little gray…well, more than a little.

Here’s the story that leads up to my question.

I was preparing for a photo shoot recently and an ex-boyfriend suggested I either cut my hair or color it!!!  Gasp, I thought. It was a phone conversation so I couldn’t get the full nuanced reading on him. I don’t think this was really about me, not that it would matter, but rather ‘old’ women in general.  Joe. v2 sees graying long hair as something only the religious types wear. You know the ones- long dresses, little fabric caps on their heads.

I believe he thinks I will follow his suggestion…. Well!  Sputter… I Think Not.

But, it did get me thinking about the length of my hair. And, admittedly I went to the photo shoot with my hair up! Halfway through I took it down.

I love the way I look with long hair. I love putting it up in a sassy ponytail. I love braiding it and walking around in tattered jeans and birkenstocks, braless. I love being able to shape it into a twist on the top of my head.

I then asked another man with whom I have a romantic connection (Yes. There are dozens of them floating around) In person. With nothing riding on the answer–if you get my drift. His answer was vague. I think he covered it all  his ass with a they-all-look-good kind of answer!

Saturday I got an email from guy I had been talking to on OKCupid (until he confessed to being married and living in a completely different city than indicated by his profile). He had seen the new photo and felt the need to comment on my hair. I sprang my survey question on him… First he said no. Then (thinking there was still hope) he wrote back to say, “Funny. I like some long hair. Looks good on you. It is the face that makes the hair. “

Nice recovery.

 

So? What do you think about women over 50 with long hair?

OK, So I’m Wrong… I Can’t Give the Cat Away

Why I’ve decided to keep at least one of my cats? Well, for starters–he’s way more available than most of the men I meet.

He’s self-sufficient. Really, now many men do you know who can lick their own privates?

Martin, my cat, is highly intuitive. When I sit on the sofa, which is where I do “me” writing, he magically appears and gets quite close. Sometimes his head rests on my arm. It’s a tad intrusive, but then he rolls over and looks at me piercingly with his green eyes. And I feel loved.

Martin, unlike many men, doesn’t require much attention. He isn’t the whiny type…that’s his brother’s job. Martin eats when I tell him too, does his business discreetly out in the yard and comes promptly, happily, when I call him.

When I think about the things I want in a relationship, he seems to fit many of those, He’s fit and trim, well-groomed. A little younger and quite spry. I don’t think he’s cheating on me and he satisfies me, in his own way. Not jealous of my toys at all.

I’ve had trouble with the concept of knowing what I really want and sticking to that. I can’t really blame anyone but myself for failed relationships. Expectations need to be matched with realistic understandings of what I want and what others can offer me.

A man recently approached me with a vagueness that I let slide. He said things like “it’s complicated” and “but, we lead separate lives”. Each direct question got the “it’s complicated” response, paired with “we can talk about it”. Wait…we are talking about it, aren’t we?  I cut him loose before things got started. Martin never does that kind of double-talk.

Maybe everything I want is here at home. A little catnip, warmth in the middle of the night and a low-maintenance male in the house?

A Pocket Full of Roses

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.

Four Days Left! Are You Prepared for the Most Romantic Day of the Year?

Valentine’s Day is coming and this is your chance to make a big impression. It is a delightful way to say all the loving things you’ve saved up over the last 364 days.

Of course this is a ‘holiday’ that is mostly geared towards men and involves, nay, demands!,  the expenditure of money on a woman. For what? A day of forced excitement and cheerfulness? A romp in the sack that makes up for the rest of the year? Ha.

But, guys. If you play your cards right you might get your rewards too. Apparently, thanks to Tom Birdsey, March 14 is been declared as Steak and BJ Day. Yessiree..  Wouldn’t I love to be in charge of marketing for that one!  The male version of Valentine’s Day where loving women treat their man to a big juicy steak and an equally juicy blowjob. Wow. What’s not to like about that? Unless you’re a woman with a strong gag reflex, a vegetarian, or a woman who hates giving head. If your lady falls in one of those categories, my advice to you is buy a Whitman Sampler from CVS and call it a day!

But, wait!  Women have caught on. And, as we’re always nagging and bitching (except on Valentine’s Day) we’ve come up with a bit of a retort to your day of jollies! Please click and watch…it’s worth it and I can’t figure out how to embed it here. A Woman’s Perspective on Steak and BJ Day.

 

yeah, yeah…I’m just a bitchy old single woman. I know.