Well, I'm keeping a promise to "My Little Buddy" and writing this with rapid speed, but don't think I'll be shouting it from the rafters. As a matter of fact, not quite sure what to think after the date ended in Costa Mesa at 6:00, and I walked through my apartment door in Long Beach by 6:41.
Have been on pins and needles for several days with great anticipation, anxiety, and downright terror. Cindy even spent Saturday afternoon teaching me the basics of hair styling. It looked great on Sunday, not quite as good on Monday, and after I got through with it last night, not at all the same but it would have to do. Actually forewarned Mr. Vegas not to judge me by the hair (such a pain trying to grow it out all the same length after 30 years of wearing short, layered coiffures).
Don't get me wrong, it was great finally meeting him and had a great time; and you know, the protocol for first-time internet dates, according to e-Harmony, aren't long, drawn out affairs, actually should only be 15 minutes. Of course, not many have waited for three months to meet for the first time and doubt the majority are long distance match ups.
Mr. Vegas was here on business, was tired, and is getting over his battle of that lingering creeping crud that has been going around. To end it early was the right call and should not label it anything more. Such a relaxing time. Such an enjoyable time. We got along. Not sure what he thought afterwards; however, he did say we would talk, and he hugged me up more than once. I gave him a couple of neck massages to relax, and he returned the favor. Had enough voyeurism?
But seriously, it is such a relief to have the first-time meeting behind us and actually don't feel quite as disheartened as I did two hours ago.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
HOW THINGS CHANGE
What a difference a year makes. It doesn’t seem all that long ago when I was bashing the lovers’ holiday known as Valentine’s Day or the annual “Bake Your Sweetheart Out” church celebration that made no sense to attend (or in all honesty who would want to attend) if you didn’t have a sweetheart.
Last Thursday Mr. Vegas e-mailed me and wished me a “Happy VD” (get the joke) and then clarified it. I called him when I got home from work and asked him if he would be my valentine. There was a short hesitation before he said, “Yes” (he was on a bus heading to the airport on his way home from a business trip).
This past Sunday was another in a long line of “Bake Your Sweetheart Out” galas. I really didn’t plan on attending, but Peggy said we would be each other’s valentines (don’t worry, no need for the tongues to wag). You’ve heard about the pie in the face, but the best part of the evening was Geron getting smacked with a small cake from the grand prizewinners for the second year in a row. It was quite an attractive tiered cake. I think retaliation is in the cards.
I wasn’t sure how the emotions would hold up this February in the year 2008. Februarys have been quite difficult since Carl’s death in 2002 and this is the first time the dates have corresponded to the actual days of six years ago. The memories will always be there and have kept my emotions in tact for the most part and have tried not to dwell on it.
Today on the commute home from work a few teardrops fell as I realized that on Wednesday, the 20th, I had to inform the powers that be to have all life support removed, and I stayed the night in Carl’s hospital room for what would be our last night together. Of course, I didn’t get a wink of sleep. Oops, the moisture has found its way down my cheeks once again.
I think Carl would be pleased that I’ve found a way to go on and find someone to fall in love with again. It seems somewhat uncouth (for lack of a better word) that I would be preparing to go on my first date during this time of year; however, I’m not consumed with guilt and feel good about myself and about life in general. Think that alone would put a smile on Carl’s face.
Last Thursday Mr. Vegas e-mailed me and wished me a “Happy VD” (get the joke) and then clarified it. I called him when I got home from work and asked him if he would be my valentine. There was a short hesitation before he said, “Yes” (he was on a bus heading to the airport on his way home from a business trip).
This past Sunday was another in a long line of “Bake Your Sweetheart Out” galas. I really didn’t plan on attending, but Peggy said we would be each other’s valentines (don’t worry, no need for the tongues to wag). You’ve heard about the pie in the face, but the best part of the evening was Geron getting smacked with a small cake from the grand prizewinners for the second year in a row. It was quite an attractive tiered cake. I think retaliation is in the cards.
I wasn’t sure how the emotions would hold up this February in the year 2008. Februarys have been quite difficult since Carl’s death in 2002 and this is the first time the dates have corresponded to the actual days of six years ago. The memories will always be there and have kept my emotions in tact for the most part and have tried not to dwell on it.
Today on the commute home from work a few teardrops fell as I realized that on Wednesday, the 20th, I had to inform the powers that be to have all life support removed, and I stayed the night in Carl’s hospital room for what would be our last night together. Of course, I didn’t get a wink of sleep. Oops, the moisture has found its way down my cheeks once again.
I think Carl would be pleased that I’ve found a way to go on and find someone to fall in love with again. It seems somewhat uncouth (for lack of a better word) that I would be preparing to go on my first date during this time of year; however, I’m not consumed with guilt and feel good about myself and about life in general. Think that alone would put a smile on Carl’s face.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
THE DUKE
I always liked John Wayne. Maybe it stemmed from his appearance on a two-part episode of I Love Lucy. You remember, when Lucy and Ethel stole the cement block containing The Duke's footprints that was in front of Grauman's Chinese Theater. Maybe it was the movies he made with Maureen O'Hara, or the movie McClintock, or possibly the movie True Grit and his nomination as best actor. I was thrilled when his name was called during the 1969 Academy Award ceremony. In my opinion, the older Mr. Wayne got, the handsomer he became.
When I go to bed, I leave the TV on at a low volume to help drown out any noise from the neighbors. I surfed through the channels and there was one of my favorite John Wayne movies--The Shootist (with Lauren Bacall and Ron Howard) about an aging, infamous gunslinger who tries to come to terms with his impending death from cancer. What made this movie most extraordinary for me--John Wayne was also battling cancer and this would be his last movie. Touching. Poignant. Tearjerking. It couldn't have been scripted any better.
(PS - Mr. E, if the date goes great I'll want to shout it from the rafters; however, I promise no matter what happens to write a blog posthaste.)
When I go to bed, I leave the TV on at a low volume to help drown out any noise from the neighbors. I surfed through the channels and there was one of my favorite John Wayne movies--The Shootist (with Lauren Bacall and Ron Howard) about an aging, infamous gunslinger who tries to come to terms with his impending death from cancer. What made this movie most extraordinary for me--John Wayne was also battling cancer and this would be his last movie. Touching. Poignant. Tearjerking. It couldn't have been scripted any better.
(PS - Mr. E, if the date goes great I'll want to shout it from the rafters; however, I promise no matter what happens to write a blog posthaste.)
Monday, February 18, 2008
WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?
Wasn’t sure what to title this piece. There were so many choices—Irony, Just a Coincidence, Somebody is Trying to Tell You Something; Kind of Creepy. Many people believe certain circumstances are callings from God. Many people wonder if their circumstances in life are meant to be. Prayers are offered up for all kinds of reasons. How does one really know when it’s the real deal?
Soon my three-month subscription to e-Harmony will expire. The majority of my matches were closed due to proximity or failure to communicate. Forgot how frustrating relationships can be and the fluctuation of emotions—feeling up in the beginning of the week and down and depressed toward the end. The last time I reported on the challenges of internet dating, my hope about Mr. Vegas had dwindled. Well, we are still communicating and started talking on the phone two months ago; however, until recently, it was a roller coaster ride of emotions for me and it was necessary to accept that I was not a priority and unsure what rank I was on his list of importance; but things have seemed different this past week. The man is extremely busy and although he has an optimistic outlook on life, he’s much more cautious than me; however, from the outset Ken did say the worse case scenario--we would become friends; to me the start of any great relationship.
We still have not met but next week that will change when Ken comes to Orange County on business. We get along fabulously communicating in writing and on the phone, but he keeps reminding me that eyeball to eyeball will be the test and there may not be any vibes. No, no pressure here, folks. Just makes you want to get a complete makeover--facelift, nose job, hair transplant, boob job, and have the teeth capped. For me there’s no doubt that my feelings will become stronger, but my pessimistic side thinks he’ll just walk away…To say I’m very scared and nervous would be an understatement. Guess it’s do or die time.
In a past blog I alluded to the fact that Carl did a great impersonation of Donald Duck, in my opinion, one of the best. Actually, Donald was Carl’s alter ego and it was as if I had lost two great loves when Carl died.
Last week Mr. Vegas and I were talking about his coming down, and he said there was someone who wanted to talk to me. There was a hesitation and the voice on the other end became Donald Duck. There was silence. Can’t describe it, but I was at a loss for words. It seemed as if Donald had become resurrected. Don’t like keeping secrets, but this might be the one truth that will stay buried. Told a friend who admitted she would have hung up. Jonathan, who for a 22-year-old has kept me grounded and given me great relationship advice, called it “creepy.”
Well, is it irony, coincidence, or is somebody trying to tell me something?
Soon my three-month subscription to e-Harmony will expire. The majority of my matches were closed due to proximity or failure to communicate. Forgot how frustrating relationships can be and the fluctuation of emotions—feeling up in the beginning of the week and down and depressed toward the end. The last time I reported on the challenges of internet dating, my hope about Mr. Vegas had dwindled. Well, we are still communicating and started talking on the phone two months ago; however, until recently, it was a roller coaster ride of emotions for me and it was necessary to accept that I was not a priority and unsure what rank I was on his list of importance; but things have seemed different this past week. The man is extremely busy and although he has an optimistic outlook on life, he’s much more cautious than me; however, from the outset Ken did say the worse case scenario--we would become friends; to me the start of any great relationship.
We still have not met but next week that will change when Ken comes to Orange County on business. We get along fabulously communicating in writing and on the phone, but he keeps reminding me that eyeball to eyeball will be the test and there may not be any vibes. No, no pressure here, folks. Just makes you want to get a complete makeover--facelift, nose job, hair transplant, boob job, and have the teeth capped. For me there’s no doubt that my feelings will become stronger, but my pessimistic side thinks he’ll just walk away…To say I’m very scared and nervous would be an understatement. Guess it’s do or die time.
In a past blog I alluded to the fact that Carl did a great impersonation of Donald Duck, in my opinion, one of the best. Actually, Donald was Carl’s alter ego and it was as if I had lost two great loves when Carl died.
Last week Mr. Vegas and I were talking about his coming down, and he said there was someone who wanted to talk to me. There was a hesitation and the voice on the other end became Donald Duck. There was silence. Can’t describe it, but I was at a loss for words. It seemed as if Donald had become resurrected. Don’t like keeping secrets, but this might be the one truth that will stay buried. Told a friend who admitted she would have hung up. Jonathan, who for a 22-year-old has kept me grounded and given me great relationship advice, called it “creepy.”
Well, is it irony, coincidence, or is somebody trying to tell me something?
Saturday, February 16, 2008
INFIDELITY
Blatantly portrayed on the silver screen and boob tube. Sensationalized in media print. But it's what sells tickets, newspapers, and best-selling novels. It makes hit TV shows and soap operas are one of the worst, but we still sit and watch. There can be no happy couples or monogamous relationships. Why? Because it is considered boring. Never could understand why spouses cheat and have only known a few people who have experienced such a betrayal of trust.
Mary was a student worker in the office last semester and now is volunteering a couple of hours every day to get some medical office experience to help in her pursuit of a medical assistant career. She is married with two young children.
Mary came to work Thursday and quickly disappeared, but her backpack was still on the floor. I was too busy to have observed anything out of the ordinary. Kept working and Pat told me what was wrong and that Mary was talking to one of the psych interns and would probably be a while. Mary found out her husband slept with her sister. I was taken aback as well as disgusted. Talk about a double whammy.
Now, how could that possibly be a forgivable offense? Like I said before, I just don't understand.
Please keep Mary in your prayers.
Mary was a student worker in the office last semester and now is volunteering a couple of hours every day to get some medical office experience to help in her pursuit of a medical assistant career. She is married with two young children.
Mary came to work Thursday and quickly disappeared, but her backpack was still on the floor. I was too busy to have observed anything out of the ordinary. Kept working and Pat told me what was wrong and that Mary was talking to one of the psych interns and would probably be a while. Mary found out her husband slept with her sister. I was taken aback as well as disgusted. Talk about a double whammy.
Now, how could that possibly be a forgivable offense? Like I said before, I just don't understand.
Please keep Mary in your prayers.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
OPEN MOUTH, INSERT FOOT
I'm sure, like me, you've done it many times--after certain words, phrases, and comments come trickling out of your mouth, you want to go crawl into a hole. Luckily, I can't remember most of my faux pas, but unfortunately I committed another boo boo.
Doing laundry on an early Saturday morning to beat the crowd; necessary when there are just two washers and dryers and only one washer working on this particular day. My neighbor had the same idea but would have to wait.
Although never had talked to Mark in depth, I knew he was divorced, and he could have been instrumental in landing me an administrative position with the Jewish association around the corner if I wasn't already working at the college.
Mark related that he had a 13-year-old son and a 19-year-old daughter who attends college. Admitted I had seen his son on occasion as well as his daughter. "No," Mark said, "that probably was my girlfriend." He kept talking quite casually about it--a 19-year age difference--he is 51 and she is 32. I just wanted to disappear and was glad when Mark left.
The more I thought about it, the more incensed I became and somewhat got a bee in my bonnet, enough to consider writing a blog on those relationships known as "May-December" romances, but probably would have stepped on some people's toes.
No wonder seasoned women have trouble finding a man.
Doing laundry on an early Saturday morning to beat the crowd; necessary when there are just two washers and dryers and only one washer working on this particular day. My neighbor had the same idea but would have to wait.
Although never had talked to Mark in depth, I knew he was divorced, and he could have been instrumental in landing me an administrative position with the Jewish association around the corner if I wasn't already working at the college.
Mark related that he had a 13-year-old son and a 19-year-old daughter who attends college. Admitted I had seen his son on occasion as well as his daughter. "No," Mark said, "that probably was my girlfriend." He kept talking quite casually about it--a 19-year age difference--he is 51 and she is 32. I just wanted to disappear and was glad when Mark left.
The more I thought about it, the more incensed I became and somewhat got a bee in my bonnet, enough to consider writing a blog on those relationships known as "May-December" romances, but probably would have stepped on some people's toes.
No wonder seasoned women have trouble finding a man.
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