My Badge

2013 didn't start for me on the 1st.  It started for me a few days later on the 25th, when on my birthday I made the decision to have the "Where is this going?" conversation. Why?  Because it's always good to mar the only day of the whole year dedicated to you by hearing the words, "I love you, but...". Seriously though, it was because I was tired of running. Tired of hiding.  It was at that point that I knew this was going to be a year of tremendous change for me. Not only was I going to face relationships head on, I was going to face some tough financial issues that I had been pretending weren't there.  Did you know that putting bills in a blue folder and tucking said folder under the bed does not magically pay those bills (Hmmm, who knew?)   I wish I could say it's been like ripping off a bandage, but it has really been more like pouring vinegar in an open wound several times through out the year. There are many that will say that I have much to be thankful for, and I am one of those.  I've spent the whole year reminding myself how truly blessed I am to have a roof over my head, a job I like, friends and family I love, and after nearly 50 lbs lost and  breast cancer scare this year, my health. Because my world is so full of blessings I feel horrible complaining. I am also embarrassed to admit that I have made some bad decisions that contributed to the financial issues, so I just pretend it's alright. Plus, no one wants to be around a Negative Nelly!   And then I'm angry. I tell people all the time to be sad, to feel their emotions. Why is it not okay for me to own my sadness and wear it as a badge like so many other people do - The "I've been through something" or  "I had a rough year" badge. So I acknowledge that shit could be worse and I'm sure that some may call this my pity party, but it's my badge.  Because I don't wear my sadness on my sleeve, I'll leave it here on this page. 

Birthday break-up wasn't fun, but I wasn't devastated. In fact I didn't truly mourn the loss of the relationship until a few months ago. There were the initial tears, and rehashing conversations and then there was the casual relationship we fell back into when ever he was back from his travels.  But each time he was back in town we felt further apart and I could see our worlds shifting in opposite directions.  When I had my breast cancer scare, I felt how much he cared for me, but ultimately it was something that I would face alone.  I told myself I wasn't scared after my first appointment because all signs pointed to it being fine, but waiting for that biopsy result was terrifying.  Some of my family knew, but my nephew was in the hospital for his 3rd open heart surgery so I pretended I wasn't terrified and put on my brave face. That's what I do. I put on a brave face and I make jokes.  After all, someone always has it worse then you right?  Thankfully it turned out fine as did my nephews 41 day stay in the ICU. 

My nephew's surgery forced me to face a scary reality.  Although we do not know that his condition is hereditary, he is the 2nd generation with a heart condition in our family.   At my age, if I choose to have children I'm already considered higher risk. After seeing my nephew with tubes everywhere, hooked up to so many machines and in so much pain I had the realization that if there is a chance that knowingly I would bring a child into the world that could have similar heart defect, I don't know if I can do it.  Not because I can't handle it.  Seeing my sister's strength showed me that a parent does what needs to be done. And not because my nephew isn't a gift.  However, there is a harsh reality to my beautiful nephew's life, and in 3 years has experienced a ridiculous amount of suffering.  I have always believed that I would have a baby.  Always. Now, after seeing my nephew's pain, coupled with the fact that I'm considered higher risk at my age, I'm trying to make my peace with what will likely be a childless existence. And yes, I know there is adoption, but guess what, I want to be sad about this.  I want to be sad that I may potentially make the decision to not carry a child.  Screw you heredity. 

Trying to make a smooth transition into the most painful and most recent loss is impossible.  I'm sobbing as I try to type this because it's still so raw.  Any of you who have known me for a long time, know that I have never been a pet lover.  They shed, they slobber, they act unpredictably and they are so needy!  I just didn't get it. I didn't get it until a 4 week old ball of fluff showed up on my desk 5 years ago. Bentley, as he came to be known the day he came home with me 6 weeks later, was mine the moment I held him.  It's true what they say; they pick you. He fell asleep on my chest and although I wasn't in the market for something that would become completely dependent on me, I was sold.  My mom told me recently that when she met him, the 2nd day he was home with me, that she thought we just fit. She said my 4 legged furbaby even walked like me. Now that I think about that statement, she implied I waddle like a 10 week old puppy, but you get what I'm saying.  He was mine and I was his. So to say that making the decision to end his life was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, well that's an understatement. And before people start saying, "It's not like he was a person.", just stop.  If he was a person he would still be alive today because there would be better resources available to help pay for a surgery that costs as much as a damn Kia Rio.  Yes, I know that's a ridiculous amount for a 20lb dog, but if I could have afforded it, I would have done it. I'm irrationally angry that there was someone out there that could have paid for it and he didn't, but mostly it kills me that my poor financial choices from years ago, came full circle to bite me in the ass and cost me the one thing in the world I loved more than anything.  I'm wracked with guilt every day and overwhelmed with sadness because the only way I could end his suffering was to end his life. So don't tell me, it's not like he was a person.  He was my solace when I was broken and he was my joy every time I walked in the house.  Now I have no solace.  I have no joy. And I have the heavy weight of my decision forever on my shoulders.

So, that's it.  Maybe my next writing attempt will be to tell you how much I've learned from this shit show of a year. How even though I've lost, I've gained.  Right now though, I'm just not ready to look on the bright side.  Right now I just need to give myself permission to be sad. 

That Girl Believes in Santa Claus

So I have this friend... she loves sundresses, I Love Lucy re-runs and things that glitter and sparkle. Yes there is a diamond engagement ring on her vision board, and no you are not surprised she has vision board.  She wears flowers in her hair when it's cloudy and fedoras in the pool, and thinks a hotel room without a quality soaking tub is a complete waste of money. She makes friends with strangers wherever we go. Which as you can imagine is beyond annoying for me because I really only like about 14 people in the world, period. She can find joy in the silence of snow and happiness in the spring rain. She cries at sappy movies, likes self help books, mantras and isn't afraid to act a fool.  She's also a believer. She believes in magic and love and yes, probably Santa Claus. Now, I know there are a lot of people out there who when asked, say they believe in true love, but she, well she shouts it from the roof top.  She believes in fairy tales, in happy endings and other things most of us don't have the courage to admit we still want.  She feels emotions and  jumps into love with an intensity that terrifies me.  And it's not as if  her life has been untouched by sadness, or pain.  She's been let down by more than one person and faced just as much heartbreak, or more than the rest of us.  Yet still she believes. I am constantly amazed by her resilience, scared to death of the risks she takes with her heart, and envious of her bravery.  I'm much more cautious, you see. I am a realist.  Happily ever after happens in the movies and in books and possibly to people who don't know that something better could really be out there so they just THINK they've found it.  But, I'm smarter than that, and obviously a bit cynical.  No one is going to pull one over on me! I see the end before it even starts and that keeps me from getting hurt. Life is not a fairy tale and I stopped believing in Santa when I was 9. I am not a believer.  But I secretly want to be. I want to believe that some people get real happy endings, and that you don't have to settle. I want to believe in holding hands when I'm 80 with someone who still sees me as the woman of his dreams. I want to believe if I really try, if  I really put myself out there, fairy tales are possible.  But, I just don't think I'm that brave anymore.

So here's to my friend and the rest of you rainbow chasers; may you catch your Leprechaun, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus...Mr. Right and live Happily Ever After!  And to quote a band that we can all agree has a song for every occasion.."Don't Stop Believin".

Scar Tissue

I know. I've been seriously negligent in my blogging duties. It is probably because the whole dating experiment didn't exactly go as planned.  There was the aforementioned psycho and then there was a whole lot of nothing. Well, interject the reappearance of a couple of ex-boyfriends that show up periodically like cold sore before a first date; but for the most part, nothing. Perhaps it was because I was a little unnerved by bachelor #1, but really I think my failed attempts in the world of on line dating can be summed up in two words. Scar tissue. Yes, I'm going to elaborate. Why the hell else would I be writing?

Do you know how many single girlfriends I have over 30?  Not even over 30, but over 35? More than I ever thought I would. And do you know how many I would say are an undeniable catch? Every single one of them.  I know some phenomenal women. They are beautiful, funny, intelligent, successful, strong and yes, a little bit damaged. Biologically, I don't think we were meant to be alone for this long.  Women's lib, God bless it, has afforded us the luxury of choices, and experiences and unlimited options.  It's a wonderful world we live in.  But, it can be lonely.  And those experiences and choices don't always make for happy endings.  In fact, I think what has made us so strong is the starting over, the rebuilding that we have to do after every failed attempt at redefining happily ever after. Despite our toughness we still fall victim to emotional bullets. The failed relationships, the first time you hear a family member say "IF you have have kids" instead of "WHEN you have kids", the well meaning friends who tell you that you "haven't changed a bit" as they plan their next family vacation are gut shots. But we sew up our wounds and they heal. Scar tissue.  The next time, it hurts less. The bullet doesn't quite hit it's mark. You don't cry when a relationship ends, the comments roll off your back and the thought of not being a mom doesn't give you an anxiety attack anymore.  Scar tissue.  The problem is, I'm starting to think scar tissue doesn't just keep out the pain.  It doesn't let the good in either.

I can barely remember the last time I was twitterpated. I mean truly stupid about someone. I used to love that silly, smitten feeling.  Who doesn't? At the same time, it's been just as long since I've felt that gut wrenching pain that comes form letting go of a person, or what you thought that person represented. I'm not numb, but I'm not quit vulnerable anymore. So maybe this whole dating experiment was destined to fail. How are you supposed to find love when you are too war weary and hardened to be open to the joys and pains you might experience in the falling? 

In writing this, I don't want you to think that I'm saying  my single sisters of a certain age and I are unhappy. We have each other, good food, good times and more importantly, good wine. Nor should you believe we have given up on our version of the fairy tale.  But behind these successful confident woman who can clearly take care of themselves are battle hardened vets. Tough, scarred and more than a little bit jaded, but still waiting for a cupid packing enough heat to score more than a flesh wound.

Top Ways To Tell Your Date is Bat Shit Crazy!

First of all, let me preface this entry with the following statements.  I am attracted to emotionally damaged men.  It takes a lot, and I mean a lot to make me think you are bat shit crazy. As my good friend Julie said, "Crazy we can handle.  Throw in the bat shit and that's over the top." But for all my single pals out there, here are some clear indicators!

1. He becomes whiney and petulant when you suggest that you would like to continue to email/text/talk on the phone for another week before meeting and uses false flattery to coax you into date #1.  FYI, Eharmony warns against people who push you into meeting too soon, however, in need of an ego boost, I agreed to meet up.

2. You are deliberately evasive about what neighborhood you live in or where exactly you work.  You can't exactly put your finger on why, but it just seems like a safe bet.

3. He informs you that his most recent long term relationship ended in restraining orders.

4. He sees nothing wrong with sharing #3 with you.

5. After the date, that went extremely well despite the oversharing about the restraining orders, he proceeds to send texts that border on harrassing in their content and frequency.  For example, asking you to come over approximately 23 times in a 2 hour period.

6.  When told that the texts are making you uncomfortable he gets hostile and defensive.

7. The texts begin again the next day as if he doesn't remember the previous conversation.

8.  He suggests you need a drink and you tell him you only like to drink once or twice a week.  He says he drinks more than that. Oh yes, there was that shot of whiskey with his pasta at dinner, in additon to the 5 beers. You ask how much more, only to realize he has been drinking every day since you have started speaking to him.  This may explain why he doesn't remember the previous request to stop texting things that make you uncomfortable.

9.  You recall that he has told you that he's taking not 1, not 2, not 3, not 4 but 5 different medications that work to elevate his mood, eleviate anxiety and help him sleep.  Good idea to mix those with alcohol. I'm sure there are no adverse side effects from that.

10. Because you really, really want to believe the best and he does have some other really great qualities, but most importantly because you don't want to admit you picked Mr. Wacko, you once again tell him that you really are interested in getting to know him more but you need things to slow down and the tone of his texts need to change.  He responds with Fuck Off.  You're Mean.

And that my friends is how you can tell your date is Bat Shit Crazy.

Doing it the .com way....

Being 36 and single is easy. I like not having anyone to answer to.  I like being able to go where I want and not having to clear it with someone else.  I have my own money and I don't need yours. I like having the whole couch to myself and the remote too. I like folding my clothes 2 days after I get them out of the dryer. My dog sleeps on my bed.  Deal with it.  And I like eating an artichoke for dinner and ice cream for breakfast.  In hindsight, the ice cream for breakfast probably contributed to the 30lb weight gain so that was a mistake on my part, however that's a different blog topic. Anyway, I digress. Like I said, being alone is easy for me.  However, I've always thought that I would be a mom.  And for me being a mom means finding that one person that I want to start a family with. Yes, I know I can have a baby on my own.  Many women out there do.  I'm not sure I'm that woman though. So here I sit, someone who has perfected the art not needing anyone (like many of my 30 something counter parts) but quickly realizing that maybe I need to get serious about this.  So, what's a woman to do that is too old for the bar scene, and works 50 hours a week? Online dating of course!
This isn't the first time I've gone this route.  And interestingly enough, I was pretty successful at it.  I make a pretty decent first impression, I have no problem letting someone buy me dinner or drinks, and usually I got 2nd, 3rd, 4th or even a short term relationship out of the deal.  However, that was 4 years ago. I'm older now.  At least that's what EHarmony is telling me. Because even though I've adjusted my criteria, I'm still getting paired with men 10 to 12 years my senior.   They say they also take level of attractiveness into consideration when creating matches,  and even though I know that I have let some breakfast ice cream go to my thighs, and middle, I still think I'm pretty decent looking. EHarmony apparently does not share the view that I am still an attractive woman though because I have so far been paired with a pedophile looking/mustache wearing 50 year old, and a guy that can only be described as looking like Mary's retarded brother in the movie Something about Mary. And my matches are so intense. One of the questions is to name 3 things you are most thankful for.  I too am thankful for my vision so that I can take in a beautiful sunset and my hearing so that I can hear the sound of children laughing, but SERIOUSLY!?  I said white out.  You know why, because I freakin love white out! And because if you can't laugh at something like that, I don't want to date you!
Although EHarmony is proving to be a bit much for me, I'm not giving up! I'm actually just thinking it's time to play the odds so to speak and really put myself out there.  I've already posted on Match.com and I'm looking at a few others too. My dating debacles have been entertaining my married and single friends for years.  Last years relationship with my own personal Nigerian email scam being a prime example, as is the risotto incident of 2010. So I'm going to allow those of you who are interested share in the highs, the lows, the mustaches, the greasy gold chain wearing euro trash (that was today's Match.com selection) and maybe if I'm lucky we can find the man of my dreams.