I Have a Dream

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I have a dream that I will make enough money one day to pay off my mortgage. 
I have a dream that one day my errant soulmate will find me.

Now, here are my real dreams:
I dreamt that my entire house was filled with laundry that needed folding.
I dreamt that my house was surrounded by masked bandits.
I dreamt that all the good toilet stalls were taken and I had to pee in public. 

I recently went on a singles weekend to Eilat and was so disenchanted that I didn't care that I was seen in a bathing suit. Of course there were about 4 men to 50 women. 

Of the 4 about 2 were semi normal and he got my phone number... He even called me. 

We had a nice date. Really. We went out again. 

At some point I couldn't hold it back anymore and I started correcting his grammar.  

I think he barely noticed because he had stopped listening somewhere around appetizers on the second date. One of those people that call you and start right in talking from the middle of the conversation, as if you have been privy to their thoughts for the last hour. 

I still get dressed to run errands lest I meet someone. And of course that can't happen if I am wearing sneakers and no makeup. 

I hold the gaze of someone who I think is cute and bat my ever thinning eyelashes. 

I haven't given up. Keep rooting for me.

Soul Music

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I got a "new" car 6 months ago. I still haven't moved any CDs from the house to the car so I have been at the mercy of the radio; but I did finally give in and add music to my smart phone, once I learned that I can attach a cable to the car radio and listen. It only took me another two months to find the cable at a normal price. And voila. As of today, I have the perfect music in my car, and no warped CDs. 

I realized this morning on my way to work, how qualitatively different it is to listen to music in the morning than to listen to the news. 

I've mentioned here before that music has a way of setting me off into deep sadness. However, today it was different. The resulting melancholy blues notwithstanding, I realized how much closer I have become to defining myself without defining me in relationship to others. I was able to listen to music without remembering who I was with the last time I heard that song, or worse yet, who I wish I could be with while listening the song right now. 

OK. So I did sneak in a who-I-wish-I-could-be-with or two, and he knows who he is, but it didn't put me over the edge. 

Listening to the music I love, and not wallowing in self-pity, was a big step for me this morning. 

Listening to the music I love brought me back to this blog, with the understanding that it didn't just have to be about my search for a man anymore. 

This blog could now be just about being. 

I have decided that 2013 is my year.

Wish me luck.  

May I See Your Portfolio?

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I wish I could say I haven't written since August because I found someone. But I can't and I haven't. 

I wish I could say that it was only because my online shop, Carmel Gifts,  keeps me busy 24/7 but I can't and it doesn't. 

I have been busy with health issues with one of my children, unfortunately, but this will pass too, and it will no longer be an excuse as to why I haven't written for months on end. 

The real reason I haven't written is because I am sparing my loyal readers the humorless diatribes about how truly hard it is to find someone suitable after age 50. 

I was recently introduced to someone who was head over heels crazy about me, offering the whole relationship package, who even lives on my favorite street in Haifa. He immediately started inviting me to do relationship-y things before we had built up to that. (No, I don't want to come over for a bowl of soup. Take me out to a nice restaurant you idiot).  Lo and behold, I realized what it was like to date a woman who wants a relationship. Pretty scary stuff. 

I know that if I had felt that whole love at first sight magic (crap?) I would have gone with the flow. But I didn't and I didn't. 

For ages, I never bothered to answer mail on sites from men that were just inappropriate from the get go. Now I do, because I am tired of being nice. I just answer them why they think I would interested in someone separated (yeah, right) with no picture who can only describe himself as "live and let live". Uh huh. I see real potential there. 

I answer the 30 year old who asks if I've ever been with someone aged 30, with a yes, when I was 30. 

I answer the 65 year old that I am not interested in being anyone's younger woman, but if he were 85 and sitting on a great portfolio, we'd have something to talk about. 

I answer the 40 year old single man who wants a family, that I am not interested in waiting until he meets a 35 year old woman with a ticking uterus. 

I am still formulating an answer for the woman who tells me that I am a closet lesbian and that if I would just meet her I could discover my inner truth. 

I am teetering on the brink of not caring if I meet anyone or not.  But who knows? Maybe someone will show up in time to pull me back from the edge.