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. 

Smile Smile Smile.

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I should never be left alone with a computer when I'm feeling lonely. I will join another dating site.

I am always sure that this new site will be my saving grace. That among the tree-hugging masseurs, middle aged cradle robbers and 30 year olds that think they can teach me something, I may find myself starring in a Romantic Comedy. I will find the one who will have made it worth the wait. 

As time goes by, I realize that chances are I won't find him on this new site or any other. Chances are I may never find him. Chances are I may kiss a lot of frogs and none of them will turn into princes. 

I've been told that if I smile a lot the universe will smile on me. Maybe it will, maybe it won't. But for goodness sake. Sometimes I just don't have a smile in me. 

Can't the universe start the smiling? I promise to smile back under the right circumstances. 

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Count Backward from Ten

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I'm back. I wasn't really gone. Just totally distracted with a zillion thought bytes as well as undergoing minor surgery AND not being able to drive for two months.

PLEASE do not ask me to give details about my life without driving. I am doing a fair job of not pulling my hair out by the roots, not pummeling civil servants about the head and chest, and not engaging in scathing diatribes against the passengers on public transportation for their intrusion on my personal space.

After all, public transportation is the reason that personal space was invented.  

The minor surgery went well. I am desperately trying to relive that experience when, within the course of a split second I am looking around the O.R. and then "poof", I am waking up in recovery. 

I would like to believe that my shameless flirting with the anasthesiologist was not the reason they blacked me out. Regardless, I would love to attach myself to an I.V. drip with that stuff during my next bad date.  

It's just as well they blacked me out. Gynecological surgery is never an event that makes a gal feel pretty. 

Speaking of pretty, I got my hair done, had other hair removed, and generally, have been all dressed up with no place to go. 

I am distracted from this sad state of my love life by my pet projects, this blog being one of them. However, the wheels are churning much too fast in this little head of mine, and more often than not, I get nothing done rather than a lot done. I managed to slow down the thoughts and sift through them one by one. 

Here are some of my conclusions:

• I will not feel bad that I don't write in my blog as often as I used to. Twice a month will be fine. And anyway, you wouldn't want me un-inspired, would you?
• I don't expect to have a date every week. I will, instead, be grateful if a week goes by and I am not called an uppity, ugly bitch just because I didn't want to go out with someone. 
•  I have decided that it is NOT OK if my online shop stays in the hobby realm. I need it to move into the earning realm. 

Most importantly, sometimes I find the wherewithal to remember that even if I never find my partner for life, I have 3 children who, while not calling as often as they should while I sit in the dark, are still pretty wonderful. And for that I am blessed.