...it's beginning to look a lot...

...like that holiday that usually finds me in a black, inward-turning tailspin.  Not so much this year.

...the Basher and I

Thanks for another amazing show, Nick.

...kinda, sorta...

...happy?

Yeah.  I think I am.  I've been meeting a lot of new people, seeing some concerts (Lyle Lovett a few weeks ago and Nick Lowe coming up at the end of August - yay!), starting to do some hiking and just generally feeling much better about things.  I look better and I feel better than I have in a long time.

(and I know I need to smile more)

Good stuff on the horizon at work - most specifically the ability to "officially" telecommute at least 2x a week.  The new VP of my division actually endorses this wholeheartedly, and brought it up in our first one-on-one.  It was all I could do not to weep in front of him.  The $$$ and stress saved will be a Godsend.

My beautiful niece will be married at the end of next month.  I cannot wait to see her and my brother and be there to watch her marry the man she loves.

I've been able to get rid of a lot of emotional baggage over these past 6 months.  It feels like some sort of "switch" was flipped since the romantic debacle in the spring.  I don't know if my feelings have been turned off, or my self-preservation shield has been activated.  Either way, it's very freeing being able to experience things with a different mindset.

I've had a lot of support from a lot of really great friends (the efforts of an insecure, control-freak former SO to the contrary) and I'm grateful for that.

Cody is hanging in there and enjoying his twilight years.  We are looking forward to fall - our favorite season.

...up on a high wire...

...and failing miserably as usual.

 

...cranky blogger...

...turns 52.

...as all the hip folks say...

F.T.G.

(and yet again, Nick Lowe writes the lyrics of my life)

...Happy Birthday!...

Cody, The World's Least Scary German Shepherd is 11 today.

...closing shop...

Ironically, right after my last post on dating over 50, I met someone.

He was smart, funny, attractive (to me), and had the kindest eyes I've ever seen.

This time, I did all the right things.  I went slowly.  I watched for signs - signs of things I had encountered before - ones that ended up causing me pain.  I Googled.  I consulted with my therapist.

We confided in one another - he about the loss of his wife 5 years ago, and me about the betrayals and challenges I've struggled to overcome.  We had the same world views.  We had similar tastes in films and books, but I confess I couldn't grasp his appreciation for the music of  Rammstein and Buckethead.  He felt the same way about Nick Lowe, but as he said "it's the differences that make it interesting"

I felt I could trust him when he said "it must be difficult for you to take any man at his word".  I felt he "got it".

We spent much time together.  He made me happy; every time he saw me he got the biggest smile on his face.  He was supportive when I had an appointment for a small medical procedure that I was fearing because it would be painful.  He took me with him when he shopped for clothes.  I took him to Easton and showed him the places I liked.  We went grocery shopping together (I still think jalapeno Combos are a figment of his imagination).  He fell in love with Cody, The World's Least Scary German Shepherd, and I can say the feeling was mutual.

It felt good.  His actions matched his words.  He was communicative about fears and hopes.  I was, too.

And then - "I have some drama I have to take care of".  The drama was a previous relationship that had ended only 3 weeks before he met me - one he never told me about.  I knew nothing.  We last talked on the phone this past Sunday.  He told me it was a six month relationship that was on and off and full of fighting, but that it hadn't ended cleanly and he had to "see it through" even though it "doesn't have a good history - I can't turn my back on it with peace of mind"  He said he was probably making the biggest mistake of his life. Through my tears (and through his, because he was crying, too) I told him he was - he was giving me up.

And like that, it was over.

Do I think he intentionally set out to hurt me?  Possibly not, but that doesn't matter, does it?  Because he did.  He did the worst thing he could have done - gave me happiness and hope, and then snatched it away.  Was he falling for me and got scared - who knows?  Was he a complete and utter douchebag?  In my heart of hearts I can't believe that.  That, however, doesn't change the fact he lied to me and I can't risk a liar in my life.

I hope his going back brings him happiness.  I don't think it will - by his own admission he doesn't think it will.  I hope, too, that if he thinks of me, he'll compare what he had with me with what he went back to and will always regret it.

I have a friend - Mike - who is just about to turn 60.  He's utterly and completely given up on finding a lasting, loving relationship.  I've always chided him about this - I tell him love is out there and it's just a matter of looking for it.  However, in the past few days since this happened to me, I am beginning to think he's very, very wise.

I'm tired of losing pieces of myself.  I'm tired of hoping and then having hopes crushed.  I'm tired of being the one who is so great and wonderful and "you've really changed my mind about re-marrying, Pamela" (thanks, as he gets engaged to someone else).  I'm tired of it all.

So, the shop is closed.  That's a hard thing, closing your heart.  It hurts as much as opening it, but in a different way because you know that the pain will eventually end and it will scar over and maybe just be a bit tender.  It won't be a continuous ache.

So, thus ends my short (as you say "Thank God"!) series on dating after 50.  I'm off to drop a line to my friend Mike to tell him I won't be chop-busting about this any longer.

...Dating Over 50

...it ain't for sissies.

On the 60s spy-com, Get Smart, CONTROL agents utilized a device called the Cone of Silence when they wanted to speak privately.  The gag was that once the cones were in place, neither party could hear the other (you have to trust me that the TV series was eminently funnier and wittier than the Steve Carrell movie)

Now that I have turned 50 – I’ll be 52 in June, actually - I have found that I too, have what might be a CONTROL device.  I call it the “Veil of Invisibility”.  It renders me invisible to men.  While that could have its upside, I’m still trying to determine what that might be.  It makes dating (both the online and offline varieties) kinda difficult.

Online dating is not for the faint-hearted.  It has its own language and social minefields.

•   The first thing I learned is that “looking for a woman who takes care of herself” translates to the King’s English as “must be a size 2 and wear a 44DD bra”.  Why don’t you just say that?  We size 16 women know exactly what you’re on about and we promise not to bother you.  (It’s an easy promise to keep, because we know exactly what you’re like otherwise)

 me - busy not "taking care of" myself

•   Any male over the age of about 17 who makes that dopey two-fingered “gangsta” sign in their profile picture should be incarcerated and forced to live with people who have some actual experience with the lifestyle associated with that gesture.  C’mon.  You’re 51.

•   You are not “divorced” if your wife “spends a lot of time at your place” and you “go on vacations together with the boys”.  The boys in question are 17 and 22.  Not 7 and 2, but 17 and 22.  If she’s that great of a gal, I think you should remarry her.

•   Did you know there’s a male equivalent of the duck-face, cleavage shot in the bathroom mirror?  It’s the one where the guy poses like the Incredible Hulk in front of the mirror in the gym bathroom.  And it’s just as ridiculous as the female version.  Don’t you own a shirt?  Or have a friend who can operate your smartphone camera?  How can I tell what you really look like when you’re straining like a Russian Olympic weightlifter?

•   I don’t need to see photos of your Harley, your ATV, your Mercedes, or you with your arm around Bam Margera.  While I realize buying a Harley is the male equivalent of purchasing a series of Botox injections, it doesn’t impress me.  And the Bam Margera thing definitely doesn’t impress me.  Don’t you have a picture of you and your dog, having fun in the backyard? 

•   “No drama” means “the first time a crisis arises, I’ll be gone so fast it will make your head spin”.  However, the “no drama” rule will immediately be rescinded if you “take care of yourself”

More later, I assure you.  Maybe I should take another tip from Get Smart.  That Hymie the Robot was a nice lookin’ guy…I wonder if there’s a guide to making one in a back issue of Popular Mechanics ?

...Happy Valentine's Day...

...watch it today with someone you love.

...R.I.P. ~ Reg Presley...

"Wild Thing" by The Troggs was the first 45 record I remember having.  I wore it out.

Thanks for the great music, Reg.

(I'm all for that fashion look making a comeback)

...best refrigerator...

...EVAR!


A late 40s/early 50s Philco v—handle refrigerator.

Turn the left side of the V and the refrigerator opens on the left.  Turn the right side, and yep, you guessed it...it opens from the right.

God, that's brilliant.

...the girl from yesterday...

It wasn't really sad the way they said good-bye 

Or maybe it just hurt so bad she couldn't cry 

He packed his things, walked out the door and drove away 

And she became the girl from yesterday 

He took a plane across the sea 

To some foreign land 

She stayed at home and tried so hard to understand 

How someone who had been so close could be so far away 

And she became the girl from yesterday 

She doesn't know what's right 

She doesn't know what's wrong 

She only knows the pain that comes from waiting for so long 

And she doesn't count the teardrops 

That she's cried while he's away 

Because she knows deep in her heart 

That he'll be back someday 

The light's on in the window; she's waiting by the phone 

Talking to a memory that's never coming home 

She dreams of his returning and the things that he might say 

But she'll always be the girl from yesterday 

Yeh, she'll always be the girl from yesterday