Pumpkins and Field Mice

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Lately  I am deep in contemplation about myself and less about others. (That's a good thing, right?) 


The trigger for this blog made a cameo appearance recently; the one who wanted to take things so slow that he disappeared. The same one that would take from me every bit of strength to just not think about. The one that had my stomach in knots and my heart on my sleeve for ages.    


But today my thoughts are about me, not him, about how I interpret the gaps in my life.


This was not the first time  post divorce that I fell in love and been left at midnight with nothing more than a pumpkin and some field mice. And it wasn't necessarily about unrequited love, but star crossed love. For as much as did work, there were too many forces, cosmic or otherwise, that didn't work. 


Of the loves that didn't pan out, I divide them into two types. The ones that could have loved back but just didn't want a relationship (thanks to all the ex wife bitches that spoiled it for the rest of us) and (drum roll please) the ones that were not worthy of my love. 


Yikes... The ones that were not worthy of my love....   I struggled with that one for a long time! And I finally recognized what was happening when I read the following passage. I mentioned it earlier but I think it is worth mentioning again. 


From Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert: "I have a tendency not only to see the best in everyone, but to assume that everyone is emotionally capable of reaching his highest potential. I have fallen in love... with the highest potential of a man... and then I have hung on to the relationship... waiting for the man to ascend to his own greatness."


Understanding that this was me, that this was MY LIFE, was  enough to cure me of heart ache past and prevent future fiascoes.   


So I am left time and time again only with the truly ridiculous situation of wanting a relationship with a man that is simply not interested in having a relationship with anyone.  (Please let's not go down that road of maybe it was just me he wasn't interested in...  Let's just assume I'm right on this one...).


I have many men in my life that have taken their place via different experiences. The   details don't matter. But one thing is for sure. I am outgrowing the willingness to have someone in my life that offers less than I want from him.


I am spending a great deal of time cleaning my space of the proverbial  cobwebs, and not least of all, not letting in new creepy crawlers.


Yet, now, here is this person who has returned to my life... albeit under a different status than he left it. Since his exit, or because of it, I have gained strength,and he is demoted to status of another man that I will like meeting from time to time over a drink or fattening food, and whatever will be will be. (In all fairness, if he wanted me in a relationship, I'd be there in a heart beat). 


On the one hand, I could say that it does make me a teeny bit sad that I have stopped needing his attention as much. Or, I could say thank you to him for vacating one more space in this vessel that is me, this vessel which deserves to be filled up with the goodness that the cosmos has to offer. 

At Least I Wasn't Dressed Yet

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And so the cycle continues... disappointment follows hope. The hope was barely a glimmer and the disappointment barely a sigh, and in the grand scheme of my entire life, this moment will be forgotten.

But while I'm in it, it sucks.

It's such a small thing. Just a broken date. And probably just postponed. He even gave me a day's notice, as opposed to other maniacs who just left me all dressed up with no place to go.

Honestly, I've had worse disappointments; like when all of the clothes in my closet shrunk, and when I suffered a wax that no one saw but my gynecologist.

But why is it that when men disappoint, it just feels different?

It's not a broken heart, just a broken date. But nonetheless, another reinforcement of the cycle of hope and disappointment that taunts me, that threatens my equilibrium.

A few months ago, this setback would have sent me into a menage a trois with Ben and Jerry. Today I am thinking that I still might make it to the gym. 

Good for me.
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Stay Tuned for the Recap

On this the occasion of over 1000 hits on my blog, I feel compelled to recap where we've been, where we are, and where we are headed (to be understood as the royal "we" as in "we are not amused". )

In just over 3 months and just shy of two dozen posts, I have shared the emotions that accompany my hope of meeting Mr. Right and the inherent disappointments that give meaning to the expression "it's a jungle out there."

As I look back, I am astounded by the sheer intensity of my responses. Among other things, I whined at another birthday, I used the word abyss a lot, I compared dating to smoking,  I stopped listening to music and I cursed mornings.

Albeit not fun, given the same onslaught of disappointments, I am sure that my response today would not reach the proportions of the last few months. 

Of course there is a fine line between a proportional response and apathy. And I know that it is that very disproportionate intensity which liberated my creativity. Those mercurial moods will undoubtedly visit me again and I have learned to accept it as a part of my life.

But for now, I don't know if my chakras are unblocked, if the planets are aligned, or if the drugs have kicked in, but my responses to the same situations seem so much less volatile than they were.

And maybe in that shanti, in that groundedness, in that magical place of "when you least expect it" my life will soar.

Armed with the astounding positive feedback from these last three months of cathartic reflection, and with a laugh at myself (lest someone laugh at me first) I'll continue to reflect on my experiences.

As it turns out, I have a lot in common with a lot of women. And they are not all divorced and not all over 50.. and a good many of them can still wear horizontal stripes.

Lowering the Bar?

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I met someone nice today.
No. Let me re-phrase that. I MAY have met someone nice today.

No. Let's be honest... I had a chat with someone on messenger and he seemed literate and not psychotic.

You'd think I have lowered the bar but it's not my fault. The nice guys are still nice,  but the creeps are creepier. They lurk in the corners of the dating sites, drawing you in with their charm, and then wham, they hit you with their creepiness.

But what choices do I have?

Supermarkets?
Men in supermarkets are a far cry from being single.... they have been sent there by their wives with long shopping lists in the hopes that they - the wives - can have an hour of peace of quiet. But then they -the men - stand helpless at the shelves, list in one hand cell phone in the other, receiving new orders from central command.

Singles Bars?
Thank you no.  These are the realm of the mono-syllabic crowd, too young to get the reference to Sgt. Pepper.

I've already discussed the difficulties of meeting men at the pool, and I have yet to gracefully spill the contents of my purse and be rescued by a melancholy Hollywood actor just waiting for a girl like me. (Although I have fallen flat on my face for no apparent reason in front of my favorite ice cream place).

So, until that time that I am introduced to a friend of a friend, I will keep my creep-detectors honed and persevere in that netherworld of online dating.
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Does This Spandex come in an Extra Large?

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I have stopped obsessing about men. Now I can concentrate on getting into physical shape.(I'll make 'em really sorry they didn't stick around... )

Unfortunately, clubs for getting into shape are the domain of those in shape already; the playgroud of glistening ab'd men that work out in front of mirrors, and perky women in spandex.

And then I walk in. With my trusty sweatpants and long t-shirt (please let this be the t-shirt without the stains on it, I whisper to myself). 

I come straight from work, after a 9 or 10 hour day to do my laps, maybe test the treadmill, maybe join the yoga class and last but not least, to meet people.

I thought it might be a nice place to meet men. But how do you start up a conversation with a guy at a pool? "Hi... I really like your speedo."

All of that said and done, I'm really glad I joined this pool. The other place I was going to started feeling like a lot of Muscovites vacationing on the Black Sea.  

All I really wanted was to join a pool, but I went the whole route and joined a country club.

I'm glad I did.

And I'll talk to the men after they change out of their Speedos and into something less distracting.
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