A Play in Three Acts

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Scene 1: Olden Times (circa before internet).

• Girl holds out hope for a week that Boy from blind date arranged by meddling aunts is interested. 
• Boy not calling.
• Girl calls Boy.
• Boy not answering. 
• Girl spends additional week justifying why. 
• Girl runs out of justifications.
• One ton of bricks falls on girls head.
• Boy makes his point that he is not interested.
• Girl goes on with her life. 
• Disappointment Factor: 1 Boy over Two Weeks

Scene 2: Present Day.

• Girl drinks coffee in front of computer.
• Girl logs onto 5 internet dating sites. 
• Girl sends messages to 7 attractive Boys.
• Girl makes second cup of coffee.
• Girl notices that 7 Boys have looked at her profile.
• Girl notices that 7 Boys have logged out.
• Girl notices that her inbox is empty.
• Girl is sorry she didn't buy ice cream.
• Disappointment Factor: 7 Boys over 10 Minutes

Closing Scene: Future

• Girl in urban all night mini market paying for kitty litter and various sundries. Girl  goes back for ice cream and meets Boy of her dreams in the freezer section.
• Girl knew that loyalty to Ben and Jerry's would eventually pay off.

No question that the sheer number of disappointments is the price of the sheer number of opportunites. 

For now, I just hope that if cyberspace doesn't offer (true) love, I'll eventually find my Boy  in the freezer section.  At least he'll be well preserved.

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No Job Too Small

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I am obsessed that I have no one around who can move heavy objects. 


We've already established that I know how to do plenty on my own but is it so bad that I miss having a man around for certain tasks? (Haven't men been keeping women around for certain tasks forever?)


This is when I'm at a loss on my own: 

• When I have to move the washing machine.
• When a roach won't die.
• When trash is gross.
• When the pizza arrives and I'm in my underwear.

Where is he? the coyboy? the sailor? the investment banker? the musician? the ambulance driver? the teacher? the actor? the basketball player? The man of my dreams? 


Until he fixes his GPS, others swoosh in and swoosh out, leaving debris in their wake.


They are the ones who know how to move things but don't know how to put them back. 


They waltz in, all strong and handsome, and move heavy objects to my hearts delight. They shake things up, they rock my world, and then they go. 

• They moved the washing machine but it's in the dining room.
• They killed the roach but his relatives are here for the memorial service.
• The trash is still gross but at least it has pizza in it. 

I don't know what's holding up my dream guy. 


Maybe I'm losing it. I am afraid that what was once "come hither" has turned into "come hither and hoist me out of this chair".


But it will be OK. 


It always is. 
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Am I in the Zone Yet?

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I think I'm in a zone.
Not THE zone.
Not that place where athletes break records.
Not that place where artists create masterpieces.
Just a zone of my own creation. That place of inpenetrable apathy toward the things that once upset me. 

I normally don't do apathy. But once in a while it serves as the emotional version of affirmative action. A means to finding my way back to the center. To that place of caring without obsessing.

In the zone, I care less that I don't have a date on Friday night, (or Thursday night, or Wednesday night, or next week or last week). In the zone, this situation is referred to as an opportunity to stop waxing.

In the zone, I eat less bread and ice cream. Out of the zone, eating them together was an eventuality.

I don't know how long my OK mood will last. My moods are nothing, if not precarious.

 For now I am enjoying it. Enjoying just being. Just doing. Just going about my life.

I have no illusions that my knight in shining in armor is around the corner. More likely he is held up repairing a chink and his armor won't be out of the shop for a while.

But nonetheless, I'll hold onto the hope that when he does arrive, it will have been worth the wait.