Online Dating and Younger Men: Cougar Madness

I'm comfortable with dating older men.  I love the softer look of salt and pepper hair, with gentle laugh lines around their eyes.  I don't mind hairlines that step back or heads that are bald.  It's a look I love.  I love natural hair.  Younger men are all about manscaping and I just don't get it. Unfortunately, most of the men my age that I meet online think I'm much younger, because in reality, for a lot of men my age, I'm just too old for them.

I'm often approached by younger men.  Men that are about 20 or 22 accept that I don't date younger men.  They accept my answer and move on.  There are plenty of other women that would love the attention.

Christmas night I was hit with the realization that I wasn't fully embracing the celebration.  I was sober all of Thanksgiving.  I'm not much of a drinker.  I was sober with my sister while making tamales in Torrance on Friday.  I was sober Saturday with family while I was driving my kids around.  Sunday I was primarily sober.  I went to a friend's house and had a Smirnoff Ice with dinner, because I was driving home and I love my car.  Sunday night, I decided to have that Hot Buttered Rum I kept putting off.  I was sipping, crocheting a blanket and swiping on dating apps.  It sounds pathetic, but I was in a really happy place.  I had forgotten how much I loved making blankets and scarves until I watched my sister knitting beautiful blankets on Friday.  (I'm telling her she should sell them.  Wait for that shameless plug if she ever decides to.)

Sunday night there was a man 10 years my junior that wouldn't accept my no.  After 25, they get a little ballsy.  They know what they want and understand persistence.  We talked a bit.

The next morning I was waiting for my ex to call to tell me to come get the boys.  I told him I'd come when the kids were up.  This 28 year old said good morning and asked me to join him for coffee.  I agreed.  Just like that. We met in Pasadena and ended up talking up until I got a call saying it was time to get my kids.  His cappuccino was gone and my blonde roast coffee was cold.

On Friday when I met someone else for coffee, we talked about life, work, careers, and divorce.  It's something we both knew too much about.  We talked about Landmark and MITT.  We laughed and I really enjoyed his company.  We parted with a hug and I knew I would probably never see him again. There wasn't a spark or even a longing for more than a hug.

Monday morning I arrived first and was surprised to see us driving the same car when he pulled in.  He paid for my coffee and our conversation kept drifting in all sorts of ways through life, careers, and world travel.  He comes from the middle east and he's making the American Dream his, while caring for his parents.  For just long enough, I was able to ignore the math when thinking about how old he was when I gave birth to my firstborn 15 years ago.  I was able to ignore how creepy that felt.  We parted ways and I felt like I might be open to another date.

As the day became night and into today, the conversation is still flowing and I keep getting this instinctual gut punch that says no.  I'm still swiping and there is another man that is coming out to LA from the east coast at the end of the month.  I can already tell I'll never meet him, but I can enjoy this for what it is.  He's 27.  He has the emotional depth that I outgrew many years ago.

Both of them stand out from older men already.  It's not the looks.  They're handsome, but so are older men.  They're sexual, and interested, but so are older men.  What sets them apart is how much I can't connect with them.  I'm a straight shooter.  They reciprocate that.  They are looking to race into something and define it quickly.  They are trying to nail down my commitment to their superficial needs.  They want it physical and don't know how to slow down from the need that drives them.  They want to see if we'll be friends, and do I expect more of a relationship.  No matter how much I try to explain it, I can't quite get them to understand that no woman wants to be treated like a discount hooker.

You get older and it's more than physical needs. Both men and women need someone that understands and connects intellectually and emotionally.  One night of fun is one thing, but the person they want to share their mornings with needs to understand and support them and the younger men don't seem to know how to be comfortable in exploring their passions outside of bed with me. The road map I follow means we linger for a long while in an intellectual bliss before I'm ready to move on from there.  I know what I'm capable of and it's not a theory I need to test out at every opportunity.

Unfortunately, this same need in older men means they want to hold me down and claim me as a wife before we've ever met in person. That feels just as crazy and bad.  The older men are looking for a partner.  They understand when I need to step away to be a mother.  That might also just be the men.  I spent Christmas night with three grown men that were very hands on with their children and other's children in a way that I needed to see.  It was so healing and hopeful to see these men feed and put those babies to sleep.  They parented their children and were willing to be chased and tickle, and horseplay.  It was far from the childhood my boys had and I went home so moved.  Maybe slightly tearful.  I get to find that one day.

The younger men don't understand and their impatience stands out.  They ask if I like games like truth or dare, or if I would play video games with them. They don't understand when I explain I don't watch a lot of television or movies because I grew up with far less screen time than they did.  I don't get bored without a television or movie on.  I can be content with a pen and paper or yarn and a crochet hook.  Or a book.  Those things build, rock and destroy worlds inside of them.

I'm reminding myself to not think of the age difference because it creeps me out, and I'm trying to be patient through the parts that aren't right to enjoy how it feels to be so irresistible to these younger men.  They don't mind the softer look of a mother's body and I keep hearing that my mothering is what makes me hot. I'm trying to let that land. Trying.  I don't think it's about age, but I often come across men that feel all they have to offer is sexual or financial in nature when all I want is a deep and meaningful conversation.  That's a gift of humanity so many feel they can't take ownership of. And yet, we're all just humans.

New Traditions After Divorce

It is a great Christmas to be me.  I'm really giving myself to the holidays as a single mom on my terms. When we hashed out custody, I was intentional with wanting Christmas Eve with my boys.  My family always celebrates Christmas Eve and I was able to start my celebrations with a first date at Catalina Coffee Company yesterday morning (beautiful blue eyes, amazing conversation, couldn't look away from his dimples, didn't feel an ounce of chemistry, great venue). I then enjoyed most of yesterday with one sister over several hours of making tamales yesterday. This morning  was alone with my boys at breakfast.  We had our private gift opening at home and then I enjoyed a day with my kids and ginormous family.  Right now I get to have a really appreciated quiet night alone.  (Although that hot buttered rum is calling me.) Tomorrow my adventures will continue with more family and friends. I started my day with my boys at a Denny's Christmas breakfast.  I hated making breakfast first thing in the morning.  I was never hungry and the kids were always picky.  I got to eat later in the morning, and I wasn't the short order cook.  I don't remember last year, but this year has been great. I explained to my boys the thoughts my last post inspired for me.  I explained that in asking what they want for Christmas and focusing only on that, I was teaching them to be takers without bothering to show them the joys of giving.  It was a stretch for me but I asked them if they wanted to go get a present for their Dad for Christmas.  The little one immediately said no.  The oldest said he was planning to draw him a picture, and my middle son hesitated the longest before saying no.  Maybe it was strange to imagine me footing the bill for him.  I then asked if they wanted to pick out a gift for their Grandparents and they were excited about that.

We walked around the CVS after expressing gratitude that we weren't at Target when we drove by the Target parking lot on Christmas Eve. (We're working on finding gratitude in everything.) The boys picked out house shoes for their Grandpa, and a blanket for their Grandma.  They wanted something to keep them warm and comfortable.  We wrapped it and when we arrived at Grandma's house, for the first time they gave their grandparents a gift they picked out themselves.  It wasn't something I picked.  It was something they chose and they got to experience the gratitude of their grandparents.  The look on my children's face was all I needed in that moment.

I see where my children are growing and where I need to continue to guide them in so many ways and today was a humbling and encouraging lesson for me.  But it was a day of shifting traditions and seeing how it's about learning and growing as a family.

Not only have I been teaching my boys to be takers, I was teaching them to live in scarcity, and keeping them from dreaming big.  My older two had modest wish lists.  My little one wanted a trampoline, but that was the most out of the box gift they came up with. Later in the day, Kid3 expressed wanting a Nintendo 3DS.  In the past that meant waiting for the next holiday or birthday.  I explained that I always want to give my kids what they want and we don't have to wait for a holiday or for him to deserve it.  We just had to wait for when I could do it, but it would go on the whiteboard at home as a goal.  What I didn't expect was that in my daily examples, I was teaching my oldest to be a martyr.

After breakfast and picking up their grandparent's gifts, they came in the house and I told them they could open their presents.  In the past, it was always structured.  One present at a time, with all of us watching.  It always bothered me because it was a show of "look what I got you and show me you like it." It shifted.  It wasn't about the individual gifts but the overall feeling of getting them what they wanted and letting them know I listened to what they wanted and noticed the things they didn't say. Today I told them to have at it.  They had the freedom to open their presents with their names on them and I stood back and enjoyed their excitement.  They were happy.  I exceeded their expectations.  Then they asked if I could get a duplicate for their Dad's house.  I said we could wait until they're back with me and see if they still need what they want.

At one point, Kid2 was fully hit with FOMO (fear of missing out) and wanted a game his brother asked for.  He raged.  He searched for a different game he lost a while back and he was in complete break down.  I had him come to me and I held him as he cried.  He sobbed.  He screamed.  Kid1 had started looking for the game on behalf of his brother and he decided to do all he could to support his brother . . . Including giving his brother the game I had just given him for Christmas in exchange for $10.  He later threw in his gummy bears as well (his absolute favorite candy). He sacrificed his joy for his brother.

Wow. I mean, this kid!  He's mine.  He gets my good and my bad, and surprises me with things I didn't know were possible.  I gave him a Christmas hug in parting and had him look me in the eye. I told him he doesn't have to sacrifice himself because he matters.  I told him he can't be a world changer if there's nothing of him left to change the world.  Now I get to live that to give him that example.

Toward the end of the night, I got feedback that makes me want to address a couple of things.  I should clarify that the dates that look too good to be true are catfish, but there are really great men that are real.  Good morning, good night, and surprise sexy texts are a reality.  It's super rare that I want to meet in person.  He has to be really special to get my time. If you don't like what I write, you don't have to follow or read it.  It's a choice.  Stand by it or find a hobby.

The part that bothered me was it was suggested I was doing Christmas wrong because I was stepping away from a tradition I adopted but never called my own.  It made me doubt our celebrations long enough to ask my kids if they were happy.  They let me know they had a great day.  They had fun with our family.  The younger two even suggested wanting to go home with me and I melted at the hugs from Kid1. My sisters were a bit surprised at how much my Kid1 has grown.  Our day showed me my next goal and tonight I am having the evening I used to enjoy.  There might be a bit of booze. There will be some yarn work and maybe some reading.  I won't be up all night setting the tree to look a certain way.  I didn't have to bake cookies for Santa.  I love the life I get to live!

I didn't have a traditional Christmas before I got married. We always gathered for Christmas and I think Christmas Eve became our tradition shifting in favor of our growing family.  We gather Christmas Eve and on Christmas Day we get to have our children and in-laws.  This year we had tri-tip, tamales, coleslaw, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, fresh fruit and veggies, and desserts.  Thai noodle soup was the highlight of my night.  It is a throwing together of our huge family and our smaller families.  At some point my brother started throwing dollar bills out for the kids in a "make it rain" dance they love.  It's chaos, but it's family. It's my family.  Our traditions shift and grow, as do we, and I get to make this celebration my own in all of the best ways.

There was a terrific balance of my wants and my kids wants.  There is a give and take where we do what we like, and no one is forced into more than we want.  We went to Grandma's house for me, and my introvert got to decide when we were done and leaving. My inner ambivert was happy with his timing. There was time with my family and time alone.  There will be space for friends and I'm shooting for solo explorations as well.  I don't have to cook foods I won't eat or feel like I have to do things I really don't want to. This new life feels like freedom and it tastes like I want more.

Teaching My Child To Give

In my flustered push and pull through getting Christmas together for my kids, I was trying to see if I missed anything from my kid's wish lists.  We were in the car and I asked my boys if there was anything else they wanted that they didn't tell me about.  They're getting better at telling me what they want.  For a while they were afraid to want anything.  At some point I made them feel like wanting things was a negative feeling.  At some point I taught them to function and live in scarcity, and I get to teach them to live abundantly as I learn it myself. My oldest son looked timidly at me, then tried to tuck himself away shyly into his hands and shirt.  My 15 year old reminded me of a turtle.  I could see his fear and uncertainty, so I encouraged him to talk to me.  He told me about a friend of his that wasn't expecting much for Christmas.  My son understood that his friend was living on very little income and he understood that because it has been our reality.  He asked if he could buy his friend a $40 game and pulled a little wad of cash out of his wallet to show me he needed my support.  I've been trying to teach them that they don't need help.  They don't need me to rescue them.  They could use my support though and I'm happy to offer it.  They can be supported through their journeys, and here he was, putting that lesson to work.  I asked what he was willing to do if I had said no.  He said he was prepared to ask his friends if they would work together.  I mean seriously? I get to raise this kid.  I get to be this young man's mother.  That night we went to two Walmart's and a Target.  We also survived Kid3's meltdown.

We got home and with my support, he wrapped it himself.  Then I had a moment of fear and it became a lesson for my son, and a lesson to me.  My lesson was how my past so strongly influences my future.  For me to worry about a reaction I had received and given . . . my hang ups on gifts . . . I get to look at that.  I get to examine and change things.

In talking to my son, I realized my fear was about the many times I had given or received a gift and the emotions that go with that. It was about the times I received a gift that wasn't what I would have wanted, but something the giver would have wanted, without any thought to who I am.  It's more honest than polite people would ever admit.

I wasn't always great at gift receiving.  Especially when it came to my Dad.  I was never satisfied with what he offered. He's given me jewelry, and it was always large and not something I would ever choose to wear.  I would accept it and complain later.  I once asked for a keyboard so I could learn to play the piano.  It came several years later, and in my teenage selfishness, I couldn't appreciate it until my ex gave it to one of his friends. Now I remember that not every Dad is around or generous, or half the man my Dad is.  His gifts are treasured.

When my boys were young, I would try to find gifts for them, and they would be more interested in the box, or smearing peanut butter and yogurt on walls, because sensory integration dysfunction is an adventure that way.

I remember one Mother's Day I was so upset that I didn't receive what I wanted.  It was a few years in a row of receiving less or other than I hoped for.  Honestly, I would have loved a solo hotel stay with a full Kindle and room service. I was very vocal about it too. But I was in my mood and pretty angry at my ex.  This was about seven or eight years into my marriage.  I remember being able to count off the ways I was disappointed until the day my son handed me a gift he made for me.  That was when I realized receiving a gift was about how much I could show the giver their thoughtfulness was appreciated and I really didn't have to be so selfish.

So back to my really considerate son . . . Here he was, about to gift a present to a friend and I worried about his friend's pride in terms of the gift.  I worried about it being something that wasn't wanted, and I worried that my son's generosity would become a source of pain for him. I will always want to protect him.

I told him to think of giving as the gift he was offering.  He told me about a game he had given to his brother that was lost and how angry he was.  I pointed out that once you give a gift, you stop worrying about what they'll do with it.  You give a gift as an act of love.  You don't worry about how it would be used or if it would be immediately discarded.

It's too much to expect a gift to live the way you want it to and the greatest example is the life of a child.  I gave the world my kids and it's hard to accept the world might abuse my children and it's hard to accept that my kids won't always behave the way I want them to. I get to send them out after caring for them the best way I know how, and I get to hope there is enough love to cover them.

As I explained to my son, giving is about giving and not how it's received.  Once we give a gift, we don't worry about how it's received or what is done with it.  We find our joy in thinking of someone else. We think of how much they'll like the gift because we're not giving what we would want, but what they would appreciate and find useful.  However it's received doesn't matter as much as the love we put into giving it.

Then I told him to consider how much joy he found in thinking of his friend.  I told him to think of that and consider how much others enjoy giving to him.  I told him to accept gifts with that same feeling because of how great it feels to give.  We would want others to experience our joy in receiving.

New Year's Resolution 2017!

I never make New Year's Resolutions, but this is the year I will start.  It's about continuing intentionally through my lifelong transformation.  It's about finding my gift receipt and returning what I don't need. It's been an eye opening few weeks.  I've been trying to be intentional in my self care.  It doesn't always go well.  But I'm trying.  In the last few weeks at work and life jumping up to surprise me in creative and nasty ways, I have let my situation control how I feel and that is not something I want to do with my life.  In the last month or so, both my Dad and Step Dad have been hospitalized. I've noticed their choices and have been able to see something that made parts of myself fall into place and I'm shocked.

My early 70 something year old Dad was hospitalized a few days one week, got released, went to Vegas and came home, then ended up hospitalized again on something unrelated in the very next day.  He's now planning an exercise regimen from his hospital bed.

My late 70 something year old Step Dad was hospitalized, nearly lost his life, then took the family to Knott's Berry Farm within days of being released. Seriously.

I had Kid3 in 2006 and within a couple of weeks, spent a weekend walking around Sea World because my ex wanted to take the family.

Less than a month after being hospitalized a month, and having a c-section to deliver surrogate twins in 2012, I was walking around Legoland. I remember being in pain, still leaking from birth, and being miserable even while on serious pain meds both times.

What I did was for the sake of family, but it goes deeper.  I live on a property that has two houses on one lot.  For a while, my sister that is slowly going blind lived right behind my house.  I decided on the day after Christmas, I would put exterior lights up outside to help her see at night because the walkway between houses could be dark.  I climbed up a ladder and strung those lights up without someone to hand me lights, or hold the ladder while my ex stayed in bed watching something on television.

No sense of self preservation, right? No sense of self care or asking for help or suggesting that maybe, space and time to heal and recover would be a great idea.

For the first time in years, I have a New Year's Resolution.  Self care will be a priority.  I won't allow work, or family, or obligations to weigh so heavily on me that they control my ability to breathe in peace and feel restored by sunlight. I won't get so angry that I indulge in road ragey moments of yelling at people that can't hear me and probably have no idea I'm irked.  I will be in control of how I react and that means I will care for myself like I love myself because I do.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 9

The day I was expecting has finally arrived! I don't need to feel like a cold harpy that couldn't give a poor romantic the benefit of the doubt.  The man that has been trying to keep my attention has finally gotten to the point, and here I go, trolling my catfish. Naughty Bloggess, I know. Someone should consider spanking me. Assuming I'm not creeped out . . . And I'm interested in his conversation . . . And dinner should happen.  Okay, maybe we should skip the spanking.  Apparently I'm asking for way too much.

I thought the request would involve his phone.  The phone was what he kept complaining about, even though the flight home was something we talked about.  I just assumed he would say he didn't have enough notice for the flight but he surprised me.

I could understand an account being frozen, but a damaged card still has usable numbers you can read or type into a website.  He's a New Yorker/Californian/World Traveller, and he should know this. Right?

And if you can recall (I can), this job already paid him half of what he was expecting to get paid for the completion of the job.  Is it possible that with that kind of a payout on a job he flew to Brazil for with a team of about 10 . . . No one else could help him?

I offer a way out when I can. They never take it. The big request was almost anti-climactic, but this is where I start trolling him and I really have fun with it.  Because I'm not always a nice person, right?

If I were a nice person, I would just tell him the reality of what I'm doing on my blog.  But is that really a nice thing to do? To tell them we were playing a partnered game? I wouldn't take out a loan for myself if I can avoid it because I think of the reality of paying it back.  If you can't take out a loan at a bank, why should I trust you with my money.  People work at banks and get paid big bucks to make prudent decisions.  I should trust their lead, right?

Yesterday there were a few texts without his odd typos.  It's like he forgot what he was supposed to be doing.  Commitment to your lies helps sell the story.  Me for example . . .

I am intentionally making myself into a very plump and delicious whale. Maybe I can drag this one out for another 9 days.  Not that I want to bore you with my shenanigans.  I just want to frustrate him. My Kid1 intends to send me the "dankest memes" so I can send those as my send off.  We've connected over our web shenanigans.

So it's now day 10, and he's been checking in with me more often and trying to see how I'm coming along with his request.  The point of this blog series was to tell you what to look for, so I won't bother giving you the details of my debauchery and lies unless you really want them.

My reality is I've been catfished more often than I want to be.  I don't bother sharing their pictures or other details because I'm sure most of them are fake.  There's probably some innocent person out there that gives great massages, loves to cuddle and visit museums and has a really large brain and he has no idea his pictures are being used for someone's income stream.

I had a job interview for a pharmaceutical company that wanted me to interview through Google Hangouts.  That was the first red flag.  Asking my sex, age, marital status and other illegal details was another.  They asked where I banked to see if they could set up direct deposit.

I met another man Saturday just after I lost my job.  He's been offering to send me money.  He's been asking for my checking account and routing numbers but doesn't understand why I won't trust him.  He almost seemed angry at my mistrust and gave many excuses as to why he can't use Western Union, Paypal, Venmo or the Go Fund Me pages I set up when I was trying to take my leadership classes.

We reveal so much in passive conversation.  How old are you? I just had my birthday, when is yours?  Where do you live? Are we close? Are you still married?

No one needs to know where you bank or private details like your bank account.

A birth date can be used for verification.

No one needs your social security number unless they are reporting to the government.

You don't need to lend money to a person that not even a bank would trust.  Seriously. Don't take my word for it.  My kids collaborated so I could test their internet savvy.

According to Kid1:

You don't give out your address, your age, social security number, credit card information, zip code, and never post a picture of your face in your profile. Use a fake name and fake age (because he's not old enough to have a YouTube). Rule 34, if it exists, there's a porn of it, don't test it. Many of my friends have tested it.  I am unfortunately one of those people that tested it. People are very weird.  And there are many places you don't go on the internet like 8Chan, 2Chan, 4Chan.  They're all full of edgy people. They will find your internet IP and home address.  Just don't go.

According to Kid2:

Don't give out your info. No info at all, except my Nintendo friend code.

Kid3: Not your middle or last name.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 8

The weight of my reality gave way to the fact that I overthink everything and I'm really great at that.  And then my catfish was back to his normal  by late evening and it was easier to see clearly.

His typing errors made me believe he was just going to ask for a new phone.

Poor thing fell and hurt his phone.

It amazes me that he would seriously wait days until Christmas to try to book a flight.  There are movies made about those kinds of shenanigans.

I was thinking he was full of it, but clearly I am too, so I said he was sweet instead.

It would have been vengeance worthy if he had asked me to set my kids up for his fall too.  Seriously, who does this kind of thing?

At this point there was genuine suspense.  Was he going to try to show up? Was this part of his game?

What was the laugh? Was it that I wanted to analyze what he said? Was it about the fact that I could find a way to relate to his lies?

And there goes that phone again. Maybe he should do something about it.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 7 & Day 8

Day 6 started with me finding out I don't have my job anymore, but I'm fishing for a catfish so I wasn't going to let him know. Day 7 I met a friend and another friend of hers for brunch so we could brainstorm ideas and discuss my career direction. I also needed the connection and support.  I told them about my latest catfish and one of the women at our table told me about the one that forced her off all sites for good. Her situation required a police report. Yikes!

I was still in shock from some of the many turns my life is taking right now, but still super confident that this man talking to me is only lying to me.  He was very missing throughout the day, reaching out to say he missed me and loved me and wanted to leave Brazil and come home to me.

Of course he encourages the clinginess.  That's how he knows I would do anything for him.

I was amused by this exchange because nothing can come between us, but his being right back waited several hours.  I was busy, so it wasn't a big deal.

Day 8 came and I was going through the stages we go through when faced with change in our lives.  Call it grief.  Call it disappointment.  It was stages of exhaustion, frustration, disappointment, and hope.  And in my abnormal weakness, his words penetrated in a way that was unexpected.  I'll spare you the screenshots.

 Promises of love

The reason I am writing this today is because I can’t stop thinking about you, and I can’t stop myself from imagining how happy we will be. Let this be a promise to you that I will do my best to be the man I want to be for you. I may not yet know all of the difficulties that come with a lifetime commitment, but I have enough relationship experience to know what I want and how I picture my life with the person I will commit to and that is you Yessica. I promise to do my best to make you beam daily, so count on many surprises. Your smile will be my priority. I get weak knees when anybody smiles, so just imagine the effort I will make to be the source of yours. I promise I will always look at you with the same adoration as I did the moment I realized I loved you. I promise to try to ignite the same sparkle in your eyes I see when you’re surprised, inspired, motivated or when you are about to lean in to kiss me. I promise to hold your hand when we’re 80 years old with the same liveliness that I did when I crossed that line to hold yours for the first time. I vow never to let the excitement of dating me die down; I will surprise you with the location, the reason or the activity itself. I promise to keep you guessing where we’re going next. I promise to do my best always to interest you. I will keep reinventing myself, gaining new hobbies, new knowledge and new interests to keep you and myself entertained. I promise to kiss you throughout our life do my best to remain physically attractive for you, and I will do my best to be healthy in order to keep up with our kids someone has got to teach them Muay Thai kickboxing..lol...I’ll train you, too; I want you to know how to fight and defend yourself, just don’t use it against me. Lol I promise to help you to be healthy, both physically and mentally. I will cook and clean for us. Expect the best breakfast: traditional Armenian tomato and pepper omelets, followed by fruit salad with… well, I can’t give all the secrets out. I promise to strive to be a role model for our children. I want both you and them to see me as a source of motivation. I want to inspire them in the same way that my father inspires me.I promise to do my best to love your family as you love them and to be by their side as much as I am by yours. I promise to always listen to you when you simply just want to be heard; when you want someone to vent to about something or when you want advice. I will listen to you especially when you don’t feel comfortable sharing your thoughts with anybody else, and to the things you try to tell me when you’re not even speaking. I promise to always listen. During our life together, I promise to make sure that you feel as though you are the center of the household — I know you will be — and I will always try to show my appreciation for you because of that. I promise never to let my guard down in taking care of us. I know you won’t be one to be satisfied with the bare minimum. I promise to do everything that I can for you without taking away from your independence physically, intellectually or emotionally. I promise to create family traditions and to make sure that your legacy lives forever through our children. I promise to encapsulate the moment when I realize that I am in the most magnetic, amorous and erotic love with you, not to let that feeling dissipate to the best of my ability and to relive it with you constantly, always.....I love you Yessica Please don't break my heart!!!

And this is where the doubt creeps in. When I got through this I felt a lump in my throat and my mouth went dry.  My heart was beating against my rib cage in a rabitted race. I couldn't form the words to engage with my son. I couldn't move because my body was holding me in the moment that called out to my soul. How could he speak so intimately to the many desires of my heart I never knew I could yearn for?  In the hours following, I felt so conflicted.  So much of my right now is up in the air and all that falls around me is the loss of anomie, and he's here, saying he'll be the anchor I need.  I had to go back and actually read what I had written since he became the subject of my blog posts. I had to remember that it's only been 8 days and this is not normal.  This is not okay.  But I didn't feel anger.  I felt gratitude.  He offered words that invoked feelings I thought were dead.  I thought that part of me had been broken and the times I feel a fluttering, I can only feel gratitude.

I wondered if what I'm doing is wrong.  I wondered if it's possible that he's a genuine man that really did fall in love with my smile and maybe he really did picture a forever.  It would have had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fantasy in his head of me, but what if he's being honest? What if he really is drawn to me?  What if my blog is going to strike again as the destroyer of relationships? It has happened. It will happen. I hope to find a love that doesn't care what I write.

Then I remember that my feelings and thoughts are valid.  I remember that he really hasn't convinced me that I want more kids, and if he's genuine about what he says, he wants a child and I couldn't at this point offer that.  I have only been talking to him for 8 days.  I've never seen him in person and I've never heard his voice. This isn't a relationship but an illusion.

And then I wonder what it would be like if I wasn't who I am? What if I was the girl I was out of highschool? What if I had my past insecurities? What if I needed to hear what he was selling because I couldn't see the ways in which I am amazing. Briefly the thought of other women occurs to me.  What about these women that need to hear these things more than I do today? What about the women that would spend thousands on keeping a man happy to keep his affection.  I want to be angry and rage, but I can't.  In this moment, I let his words wash over me, and pretend for a few more moments that I have no doubts.  I pretend for a bit that we are the picture of love he's been painting and I indulge in a fantasy because my boys are yelling and his fantasy is so much better than my present reality. And I ignore the fact that aside from tomorrow night and Christmas Eve and some friends that are welcoming me on Christmas Day, lost in his fantasy, I will still be alone.  He hasn't solved the problem I had in going online to find a date.  I still don't have a date, even if he promises to be here Christmas Eve to be with me. And it occurs to me that I have nothing to wear because there's enough doubt that I wonder if he will show up.

Waiting on My Miracle Between Jobs

Everything in life happens exactly as it's supposed to in the time and manner that it is meant to happen in. A couple of weeks back, the person taking the company reigns had a town hall meeting.  He encouraged discourse and I asked about the temps.  I asked what was going to be done for the many people that they had invested training in, that they were losing in a company exodus to other companies.  His answer inspired hope, and I emailed my gratitude, and then applied for an open position that I never heard back from.

Fast forward to Thursday when I sat alone at a table during the holiday party.  I was joined by strangers in Sales that told me about a position they were looking to fill.  I was asked for my email, and typed in my work email address, with anticipation and excitement.

Work resumed Friday and I plugged through, with my Dad's heart surgery on my mind.  Saturday afternoon, I received a catalyzing call.  My contract was terminated and the Friday I had worked was my last shift.  My things would be boxed for me to pick up from the agency.  I would turn in my badge, and I was asked to not contact the company.

I made friends and met people I really respected, and a farewell isn't a courtesy I can offer in my gratitude.  I only hope showing up authentically was something I did consistently, and that they saw my love and admiration in our interactions.

It's not even two weeks until Christmas.  I'm a single mom that doesn't get help from my kid's Dad.  I get to figure this out.

My first step was to apply for unemployment.

The next was to reach out to friends that may know of an opportunity.

The step after that was to start searching for a job.

The one that came next was to realize the gravity of the gift that I've been handed.

I spent the last few months at a company that paid me like they didn't care to keep me.  I had been passively looking for a better opportunity.  My kids are about to be on vacation from school.  My Dad will need more support since he had surgery, and I will be okay because everything happens the way it's supposed to at the perfect time for it to.  I will need to be available.  Unemployment won't cover all of my needs but it will do enough that I will be okay.  And I get to expect to receive better than I had accepted.

I felt gratitude for spending months around people I genuinely liked and powerful business women I admired.  I had a moment of quiet reflection on the men that worked there that gave me pleasant moments of eye candy admiration.  I may even miss those moments of turning a corner to almost crash into Mr. Insanely Tall and Beautiful.  (Really, a girl can't always handle that much hotness on such short notice.) I felt a little sad that I never told him that his fan club prefers it when he doesn't shave his face so cleanly.  I appreciated the fact that while it was normal to walk in on someone crying in the bathroom from the stress, it was never me.  I genuinely loved what I did and that's not something everyone can say.

Day 3 Dawns early with getting my older two off to school.  I get back in bed to snuggle my youngest and breathe in the soft smell of the tear free shampoo we still use.  Waves of anxiety and peace wash over me and the result is an exhaustion that settles over me throughout the day.

I don't have a job.  My Dad just had heart surgery.  My artistic/autistic son wants me to spend about $200 on 24 gray Copic markers and I choose to do whatever it takes because I want to support his dreams.  Existence is exhausting.

I finally finished decorating my tree and pulling out my little Lemax Christmas village.  I've already unwrapped that latest present to myself.  I clear away the tiny snails and algae that was stopping the flow of water in my pond, and I look at the rose bush that hasn't had the pruning or deadheading I was planning in the spring, but also neglected this fall.  And then there was the sunset.  I worked through the season change in a room without windows to easily look out of, and I was only catching sunset with intention on the weekends.  Today when puttering around the house I've neglected for work, I was caught off guard by the sun setting in the west toward Dodger's Stadium. I stood still and felt my chest rise and fall with my breathing.  I watched the sky shift from yellow to orange and red, then inky blue.  I straightened my posture and the feel of it reminded me that in the last few weeks, I had been slouching again.

I loved what I did, but I was often working through meals and rushing along hallways.  I wasn't stepping in the authority of who I am, but lost to the movements of a zombie with too much thought in my head to intentionally engage outside of myself. That's not how I want to live and it's only now that I'm not, that I can see how I was.

Job hunting has resumed.  I am taking it on like a job, and soon I'll be back to applying from my phone at the beach or on a trail, or in a museum. Throughout the day I was clenching my fist, to then look at my open palm.  It reminded me that I can't receive when I refuse to let go, and holding onto nothing only left crescent shaped nail marks in my palm.  You receive nothing new by holding on.  You cause more pain in refusing to release.  I held my palm up, as if waiting to receive. And I expect to find that miracle.  There aren't any other options.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 6

We get past the good morning texts. The I love you texts.  The I miss you texts.  The what have you eaten and tell me about work texts.  Then we get to the other ways he wants to make his way into my family and life.

He wants to meet my family, and be part of my children's lives.  He plans to meet them when he's back on Christmas Eve.  We pretend jet lag doesn't matter.

Forever is a really long commitment based on a week of communication by text.  I mean, he has no clue if I have halitosis or kill kittens for fun.  Whatever.  In for a penny, you suffer my pound, right? Speaking of, my pictures are all me, but the un-angled real shots are the group ones where I don't have a mirror to preen into.  You see my soft jiggly marshmallow fluff in those.  That's authentic.  But he's only seen my selfies.

I don't remember, but I also don't remember when those details were something I would want to share with someone I just met.  The idea that sex would make me feel like a woman is disrespectful to the boobs that sweat for me, the period cramps that can cripple me and body that has birthed 7 babies.  I don't need a man to make me feel like a woman.  I have a whole body for that.

I like to do these things alone, but I think in general, the point of dating is to discover what you'd like to do together.  Latching onto the idea of the museum we briefly spoke about on the other side of the country with my kids is not my idea of a good time.  My boys hate the idea of leaving the house for a grocery run.  I am not dragging them across country for anything less than a marriage, and even then, I'm not excited about having that letter, talk, and exchange with the ex to be able to do it. Take me to the Huntington Library.  It's on my list and local.

Ever . . . Recently . . . He's inspired a few blog posts.  It's usually only really special men that get my attention and hold it for a while that get to do that.

He wants to prove his love by marrying me, but accidentally called me and couldn't handle that conversation.

A blessing that he couldn't talk to for free, through Google.  Yeah.  The special feelings are coming at me from everywhere.  It feels like a tingle that raises the hair on the back of my neck.

He wants to marry me? I'm not big on shopping for clothes, but I can do some serious damage on an Amazon account, and I should have looked into stock options for Target considering how many vacations I've funded for those shareholders.

Support my blog! Get me more followers and hits.  Oh wait.  He's so supportive.

I think a two week anniversary of when we first started chatting on Okcupid is the perfect time to shop for engagement rings.  Let's cherish our forever based on two weeks of the deep conversations we never have!  He's a keeper.  Totally.

How I am My Father's Daughter

Yesterday I was walking past a Dad with his children.  They were taking turns and jumping onto and swinging from his forearms like he was a living jungle gym.  There was laughter and love and a gentle reprimand to one of his other children to not run through the halls because we were in a building that isn't really a playground.  In that moment I felt so much tenderness for a person I have never met. He reminded me of my Dad and the times I could run at him like he could take all I could dish.  I thought of the times I was on all fours with my children on my back and wrestling with them the way my Dad used to do with me. I walked away remembering the times I would spar with my Dad and he would teach me to block a punch and his love for "tiger claw," which was fierce with his long talon like nails. I remember as a little girl, sitting on the toilet seat and watching my Dad shave his face.  He used to have a mug with soap in it, and use a brush to lather the soap up and slather it on his face.  He would stretch and pull his face in different ways to get a clean shave and I would watch every time.  He would rub Aqua Velva or Old Spice between his hands then slap and smear it on his face and neck.  Then I'd watch him button up his shirt and wrap and tie his tie around his neck.

As I've gotten older, the ideal Dad I imagined gave way to the one I have.  I stopped trying to place the image in my head on top of him.  I realised he has always done what he felt was best for us and he's always shown love, even if it wasn't in the ways I wanted him to. It was my need to put a premium on the love I gave that dictated the value I saw in what I received.  That sounds vague.

I have learned that the ways in which I saw my Dad as not what I wanted are the ways in which his PTSD have shown up as he's struggled with it my whole life and I could see the outward expression of his inner demons.  I can no longer hold him accountable for the way his survival looks.

I get my bravery and courage from my Dad.  He has moments of posturing and trying to assert his dominance.  He does it with any man that wants to spend time with the women in our family.  He says it when he feels the need to meet and approve of any men we might be dating.  It shows up as the choices he makes and the ways we live those choices out.

Yesterday he had heart surgery.  In his 7th decade of lapping our sun, it's his first and he's doing really well considering how epicurean his tastes are.  I was trying to figure out how to be present for him while also living in my authenticity.  I realised I couldn't sacrifice myself for him because I wouldn't be engaged with him.  I would be torn.  I had an office party on Thursday that I went to.  I had a great time.  Once I left, I picked up a few things for my Dad and went to visit him.

He wanted to shave and insisted he could stand over the sink and do it himself.  I saw his gown was stained and helped him change out of it.  He was surprised at my understanding of easing him out of and into a new gown but I reminded him I was hospitalized for a month with the twins I carried as a surrogate mother. I was upside down in the trendelenburg position for a week, eating meals and going to the bathroom in this 45 degree, feet above my head position. Two years later I was hospitalized again for pulmonary embolisms.  I understood his discomfort and how to get him dressed, taking advantage of the way the gowns are created.  I brought him a basin and washcloths and watched him shave.

He relies on a mirror far less than he used to, familiar with the stretch and pull of his face and the ways his skin folds with the wrinkles offered to him through time.  He handed me his razor to swish and shake through the basin of water. He tried washing his hand in the water, and I showed him how effective a damp washcloth could be.  When he was done, I used a fresh, damp washcloth to wipe his face gently.  We talked.  I encouraged him.  He encouraged me.  He wanted donuts but I only carry suckers and I left without one, once I got approval from his nurse. He wanted me to go to work and not wait for him during surgery but visit him after he was out.  He knows my job doesn't pay me when I'm not there to work and he knows I need to care for his grandsons.

During his surgery I was having a hard time focusing on work.  I was present.  I was engaged, but it was easy to rabbit trail my thoughts else where.  I hoped the boys could have stayed with their Dad so I could spend more time with mine, but they couldn't and in accepting the situation I was in, I saw that this forced my visit to last exactly as long as it needed to for my Dad's post op. I checked on my kids, and picked up my sister to go see our Dad.

He was tilted in the way he needed to be.  He was starved and able to eat but only in that position, so I fed him.  Bite by bite, I have to admit it was more satisfying than feeding a baby that is learning with solid foods.  I helped him find his things as he was moved and had no control over where his belongings were. He was on really good drugs and not really aware of his limitations or why he needed to have them. I helped him get situated and after a short while we left.

There was something so humbling about helping him because I have always seen him as a powerful man.  It was a moment of being able to give him my love in a way that was an offering and not a request of his.  It felt like a gift to be able to offer my love through service and have it received so completely.

While life still happens at the speed of existence, I was still able to jump from conversation to conversation with catfish and real men alike.  I was able to paper tiger through work orders and purchase orders in the magic that is my pre-invoice.  Facing and correcting errors created during my training. I was able to be mom and sister and daughter, and I was gifted with being able to support the man who has made me the woman I am today.  I'm often asked how I'm doing because that is how we reach out to others with minimal risk.  It was a great day to be me, and this is what it looks like.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 5

These are texts from December 16, and to recap, I met this man on an online dating site.  We started chatting through their messenger, and then through text, but he had to leave his home in Beverly Hills to work in Brazil for a couple of months.  We now talk through Google Hangouts but these men also like Kik, Viber and any other sites where they are using an app.  They've never used an iPhone and their calls are brief if they even call. They usually can't call and I'm slightly amazed at the difficulty in getting a call from international business people who would in theory call people as part of their work flow. It's a 9 hour flight to the obscure city he's in, but as a point of reference, it's not too far from Rio de Janeiro.  I know how to look up a map which is fun when they start talking about places they live. Since there's no way he could possibly see me right now, he's making sure I'm emotionally connected to him and only him.  He promises to come see me for Christmas though.  I will spare you the many times I'm asked about work, or what I'm eating or the ways he expands on the details of my life I have shared.  There's a definite schedule to our communications.  It's early morning until about noon, typically. Then it drops off until much later (almost like a whole 9 hours because he talks to me like he is working all day, but then drops off like he has a shift he really can't text through).

He's my good morning texter and I'm grateful that he's learning I don't need that to be at 5 in the morning.  He's established himself as the earliest texter because normal men try to keep it much more casual.  Like annoyingly casual.  Like I know that phone is in your hand, and you saw what I had to say, and yet your brief reply needs a day and a half to marinate and form.  Your disinterest is calculated or you really suck at multiple conversations at once.  They also freak out if you say more than you like them and want to hang out in the first month and a half.

Being punctual helps with his schedule for me, and his language still gets me.  I mean, he grew up in New York but hasn't once said it was "a mad boring flight." He has lived in LA for years and his "resume work daily" is the sound of a foreigner applying natural language rules to the unnatural craziness of English.

The hustle is what he knows and that is how he connects to me.  He asks a lot about what I do, when my breaks are, will I get in trouble for texting him.  He notices the spaces when I ignore him because I'm in a meeting or training someone else.  The distance means a 20 minute car ride but I steal the hour to clear my thoughts.  If he were really someone I could see growing a relationship with, I would insist on a call during my car ride because my car has an awesome hands free system for calls.

Babe.  Miss you.  How's work.  I could never get lost in his depth.  That makes me sad.

Food.  And watching a picture of me while he eats.  This doesn't say creepy at all.  Again he's connecting through things that hardly matter because he's really trying to matter.  If I feel like he's interested in my minutiae, then maybe he's the only one that cares for me and I'd better keep him close to me.

Maya Angelou once wrote that jealousy is like salt.  A little can enhance the savor.  Too much spoils a meal.  I see it as insecurity.  The lack of confidence is not sexy.  It's clingy and vile. Don't do this.  Real or fake, clingy insecurity, jealousy and possession are a major turn off.  Besides, would you want a prisoner, or a person that doesn't need you but chooses you? I'd always prefer to be a choice.

Love sick puppy willing to country hop can sound fun.  But I've never met him.  That's a lot of pressure and a whole lot of creeptastic going on right there.

The amazing thing about smartphones is they come with world phones.  It's two taps for me to see his time and it looked like 4 in the morning.  I shouldn't have a better idea of your time zone than you do.

He might not do this for any other person but he follows a scripted pattern that others have already done.

I was bored, so I thought I'd have him remind me of his story before seeing if I could pick it apart.

If you ask any other American that lived through the 9/11 terror attacks, they could tell you exactly what they were doing.  I was on bedrest with Kid1.  I was asleep when my ex called to see if I could tell him what was on the news.  I was confused about him telling me what had just happened because I was watching the second plane live.  I couldn't imagine the same accident happening twice and I couldn't understand that it was done on purpose.

He claims to be American. He would have lived through it. I felt rage at this point.

Earlier this week he said he was close to marriage and she died.

Forever seems so long.  I give this one another week or two at the most.

I'm really great at lying through text.  See what I did there?

He wants to marry me, and can't tell that I used song lyrics on him.  *Epic Facepalm, just short of bruising*

This tells me he'll pop the question in less than 7 days.  Will he ask for a gift card, money, a phone, cash a check he'll have mailed to me, use a credit card . . . They possibilities are endless but these are the usual.

Yes, he thinks I would want to go through diapers and sleepless nights and the cost of a child with someone I have just met and started talking to for 5 days.

I offer many opportunities for them to slow down a bit.  They never do.

Isolation looks like a hunger for love and acceptance.  He's hoping by Christmas I will see him as family and worth every hard earned penny I would otherwise use on my kids.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 4

Day 4 is where the fun really starts to begin for my latest catfish.  It starts as a slip, but yes, he's sure he loves me.  After 4 days of texting.  After never having met.  After blowing me off instead of warning me that we would not be able to meet on Wednesday.  But he loves me.

The crazy continues because I have yet to meet him and he would suggest I would let him meet my kids.

Handing out "I love you" like bologna sandwiches at a picnic.  I mean, I love meat.  I'm a total carnivore. I wouldn't go vegetarian for him.  Not for a month, not for a meal, so do I actually love him? Not more than steak.  Maybe more than seeded grapes.  Yes, I love him more than seeded grapes because seeded grapes aren't worth the purchase to me although I like the taste and feel of eating grapes.  Just not the ones with the seeds.

The greatest question is why would I encourage this farce?  I do it all the time and with all of them. Part of me hopes he's just really lonely and hoping for a sincere connection.  He's usually cute enough that I would try to pull out a conversation over dinner.  The larger part of me knows that if he's spinning his wheels trying to get me to bite the bait he's casting, he's not taking advantage of someone that really would do anything for companionship.  I'm looking. I'm motivated to find a relationship. I'm also happy to be alone until it's right. I'm great company to myself. I laugh at my own jokes too.

He's a big baller getting ready to take care of me, and it is supposed to get me comfortable because in theory he will be able and willing to meet my needs.  The rapport we create is supposed to be a two way street.  I'll just end up walking through his dark alley before he sees mine.

I had my office party and ended up staying out later than usual.  These posts go past midnight because my schedule pushed our conversations later than normal. Most of them have a schedule when they usually talk.  Early morning, late at night and either through the morning or afternoon, but never all day every day.  There's always a schedule.

He's used to women jumping for him.  He wanted me home at a certain time and it didn't happen.  His impatience is usually a one way ticket to "No" from me, but I'm working on my blog with him, so I indulge it.

I'm not talking to guys. I'm talking to catfish.  The real me is picky and hasn't actually been on a date in months.  No one asks me out, but I kinda like it that way sometimes.  Usually.

He's not trying to look jealous but he does look like he's trying to make sure I'm alienated and motivated to do all he asks of me.

No.  He won't meet my boys.  He still wants to alienate me and wants to make sure I have no other romantic interests.  I have my mirror though. Maybe I should warn him that my self love is insane and he has me to compete with.

I almost feel sorry for the catfish's past lovers.  You wouldn't believe how many of them have died tragically. Don't worry, he has a happy ending.

I've met genuine widowers and none of them are this flippant.  I threw up a little in my mouth when I read this.  You are justified in being disgusted.

I know.  I'm amazing. I would be in love with me too.  You know what else I can't always get off my mind? Stress.  Fear.  Indigestion because of a wheat mishap.  I don't love those things.  It's not a crush or infatuation.  Even after 4 whole days.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 3

Day 3 is when my latest catfish and I were going to try to meet up.  Sort of. They never will actually meet you, but they want you to feel like that meeting is right around the corner. I had other plans and had no intention of waiting around for him to show up for me. The conversation kept going into the slight but maybe likely possibility that I would get to meet him after work.  It was Wednesday and I wouldn't have my kids, so I could meet for coffee or dinner before he flies out for Brazil.  In theory.  I actually ended up keeping Kid3 and took him to a holiday party with friends instead.

I'm still amused that he's trying to pretend to be from New York/California with his word choice.  

Notice the timestamps? I reached out on my way to pick my son up, and he waited a few hours to respond.  

It was after 10 and he was trying to suggest we might still meetup.  Honestly, if you're going to blow me off, at least be considerate that I might have other ways to spend my night.  But I knew I'd never meet him.  It's not how a catfish operates.

The difference with a catfish from most online perverts is he wants to prolong the game.  He won't bring up sex unless you do.  He'll keep it respectful to stay in your good graces.  He will make sure you understand he's hard working and he needs you to be patient for him because your payout is a good man that knows how to take care of himself and is willing to extend that to you.

I spared you all of the ways he can't do without me.  He feels special because of my attention and expects that if he mirrors what he wants me to feel, I'll feel it.  He really is sorry that we couldn't meet because of circumstances outside of his control.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 2

Day 2, December 13, 2016 I'm breaking up my days into the standard Midnight to Midnight format that most of us follow and posting texts per day.

Good morning comes well before I wake because he needs to be the first person on my mind. Even at 5. I'm a light sleeper so I look, ignore and try to sleep a bit longer.

We talk about our lives and he tells me about his work. It's exciting and the opportunities are always huge and impressive. The work he's about to do always has a huge payout.  Once it was a man leaving town to be with his relative that was alone and in need.  He was going to be a hero and needed my support after he was beaten and robbed in a city he doesn't call home,.

My interest in a country I've never been to gives him the opportunity to suggest an Aladdin opportunity to show me the world. Never mind the fact that we just started talking the day before and under any other circumstance this would just be creepy. Well, it is creepy.

He's establishing the fact that he will be gone but not for long. It's enough of a breadcrumb trail that I might want to support a long distance relationship for a short while. He has no clue that I pass on military men about to retire in two months that want to find a wife and have much more husbandly promise because I want company this week.

This is where it starts to get really sweet. He's laying it on thick enough to give me cavities and I begin to troll my catfish right back.  I pretend I don't know the difference between infatuation, lust, love and connection.  I let him believe I'm not self aware enough to know how I feel about myself and what I want and am willing to sacrifice in my life. I pretend I might be in love with him, rather than being in love with falling in love.  I act as if he has all I need and that I'm not at all creeped out because I need what he's selling.

Typically he lives on his own in a lonely city with few and far family in another state or country. When he inevitably needs my help, he'll need me because we've been talking two weeks and his family... Well, they can't help the successful man I've fallen in love with that is usually the one helping them.

Day 2 and he wants us to meet each other's families. Day 2 and he wants me to fly across the country with him. Day 2 and we have yet to nail down a meeting for coffee and dinner. I went to New York once. It was a trip I funded to take my ex boyfriend to see the family he missed.  We were together for over a year and a half and I didn't see all I wanted to see.  When I go back to the Big Apple, it's very likely going to be a solo trip.

Monday after being a daughter for a few hours after a full work shift, I got to my kids around 9. My mom surprised us with a Christmas tree. It's not a big deal for her because she drives a minivan.  I drive a 2016 Toyota Camry and I had 3 kids.  I wasn't up to strapping the tree to the roof, so I put down the back seat and shoved it in the trunk and through the car.  My kids squished in alongside it.  My boys were angry that they had to wait so long at Grandma's house and they weren't feeling helpful. I got home, and I threw an 8 foot tree over my shoulder and carried it down a flight of stairs after fighting it out of my trunk. I put it on the tree stand and made sure it was straight. I dragged it into place, all alone because I am a badass and wanted to give the boys space for their anger. My only help was Kid3 closing the gate behind me.  I really don't want more kids although I miss being pregnant sometimes and a man that changes my mind about that will have magic dust stowed away somewhere. I've been a single mom with a husband that parented from the couch.  I need to see how amazing he is as a Dad before I'll even consider kids with someone else, and my usual gut reaction to the question of "Do you want more kids?" is "Hell the Fuck No." So here, I was totally trolling him.

I'm not nice.  I've said this, right? The plan for tonight is we're trying to meet up.  I expect him to flake and have other plans anyway.

If it sounds too good to be true, he's probably a catfish.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 1

Day 1 - December 12, 2016 I have been online dating on and off since May. I have also lost track of how many times I've been catfished. My expectations for online dating are really low, and this time I jumped back in with the intent of finding a catfish.  I just put myself on a not super incognito assignment.  My blog is directly in my dating profile.  I also include the fact that I will share really tasteless texts with friends.  I don't mention there's a whole Facebook album, but if they really wanted to date me, they would probably check me out.  They follow similar patterns and as I was approached online by someone today that was practically reading a familiar script, I thought I would over think this for you.

First, he's someone I would date. He's between 35 and 49 (only if he's ridiculously beautiful). He looks much younger than the age he claims is his. He's got hair I can imagine running my fingers through or he's bald. I don't know what it is with bald heads, but I'm not complaining. He has laugh lines and salt and pepper hair.  He's more tan than deathly pale, but more likely to burn than tan under the sun. He's tall and has a great smile. His body isn't much softer than mine. I prefer it when he loves his body as much as he wants me to.  He might be a runner or into Crossfit, but he's definitely not surfing the couch most days. I don't really care about grammar and spelling because there's a chance he speaks Italian or German or French or Hebrew or Arabic. I'm picky but I'm not. I'm charmed by the variance in his word choice. He usually makes the first move beyond matching because I love it when a man knows what he wants and what he wants looks like me. I'm not picky about tattoos but he doesn't have any. There's probably a catfish credo about being appealing to most single women over 35.  They live in Beverly Hills or Santa Monica or Culver City but they're out of town for work.

This one had a picture that looked like any all American blonde adonis.

A few have been engineers. I've met businessmen that buy and sell minerals. They are archeologists. They are street planners in rural areas of America. They are airline pilots. They work in fields where years of schooling or luck, intuition and entrepreneurial grit have have given them financial comfort. All that's missing is a partner in love.

They want to know what my connections are. Will I have someone to answer to? Is there an angry clan that has my back? Am I close to my family or am I so lonely that I would do my very best to please him or help him when he runs into some terrible situation.

Working independently of a solid location means they travel. They want to take you with them. When they can, of course. But this also means they'll get stuck in a precarious situation that only the love of their life, that they met two weeks ago can bail them out.

They want to know what you do and how much you make. They want to know if you can take care of their needs and see it as helping each other out, but they ask first. Even before you've ever met or spoken on a phone and you will probably never meet in person.

This one actually broached the topic of being scammed. This doesn't usually happen, but he needed to gauge what he was working with.

Back to the question of how I will support him. He starts talking about vacation, suggesting the notion that he wants me to go with him. I may be thinking a local coffee shop after work, but he's hoping I will love the idea of an Aladdin type magic carpet ride.

Again, we talk of the cat fish. He's looking out for me. I can see this, right?

I thought the conversation would stop here, but hours later he started chatting again.

.

He talks about the city I have always lived in as if it's a foreign place to me, but when I ask where he is, he takes the time to come up with an answer I'm almost certain a map search provided. Actually, the Virginia Robinson Gardens is a stop on my "go-do-be-see" list. It's on Elden Way. You should check it out. 

There's something in his text that doesn't sound like New York or Cali.  He says "Mum" instead of "mom." His phrases are off a bit because he's not a native speaker, so I ask to give him the opportunity to come up with something solid.

He sticks to his story and then this happens:

The conversation goes back to the bread crumb hope that he will see me soon.  Soon is always a week or two out but never actually happens.

More to come.  Will you be reading?

Finding My Girlie Side

Earlier this week I was walking to Subway with a co-worker.  This is the same man that earlier this month asked, "Have you always been an alpha female?" We got to the restaurant and I opened the door, gesturing for him to go ahead of me.  It's what my Dad did for me, so it was natural for me to do it for someone else.  But then, he refused.  He refused to allow me to hold the door open for him in a gesture that was (unintentionally) emasculating to him. I don't do things like this on purpose. It's who I am, and it's who I have become. It feels empowered, but it also has a really uncomfortable feeling.  It feels like equality in a way that scares many men away from me.  It feels like men are afraid of a misstep in saying or doing something that would offend me.  This fear irritates me more than a benign and accidental sexist comment would. About a month ago,  I had four men in a row ask me to bend them over and own them with a strap on.  (Online dating adventures.) The idea has never excited me. It's not sexy to me.  It's not about domination.  It's just not my jam to jam . . . Anyway.  One of those men . . . the beautiful one with blue eyes asked me what I like about submissive men.  I realized I don't, and he was the last to approach me in that way.

I want to be girly, but it's something I get to learn to get used to. I get to decide what that will look like to me. The man that has my attention right now has been stretching my comfort zone in this way lately.  He's pretty amazing and his approach to my independence doesn't make me feel defiant. He is more patient than most and his nudges don't feel like pressure but more like he's taking the lead in our dance.  Can I follow his lead? It's not a question of do I want him to lead.  I do. That's been decided.

A big part of me wants a dominant man that is intelligent and not controlling.  As I experience leadership through him, submission isn't a dirty word or uncomfortable feeling.  It would feel like sliding into a warm bath.  It would feel like I could trust him and his decisions because I know he would hold and value my insight.  His love would be freedom rather than burden.  He would be able to enroll me in the idea that my life would be better if I keep him in it.  He would be someone I would want to meet my kids and my family.

This really special man is in a different time zone for work right now, and the other night he woke up early to chat before I fell asleep but he had plans to go back to sleep because he was only getting up early to wish me a good night.  (Yes, he's that sweet.) He was surprised that I was out alone so late at night.  It was just after 10, and he insisted on staying up until he knew I made it home safely.  I've had my big sister and my Dad express concerns for my many solo explorations, but I brush them off because they tend to wake up my inner teenager that says she can stay up all night just to prove something.  But here he was, only staying up to make sure I made it in okay.  He didn't demand I go home, but only let me know he would wait to make sure I was okay.  The craziness is I wanted to be home so he didn't worry.  There's something in the way he makes me feel that today I was content to stay home and do housework and catch up on paperwork and filing at home.  I didn't feel driven to go and do and be, though there will be a hiking trip tomorrow morning.

Naturally, you'd want to draw conclusions to my marriage.  I would expect that with the nature of this blog, but It's not worth comparing.  It's a different situation. I started sneaking out of the house at midnight with Kid1 because I couldn't sleep.  I would go to a CVS or Walgreens in North Hollywood and read greeting cards until I had giggled or cried silently enough to feel sleepy.  My ex was bothered at first.  I needed the space and the release. Two years ago I was taking the train to work and home, with a dangerously unreliable car.  I would call or text on my way home and he wasn't as concerned for my safety as I was. I would go to night classes with a stun gun my Dad gave me and return home with him asleep.  Not worrying about me became our normal, so having someone worry about me again is new, and it's uncomfortable, but I want to get used to it because it also feels special.

It's not fairy tale territory.  I remember seeing my sister's normal looked like her husband would take her car and fill up the gas tank or get her car washed.  He helped around the house and he became the parent that was available and supported her through medical school.  He was and is the perfect person for my sister and their marriage still inspires me to hope and dream for a romance that will inspire really great words that borrow from my reality, rather than help me escape from it.

I'm still trying to figure out where my femininity lies.

Is it in allowing someone else to open a door for me? Once at work, I held open the door for a man entering the building when I did because I didn't notice the other half of the double door he was already holding for me. I'm in the habit of opening doors rather than allowing them to be held open for me.  I think I had a date or two that started the night opening the car door for me, but then I got back into the habit of opening my own door.  Yes, some men will make it a point to go to the passenger's side just to hold a door open even though their key fob unlocks it and makes getting in pretty easy.

Is it accepting and not chafing at the idea that someone would worry about me being a woman alone at night? I live alone half the time and I'm used to coming home alone.  I'm used to going out to eat alone in restaurants. The only thing keeping me from late night beach trips lately is the cold.  It's ordinarily my normal, but to accept someone else would worry about me more than I worry about me is to step into the protection of someone else's concern. It's accepting his comfort is more important than my freedom and independence but that also comes from the confidence he fosters in me.

Who I am is the person that doesn't see a problem as an obstacle but a puzzle I get to solve.  I can handle fixing things by calling a repairman.  I can swap out an electrical outlet or other small repairs around the house. I actually love being able to work with a power drill, though I have a healthy fear/respect for circular saws and I'm a badass with a hammer. I don't get to fret, hang in there, or hold up.  I handle what comes my way because there is no one else that is captain of my ship.  But what would making space for someone else's leadership look like?

My sexuality is more dominant and powerful than it has ever been but I like it this way.  If anything, I feel femininity is embracing sexual power.  It's not about controlling others with sex, but feeling like I'm aware of what feels good to me and I'm not afraid of what it feels or looks like.  It's about knowing what men fantasize about and acknowledging there's nothing wrong with having my fantasies, independent of what their interpretation of me should be.

A friend of mine likes to suggest I should be a shoes or a purse kind of woman.  I'm really not.  I like nice things, but I rarely will go out of my way for purses or shoes.  I like jewelry, but rarely shop for myself. I hate clothes shopping.  I like to shop, just not for clothes or accessories.  My last manicure ended up in polish that peeled off of my nails because housework happened and soapy water lifted the polish off like thick stickers.  I didn't get mad because I enjoyed the massage.  I'm not sure I'm ready to step into the materialistic domain of femininity.

The rest is something I get to figure out slowly.  Deliberately.  Intentionally.  And stretching gracefully.  It doesn't feel natural, but it is a gender I was born into. It's not normal because I have to learn a new way to be. Earthquakes are both natural and normal, but that doesn't make them welcome or insignificant.  Are earthquakes feminine too? I can imagine that.

Honoring Mom on the Day You Were Born

Last week my youngest son hit the double digits.  I have a ten year old.  In his adorable attempt to milk it for full value, he kept saying, "come on mom, it's my birthday weekend." I pointed out that the day he was born was kinda a big deal for me too. Ten years ago we were at day 3 of moving into the house I share with the boys now.  I was unpacking boxes and felt like I needed to rest. An hour later I thought getting checked out would be a good idea. It was a short walk up the stairs to the car but I kept stopping with the contractions.  The drive to the hospital was less than 15 minutes, but every bump on the road felt intensely painful and within an hour or so after I was admitted, he was born.  It was a 3 push pass and it was good.  He shot out like a little 7 pound, one and a half ounce football. He was my easiest labor.

I mean yes, I was still in the process of moving, but a human came out of me.  It's not like I could go to the mall later that day, or even go home that night. It was a big deal.  He and I worked together to push him out of my body.  He had to figure out how to breathe air but there was a second birth while he was being cleaned and worked on.  My uterus had to shrink back to the size of a pear and it complained every time I nursed him in the first weeks.  Laughing and walking were painful and messy.  Everything leaks after a child is born.  It was and is still such a big deal that in my busy-ness of mothering him last week, this post waited until I had the space to write.  I expect this to continue long after he's an adult if my life as an adult is any indication.  I still rely on the continued love and support of my family, starting with my parents.

A friend of mine celebrated her first born's 17th birthday yesterday.  I stopped by her desk at work to congratulate her. As a mom, my care started the moment I realized there was a life inside of me, growing independent of me.  I wanted to acknowledge the fact that she was able to get him past his infancy. She got through his sicknesses and moments where he looked at her defiantly and said, "I hate you."  She got him through the seasons when she had to defend the indefensible behaviors of a father that didn't always remember how to be a Dad.  She kept food on the table and clothes on the backs of her children, with the judgements that come with being a single mom.

Being a parent is hard enough.  Every other person has ideas of how you should raise your children, but when you're a single parent, you make compromises that you never want to make because you have to weigh and balance what you have. Sometimes these judgements are a bigger gift than a consequence though. I try to remain coachable.

My most recent example . . . I chose a job that is 9-6, so I can send my boys off every morning that I have them.  I chose a job not far from home, so I'm not spending my time with them in traffic on my way home and angry because of it.  Christmas is here, and my kids have bought into their commodification completely.  It was their birthright in the life we had two years ago and I would like to hold some traditions.  I have been working overtime this week.  Yay for doing better than I was.  Last year I was a welfare mom, buying my kids a dollar store Christmas.  This year I'm using credit and next year, it'll be cash.  At the same time, my kids don't have me home to ignore me while they play their games and decide they don't want the dinner I made, or barely made in my exhaustion because they should have but don't always choose to eat at Grandma's house.  I had a couple of people mention my failure, and it sparked a conversation. By the unanimous decision of my offspring, I will skip the overtime when I have them, and they will expect less for Christmas.  I have amazing boys because even when they ignore me, they prefer to have me around. And they have amazing Grandmothers that care enough to call me out even though they faced the frustration and anger that their input unleashed.

My point is, for as long as we have our kids, we will celebrate them, but do you realize what it means for the moms that carry those humans and get them through each lap around the sun?

We feel what it is to have our hearts removed from our bodies and forced to survive independent of us.  We nurture them and care for them in a way that makes us want to hold them closer while the natural order of life dictates that they will always move further from us until they no longer need us, but will hopefully honor and love us by choice.  We make the hard decisions because they are the right decisions.  We know that one day they'll understand the choices we make, but we hope that day comes soon because the emotional pain is often too much to stand when we know we must stand silently in our choices and hope time's lesson is gentle and complete. We stand in silence at injustices we know need to happen, and we fight fiercely when that is what we are called to do, brushing off our accomplishments as motherly duty.

Moms are badass.  When that birthday of yours comes around, don't forget to thank your mom.  Even if you were given up for adoption, you were given an opportunity. Even if you have baggage and childhood pain, you're here.  YOUR EXISTENCE IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. You get to be here. You get to do better.  You get to create the life you want.  You have the opportunity to see every painful moment as a way you needed to learn and grow. And you get to remember you weren't the only one affected by your birth.

Sometimes A Person's Best Offering Isn't Enough

In spring of 2006 I was still majoring in geology, so I was still struggling through college level algebra.  I was newly pregnant with Kid3 and exhausted with my full college course load.  I took out a student loan.  I opened a checking account without telling my ex or at the time my husband.  Without getting permission I did this secretly and he found a receipt.  Most of that loan went to groceries, but I knew what I had done was wrong by the laws of our marriage and I knew it was an act of rebellion from the way our finances were controlled and handled.  I knew my email accounts would be searched next and I was freaking out.  I just had a venting session by email with a really great friend, and realized my ex was in the process of uncovering one of my lies.  I had my friend go into my email account and change my password. I didn't at the time see this as financial abuse. Venting was about frustration, but it was also about my not trusting him to be able to handle or address my frustrations.  I didn't trust him to do what I wanted, and never gave him the opportunity to prove he could.  It's not something I would suggest.  I was a faithful wife, but not necessarily obedient.  And I'm still figuring out what normal and healthy look like.

In my frantic call and the fear I felt over the situation, this friend of mine was that voice of reason.  He pointed out the many ways my life was crazy and he did it in love.  I remember saying to him, "I know he's giving me his very best but I know that will never be good enough for me." That was a profound moment for me and it was followed by a choice.  Knowing I felt this way, I decided my marriage was a choice that I would keep choosing.  I decided I could find ways to be fulfilled and do what made me happy.  Without trying to upset him, I chose to find little victories for myself while still being his wife.

Today I was talking to a co-worker and friend.  I brought up that idea again.  You should hold it a minute.  There will be people in your life that offer you their very best, and you get to recognize that the best they can offer is still never going to be good enough for you. This has become an old concept for me that really strengthens my resolve to learn to love unconditionally.  I want to give from my heart without attaching a price to that love because some people could never afford it, but what happens when my perspective shifts a bit?

I find myself shattered and humbled because I really appreciate the concept that I will offer my best to someone and it won't be a shadow of what they have earned through the patience and love offered to me. I'm often trying to pay attention to what my physical reaction to a person is, and I carefully look at how they treat those around them, but to someone else,  I'm held under that same critical gaze and not measuring up.

As harsh as that may be, I'm at peace with it.  I had another friend ask if it would be okay to post a picture of me.  She wanted me to see it and get my approval. I don't really care.  For the most part, people will love or hate me (there's rarely anyone that falls in between) and it won't matter because I love me and I love how I look.

I was having this moment of doubt and fear as I'm standing in the idea of what it feels like to accept someone's attention.  I'm feeling the stretch and pull of what it means to consider a relationship that is meant to grow beyond company.  It's not love I'm afraid of.  It's the idea of feeling profound and deep love again and having it disappear.  It's the idea of falling in love and planning a future and having that fall through.  It's being vulnerable so I'm no longer in control and rejecting others.  It's being in a space of accepting that I might be rejected.

Do I run? Of course not.

I face my doubt and fear head on.  I live each moment in the moment, without latching on to the past or grasping for a future.  I exist for the sake of breathing and nothing in love exists beyond that. One day it may take me so far away from solid ground that I will be lost and I get to remember to stay afloat.  I will love fully, without expecting anything in return as a barter and I will embody unconditional love.  This is how I face that fear.  This is how I embrace what could be.

Walking Like A Confident Mom Should

I walk like a Mom.  I've been told more than once that I walk like a model but I've never modeled.  It's about getting to where I need to be.  This has been a thing for others for a while, and I've written about taking a step before. I've mommed.  It's a simple gait . . . I remember months ago when I was first starting to wear high heels after years of being barefoot or in flats.  I had to decide I had the confidence and once I did, my muscles no longer had to make up for my insecurities. I had to decide that I was confident enough to walk the way I do.

It's a mom walk.  I can teach you.   One foot in front of the other, hips sway in the imbalance of it.  Usually I walk quickly, but slowing down means I often lead with my hips a little more. I smile and make eye contact.  I'm friendly. I strike hard with my heel, certain of my footing. If you need further instruction, you're over thinking it.  It's not something you mechanically do.  It's an extension of the empowerment I embody.

It helps to have a mirror session.  Look at yourself in a mirror.  Really look at yourself.  Make up or clean face.  At your current weight which is perfect once you decide it is.  Look hard. Look brazenly.  Decide that you are beautiful and strong and powerful.  Then step back and start walking.  As you walk, remember that your veins carry the life force forged in the DNA of warriors before you.  No one's family has survived as an accident.  My birthright means I have the blood of women that have fought and lived, not as survivors of their situation, but as women who learned to thrive because of them. In spite of them.

Dating sometimes makes me feel like my dates believe they are owed something in exchange for taking me out and paying for a meal.  I often feel like I need to explain that affection is not an obligation because I agreed to coffee.  I know that my time is a gift. If I had a going rate, most couldn't afford my smile.

My smile was always a thing to hide behind when I was younger.  For years my smile was gone.  I recently had a random text and that text put a smile on my face that let me know I wasn't smiling just before it, and that is rare lately.  That moment was me in the middle of a gnarly purchase order and a disorganized project I had to sort through. That man sent that text and I felt a huge difference.  I don't expect any more of his texts, but I have my walk.  This walk boosts my confidence and my smile tends to cheer others up too.

The cost of my smile means being so confined and crushed emotionally that there was a shell filled with broken pieces.  It costs the insomnia I lived through and crying myself to sleep many nights.  It costs choosing being alone over being in the wrong relationship. It costs figuring out life instead of indulging in a midlife crisis and finding empowerment through that.  It means begging for a feeling I couldn't name and finding indescribable joy in knowing that I don't have to be who I was. The cost of my smile was to be so solidly held as valuable to only one man in a shallow existence and being rejected so hard that the only deliverance was to discover true self love.

My smile is a promise to a new life and more joy than I thought I had a right to. It's the hint to the secret of the wonder I feel when I stand in the sun or smell a fresh orange with its peel intact and living in each moment as if every single breath matters.  It's knowing that my smile can brighten someone else's day and the odds of hearing it's a beautiful smile are fairly good. It's not knowing my worth, but understanding I am worthy.

I walk and I smile and a lot of days, this walk down the block on a busy street are all I need to fill my cup and recharge.

Can You Trust in Online Dating?

I'm a bit jaded lately.  I had a moment in the ladies room at work. It was a moment of conversation and connection and it was a moment where I was completely transparent with a co-worker and felt she was just as open with me.  We talked about a few things, and one of those is trust. Can I trust you with this?

I left work and got in my car and turned the key in the ignition.  I expected it to start and it did.  I expected it to get me home because I can trust my car and my (many) years of driving experience to get me home.  I hear a thud from the trunk and I expect it to be the water bottle I never opened from my last hike, because I trust no one has left a body in my trunk (although there's enough room).  I get home and put my key in the door and I expect the door to be locked, but open because I used my key on the locks I changed myself.  I flip on the lights and I expect them to come on.  I trust the things I rely on but people are different.

I've had drug testing for a job where there were protocols in place.  I had to lock my belongings in a locker, enter a bathroom alone and with no personal belongings and pee in a cup.  It was odd.  I had a different drug test where a woman literally watched me pee in a cup. I've had 6 pregnancies, many of which were in learning hospitals. I'm not shy and there was no potty time performance anxiety.  It was odd, but I was okay.  The woman watching me told me about devices and contraptions people come up with.  I imagine if you get paid to watch people pee, you must be paid for your distrust. I'm boring enough that I don't do drugs and even spent Thanksgiving weekend sober because I didn't feel like drinking.

There are many things I trust, and rarely people.  That was my point, right? Only, it's not entirely true.  I proved it in the bathroom at work today and most of the time when I'm completely transparent with others.  When I was younger, my friends knew I would tell them more than they ever wanted to know. I share what is on my heart and in my mind because I don't hide from my truth anymore. I'm especially up front with my feelings lately. The gift of humanity is the intricate array of emotions we can feel and the myriad words of expression we have at our disposal to relate and connect with others. I'm working on using them. When I'm in touch with my emotions enough to know what I feel, it would be a disservice to myself to lie about it. It's not my job to help others feel better about how I feel.  It's enough to lay it out.  Isn't it? See, I'm in this space of genuine doubt.

In blogging, I try to keep the focus on me.  You might hear a bit about my kids, or one of my obsessive observation moments, but for the most part, you get my interpretation of the life I get to live.  In that way, I don't know what to trust you with and if I'm violating the things I've been trusted with.  I want to someday write a book about my surrogate pregnancies, but I haven't figured out the lines between what is my story and where it steps on the privacy of the families I helped grow.

When I was younger, my Dad promised a horse back riding trip that he kept putting off.  Over 30 years later and as a grown ass woman, I still think of that, and that broken promise keeps me from breaking promises to my kids. At the end of the day, they won't remember what I did as much as what I promised to do and then failed on. That experience comes with a feeling.  I try to not to commit to what I don't want to do.  If my promise is all I can offer, I'd rather it be a beautiful gift, untarnished by failed expectation. Last night I was talking to Kid3 about the value of our word. He volunteered to be punished if he broke his word. I asked, "if you break your word, people will see you as a liar. Isn't that punishment enough that I wouldn't be able to trust you? I think that would hurt enough."

I gave my trust in love more than once.  Being single means the trust I had in the future with the company I gave my heart, then my promise to means it wasn't treasured and I had to dust it off and rebuild again on my own.  It's really hard to trust in romance. Once I decide to love, I'm all in.  There's no holding back as I let my heart do it's thing.  My head always objects, but my heart is stronger than that and I know the risk is always worth taking if he's worthy.  Love is not synonymous with trust. I love my kids but I wouldn't trust them with my candy stash. These men are the ones where I've let them walk away and lick my wounds on my own. I might see him months later, and have an inane conversation about cake that I will never eat because of gluten and he'll never touch because of the sugar.  There will be a moment that almost feels like regret and tastes bittersweet stinging the back of my throat. Or maybe he'll text me in a while to see how I'm doing and I won't mention that my pulse still quickens when he thinks of me randomly and I read his words a few times before replying with something equally non-committal.  I trusted and let go and I'm unwilling to trust again, even if I might really want to.

Online dating has really made my trust stretch in the way where the rubber band has snapped back and the backlash isn't pretty.  I have had people ask for money, or a credit card, or for me to receive, then cash a check. I have had men say hello and the reward for my kindness has been a request for sex or an unsolicited dick pic.  I've taken ownership of this by sharing screen shots with Facebook friends.  They laugh at the stupidity of these boys with me and it is hilarious until it's another Wednesday night and my pickiness . . . my mistrust - has me eating dinner alone again. Then it's just sad. I don't need a relationship but I would love company. I'm really open to company that doesn't feel like my agreement to meet for coffee suggests sex should be part of the night.

It's hard to trust when you don't have a gut check to keep things honest.  It's hard when people hide behind a keyboard and a profile.  It's hard to trust when I know the expectation of meeting someone online means he's already been cast aside because of the car he drives, or the work he does.  I know he's judged harshly for who he is because the good ones are often rejected for dumb reasons (my reasons are dumb, but I'm sticking to the looks one). This means he's probably lashing out in a way that feels powerful to him and in moments when my sadness over the situation screams louder than laughter, I wonder what would drive a man to act so horribly to me. How I choose is if he's beautiful or his pitch grabs my attention, I let it play out for a while.  I try to let him persuade me.  Again, I haven't been on an actual date since June, and I realize that when I like him I look for similarities and it often takes one really dumb phrase for me to start looking for differences.

The takeaway? I need to just rely on my gut and that means I won't continue looking online. I was walking through Kid3's school this morning.  I was dropping off cupcakes for his birthday tomorrow.  I think people at work have become immune to the way I walk, but at my son's school, I again remembered what affect that has had on people. People admire or hate the way I walk.  There is no in between space. As I left the school and headed out for the day, I intentionally walked around without music in my ears.  I smiled at others and had friendly greetings offered.  I'm still intimidating, but I think less so when I don't shut people out with my sound barrier. Either way, I want a different result, so I'm ready to try something new, and give another shot at this trust thing.

Tonight I'm taking a hard look at the men that have gotten my attention recently.  I want to really appreciate what attracted me to them and what called out to me enough to allow them to get under my skin.  I want to really understand what kept me from trusting them completely, because I know I didn't.  I need to fix that.  They're gone and I don't expect a return to their orbit because they'd have to recon with my gravity but I believe what is meant for me will always be mine.  I'm not greater than God or the Universe or Destiny.  I can't mess up the great plan that was created for my life or alter it from what is meant to be.  I can release what isn't mine because then I am open to what is.  Whatever that is.  I can be open to trust.