Word of the Day - Deify

A friend of mine, having recently heard from a number of former girlfriends, told me that the women seem to have deified him in their memory. Each enjoyed reminiscing on "the good old days." Even he was aware that he wasn't the great boyfriend being remembered.

It struck a chord with me. After the time apart from my old flame, touching base again, I felt I was going in with eyes wide open. I still enjoyed talking with him, and I'll admit, a "no strings" night of fun from time to time, but finally saw him as he was...imperfect and unattainable, a far cry from the way I saw him while we were together.

But loneliness and dissatisfaction will do a number on a person's memory and emotions. A long conversation and a hot night later, I found my mind wandering. An incredible lover, an amazing motivator, personable and fun and serious when it's called for, so much to offer for the long term - these were all the thoughts rolling around my mind. "What if I..." and "maybe he would..." There my brain goes into the creative area - where movie moments come true and everybody lives happily ever after.

"They all seem to be deifying me, forgetting how and why it ended." He shook me back into reality. I am one of these women, deifying my old flame, instead of remembering how his superficiality broke my heart. He's an incredible lover instead of he's a man who is screwing 3 or 4 different women at a time. He's an amazing motivator instead of a perfectionist who expects no less in others. He has so much to offer for the long term instead of he would never be with me for the long term.

Fantasy and daydreaming are fun, and quite honestly, he is a lot of fun. But I need to keep my head on straight and stop deifying a man that could very easily, if I let him, break my heart over and over again. And he really is a great man, but he's no god.

I Like My Life? Go Figure

When John told me about his successes, and the business he has in the works that will soon bring him millions, I responded "I want your life." He told me he hears that a lot.

I was thinking about it later. As much as I'd like that financial success, I don't really want his life. Not that there's anything wrong with it. He pretty much accomplishes everything he sets out to achieve, he's independent, seems incredibly happy, and he lives the life he wants to be living. Sure, I would like to say those things about myself. But in my life, not his.

I shocked myself when I heard my internal voice saying "I like my life." Holy shit, what's that about? I had the year from hell, with my health. I hate looking at myself in the mirror. There's a struggle between desperately wanting to be in a relationship and not wanting to deal with men at all, not feeling like I'm dating material. And yet, I like my life?

I don't have the big fancy house I want, or even the modest one. But I have my condo, which I've bought, decorated, maintained and made a home on my own.

I don't have a man in my life, and rarely have that spark with the ones I meet. But I do have a few good friends that are there for me and keep me busy with a social life.

I'm not overly wealthy or completely financially secure. But no longer am I struggling, as I used to, and I pay all my bills on time. I never question which bill I should pay, instead of paying them all.

My job is not paying me what I'm worth or what the industry commands. But I've grown in the company and am working towards my own business that will challenge me to get there.

I will spend the rest of my life worrying everytime there's a pain or odd feeling, that cancer will return. But for today, I have no evidence of disease.

I cry, and feel sad and frustrated and angry and confused. But I also laugh. I laugh a lot.

So, if anyone's paying attention out there. I take it back. I don't want his life. I just want to accomplish what I set out to achieve, be happy and independent, and live the life I want to be living, like he does. And I think I'd also ask for the confidence and peace of mind to appreciate the life I have today. I think I'm on my way.

Survivor's Guilt

"In the special case of chronic illness, survivor guilt can occur after the deaths of peers who faced the same diagnosis. By definition, there is an implied comparison with people who have endured similar ordeals."

"Survivor guilt explores the other side of the coin of why me? --namely, why not me? "

"Some survivors may keep a low profile to avoid spotlighting this contrast of outcomes."

"Survivor guilt may exist for a reason...It may help survivors cope with the helplessness and powerlessness of being in a life-threatening situation without the ability to protect or save others."

© 2004 Brain Tumor Society

All About Me

I hate making this all about me but that's where my brain keeps going back. My mom just called me about an hour ago to tell me that my uncle had passed. At first, not a tear, and I wasn't expecting that.

I want to cry for him but when the tears started, it was all about me. My aunt and uncle didn't seem to have such a great marriage, until later on, after the kids were out. They did everything together and flirted and talked about their sex life like they were teenagers. They had their til death do us part. I want that.

And then it really came back to all about me. This could be my "next time." I take for granted that I beat cancer twice already. But did I? Does anyone really beat it or do we just spend the rest of our lives waiting for it to come back? Cancer kills. It may not have killed me yet, but it killed him. What happens when there's no more body parts left to remove through surgery? My chemo was preventative, what if I needed it to save me? It didn't save him.

And they're looking at me now. My mother told me how she's so grateful and gives prayers of thanks to G-d that I survived this, especially after seeing him last week. I fear his family will look at me and wonder why I'm still here and he's not. I don't want anyone looking at me.

But I need to be there and show my aunt and cousins that I'm with them, that I'm just like them, saying goodbye to a family member whom we lost to Cancer. And I need for a moment to be about him and about them and not show them the tears of what this means to me.

Practice

She looks to her left and can only imagine what those women must be thinking. They've got no clue. Grabbing the end of her sleeve into her fist, she uses the back of her hand to wipe the tears away.

Her eyes go back down below, watching her daughter on the ice. A small smile finds its way to the corner of her lips. Not graceful at all, but damn, she's cute.

The big puzzle that has been left unsolved for the past 10 years is finally starting to come together. The pieces still need to be moved around and turned a few times to fit into place. But she's almost there.

"It's not about me, it's about her." That inner voice is speaking, telling her to look in another direction. "He wanted me here. He needed me here for her. He still needs me. She needs me."

Most people question "why me" when something horrible goes wrong. Not her. She questions why she was saved, spared; why she lives to face it again someday. Peace would finally come, if not. The calm she craves more than anything.

Another tear forms, as the blonde figure skates in a circle, trying so hard and smiling at her teacher. That little baby grew into this little person. And she loves and trusts and sees her mommy, and never questions it for a moment. Her daughter has no idea how lucky her mother feels to have her; how happy she makes her and how much more she means to her than to a woman who has carried her child.

But at this moment, this woman realizes that they were gifts to each other. She realizes that He gave her to the child to watch out for her, to be the mommy that she needs, that she deserves. And it was He that saved her, not once but twice, from the disease. The first time to await her birth, the next to continue to protect and guide and love her like no other could. She hopes that one day, should her time no longer be required, her daughter will know what an honor it was to have held that place in her universe.

Daydreams

I thought about what it would have been like to have you there, going through chemo. I didn't let anyone in, and I didn't want anyone to see me. The one time I had someone with me, I squirmed, so upset that I wouldn't have my privacy. But I daydreamed that you were with me.

My mind was fuzzy, as the Adivan normally did to me. But I opened my eyes and looked at you. You smiled that goofy grin, yet said nothing. I tensed up from the butterflies of the adrenaline rush caused by the anti-histamine. You reached your hand onto my shoulder and massaged it, trying to relax me. I look into your eyes as mine start to tear. I blink the tears down to my cheeks as I drift off, once again.

I fade back into reality and feel those same tears rolling down my cheek. If only.

Another Dedication to the Clueless

I am constantly amazed by people who have no clue who they are. Sure, they can rattle off how they describe themselves, what they do for a living, what they want. But so much of the time, the adjectives are so far off of reality, I wonder where the hell they came up with that.

Yep, back to Jdate. An intelligent, hottie guy contacts me with a one-liner and the back and forth ensue. He flirts, I flirt, the phone number is passed. This man has presented himself as an intellectual, deep, spiritual marlboro man of an adventurer. The voice indicates the wizard has come out from behind the curtain.

He starts by talking about his indian name and Geronimo and dancing with wolves, moves on to his lobbying for the ACLU, switches into the universe will present me with the next experience bullshit, then asks why I think we're opposites.

As I begin to answer, he interrupts with the next question and before I can utter my "well, I..." he throws in a "women are so predictable." I inquire how I'm predictable and he moves on to a different question, why am I so confused? I tell him I'm not confused at all. Apparently my saying it's too early in the call to know if I'm interested makes me confused, since my email showed otherwise. "Sometimes the online and offline personas are not the same," I explained.

He keeps throwing out question after question without letting me answer, gets annoyed that I used the word "passionate" in a way to mean something other than sexual, and pretty much has the entire conversation on his own - putting the words into my mouth. He had the nerve to say "this is why I hate Jewish women" after meeting me on a Jewish dating site and leave me still not knowing why, this morning. He tells me I like to fight and he doesn't want a woman who wants to fight. I said "well, what is it you want? You keep trying to start that fight and making me defend myself." He says "I want peace. I want someone who's laid back and easy going." Good luck there, buddy. I was a lot more laid back until you came along.

Eventually, I discover what's making him mad. The cowardly wizard thought he was getting laid. "You shouldn't flirt if you don't mean it," he says. "I'm a flirt, but what is that supposed to mean?" He responds with a "okay, bye" and hangs up on me.

Amazing to me. This guy says he wants peace, yet he's the one stirring up the conflict. He believes he's this deep spiritual soul, yet he's not got the depth to even ask a single question about who I am or where I've been. He's waiting for the universe to show him the signs for his next adventure, yet he's got no clue how to read them.

If I hadn't just blocked him, I would've told him that before we can explore the world, we have to explore ourselves. And get a clue!

Juggling

So just when I decide no more dating, they come out of the woodwork. So now I need to figure out the math. If I only take my phone calls after 9 pm, and am usually asleep by 10 pm, how do I juggle 4 men calling to chat. I've managed to sneak in an 8:30 "I'm sorry, wanted to go to bed early so called you instead" call, to be available for a 9 o'clock call with the next bachelor. Then I can pretty much count on the night owl to either call at 10 on the nose or wake me up from a deep sleep to chat. There are two others that I've been moving around on different nights. However, at this very moment, I am expecting them both to call.

I've learned not to tell too many stories or I end up doing a "I thought I told you this" followed by "I told you this already? Sorry." Mysterious works, as well as the interview. Ask lots of questions and pay attention to the answers. Make sure you know who said what. I just screwed that up tonight by mentioning the Broadway Mall to the wrong guy. This one would have no clue what that is. It worked out though, he thanked me for telling him about the Nathan's at Broward Mall. Nope, wasn't me.

Anyway, wish me luck. I always sucked at juggling.

An Ode to "Don't Judge a Book by Its Cover"

We hear it over and over, but do we really live it. I recently was reminded of that familiar phrase, and again it was proven to be true.

Reaching my final day on jdate, I took a last look at my "matches." One guy looked like a total punk with weird chin hair and cut sleeves, tattoos and earring, and no kids. Sooooo not my type. For kicks, I opened his profile. Interestingly enough, he had great essays, writes, seemed very intelligent, funny and romantic...and he was online.

I shot him a quick email that said "hey, I think we have the same couch." We've chatted online for the past two nights, for a couple of hours each. We actually have a lot in common, plus he's very intellligent, witty and sweet, very much a gentleman and okay with adoption (he was adopted himself). Best of all, we both like pralines 'n cream, admit on our profiles that we're not physically active and prefer the Brady Bunch to Partridge Family.

I don't know if anything will come of this, but just wanted to get back to my original subject. I'm glad I didn't let his appearance stop me from reading his profile and chatting with him.

Dear Sherri,

Response to an e-mail from my friend


Wow, I'm jealous. It seems as though things are falling into place for you. I guess I need to move across the country to lose weight and get some men interested.

Nothing exciting to report here. I joined LA Fitness on Saturday (there's a new one by Winston Park), hoping that if I start moving my ass, I'll be more inspired to eat right and it'll keep me out of the house for an extra hour and a half in the evenings and away from the frig.

Once again, I've done the hokie pokie and pulled myself out of dating. I went out a few times with the [guy] that looked good on paper, but I wasn't really thrilled with him and my feelings must've been reciprocated b/c once I slept with him, I never heard from him again. And I wasn't about to contact him and give him the satisfaction of thinking I was that into him or that I'm a psycho chick.

There are a couple of guys I'm talking with on the phone, but not feeling desperate enough to attempt moving forward. I really need to get my weight in order and hair growing before I'll feel confident enough to go out and try to meet someone. It's just difficult, because like all us single gals, I get lonely for companionship.

It sounds like you and "D" are progressing, but slowly. That's a good thing. But it also sounds like you're not so sure because you're still actively going out looking for other guys (i.e., "J"). I'd keep it up...and listen to your instincts. My instinct told me this guy wasn't right but I wanted it so bad to work that I allowed myself to sleep with him with that sinking feeling that he wasn't very enamored with me. And I need that...I need to be put on the pedestal and to be with a guy that thinks I'm the bomb. I'm just too insecure to be with someone that is lukewarm.

Anyway, the camping was fun, but too hot and stressful with getting a big group organized and planning activities. The conference was phenomenal. It was great going from dirty yucky sweaty camping to a luxury resort and conference center with other professionals in my industry. I really needed that quiet time away from people. Of course, there were tons of people there, but no one was up my ass for attention. I went with two very low key women - they were very sweet and friendly, but relaxed. I've gotten so used to my demanding friends chewing my ear off and looking to go out partying when the kids aren't around. I even chose not to take calls from my friends back here, to allow myself that quiet time. I also learned a lot at the conference sessions and enjoyed being treated like a VIP by the vendors. We got a free night at Islands of Adventure - they opened to just the conference attendees and had 3 of the big rides open with no lines, free play at the arcade, food, drinks, dj with dancing...it was great! I hated coming back home.

I really love my friends but have recently been disheartened by the attitudes and intelligence levels. I really only have one friend here that's not a drama queen and is also a professional, like me. (not that I don't have drama queen moments). I have a friend from Jax that has taken to calling me every morning on my commute and just talking incessantly about bullshit...and she's got no clue that she's making a short story reallllly long and what's mountains are nothing but molehills.

Speaking of short story long, huh?

Prom Queen

Something I figured out, as I was talking it through, was that the three men that have been most significant in my dating share a common element. They all made me feel like they were honored to be with me. They made me feel like I was prom queen and they were the regular joe who got lucky. It may not have been what they were actually thinking, and may not be the reality of the situation, but they made me feel that good.

This new one, although he goes through the motions and is a good date, gentleman and sweet guy, just doesn't make me feel special. And I think I need that. It may be spoiled or narcissistic of me to want to be put on a pedestal and adored and admired, but that's just what works for me.

The thing is, when you try so hard to make it happen, because a fit seems there, you compromise what you want. Certain concessions I'm willing to make, but giving up being adored is not one of them. I want to be with someone I adore and I promise he will feel it from me, so I guess I expect the same in return.

It's too bad, he truly is a good fit, as far as lifestyle and personality go. But I'm not sure he really finds me to be wonderful, so much as he just finds me to be...there.

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Jinx

I took my ass back to Jdate, after seeing my friend who met her husband there. So I trade some witty IMs with a guy, talk briefly on the phone, then move on to the longer 1-hour phone call. Something really scary happened. It fit. The conversation flowed, we learned more about our business lives and we speak each other's speak.

But of course, I don't want to say that out loud. I'm afraid I'll jinx it. From the first phone call, I got this feeling that he's right for me...not just a crush or romantic flirtation, but our lifestyles and personalities go well. Yet, now I'm sure it's got to go wrong somewhere because if I'm actually thinking positive that'll jinx it.

So, as predicted, the next phone call was not so hot - too many questions and comments about appearance and requesting more pictures. He was slowly losing points. However, we continued on and moved on to date number one.

Here I am today, the day after. And I'm terrified to say what's really on my mind because I'm going to jinx it. The date went well, very well. I like him, he fits. But it's early yet. There, I've said it and now I'm jinxed.

I guess it's a risk I have to take. Doesn't everyone talk about the power of positive thinking. I'm going to try and keep that mind set. It's time, I'm ready and it will happen. Maybe he's not the one, but he could be.

Jinx jinx jinx. Too bad!

Overanalyzing Again

I don't know why I'm still nitpicking on my relationship with John (G), but I am. I guess it comes out of the frustration of having to start dating all over again, and not feeling that spark or compatibility with anyone new. And when we start new, after something that we thought was good, we end up always comparing it to that one before. I'm looking for that best friend again, someone that makes me laugh, someone that I'm dying to call when something good or bad happens, someone I can be happy laying around with saying or doing absolutely nothing. And it's all his fault.

Last night, I got annoyed. I'm angry all over again. First of all, from the very beginning, I told him that since neither one of us were relocateable, that we would never be more than friends. He was warned not to romance me or pursue me because it would probably work; and he swore he wasn't, but of course, he was. You don't talk on the phone for hours at a time, several times a day, emailing and IMing in between those calls, with just a friend. He knew he was reeling me in.

And I'm also angry that he chickened out when we both realized it was so much more. I finally allowed myself to become attached and rely on him and love him, and he admitted those feelings for me, and he gave me my movie moment, and then he bailed. We finally got to the visit where our real feelings were out in the open and we were able to express and enjoy them while physically together and he got scared and pushed me away. He used the excuse that we got carried away, as a reaction to my health crisis. But I knew...I knew he couldn't deal with these feelings and not being able to be with me because of the distance. He dragged me into this and then wussied out.

Lastly, I'm pissed at him to figure out that I've been no different than every other sucker that falls for him. Every last one of us believes that we're special, believes that they have a best friend in him, believes that we would make such a great family together. It's a shtick. Yes, I was the only one to get an "I love you" out of him, as more than a friendly "luv ya," but it was fleeting. It pains me to know that he may just lump me in with the rest of the spreadsheet, that I was just one more foolish woman that got carried away, thinking we were something more than the rest.

Mostly, I'm pissed at myself for allowing this to happen and for those weak moments when I still regret not being able to be with him and dream of being at peace with our picket fence in Stepford and our happy ending.

Decisions Decisions

It's incredibly frustrating to find yourself dating and chatting and putting yourself out there, yet not feel compatibility or excitement with any of them. Sure, there are nice ones, funny ones, hot ones...but that doesn't necessarily mean they will all come in the same person, nor click with you.

I go back and forth between putting the full strategic marketing plan into action and pulling all materials from the shelf. I feel like I want to get out there and meet them and find someone that'll fit, but then it gets old when no one is doing it for me. So I start using the excuse "I'm just not ready." Anyone read "He's Just Not That Into You?" That's a bullshit excuse. For the right person, we're always ready.

Legitimately, though, I don't feel I'm at my most attractive with my short post-chemo 'do. Call it a Pixie, call it Lesbian Biker Bar Chic. Either way you look at it, it's not sexy to anyone but other women.

What's really best, though? Do I banish myself to the land of celibacy and girls' nights out until my hair grows another 5 inches and I lose those 40 pounds? Or, do I continue to date, with the feel-good, politically correct notion that the right man will love me warts and all? We all know it's great in theory, but if there are only 3 men looking, what are the chances he'll be in that group of 3?

And what are the chances that someone reading this post is going to be thinking "you have to love yourself first before someone else can love you?" Speaking of feel-good politically correct theories.

That Wild Hair Again

My list of male prospects has whittled down to almost none. Every now and then, I get a call from a guy I went out with a few times, last month. However, he seems to neglect to ask me out, or we end up fighting. The man just doesn't know how to flirt. Yet, I like him. Don't ask me why, some spark is just unexplicable.

I decided that it's just not going to happen as a relationship, and nothing's really taking off with anyone else, so it's time to give in and allow the bootie call. A tentative date is planned and the majority of that day goes by with no confirmation or follow-up call. A cutie gives me a call and asks me on a first date. I accept.

Bad state of mind to go into with for a first date. My mind is on the bootie call, i.e., sex; and I'm bored with the lack of excitement in my dating life. I'm an easy target. The guy who asked me out is very cute, but I just didn't find a spark on the phone. He's an absolute sweetheart, but the flirtation is missing. I need fire and teasing and banter. I actually decided before I went out with him, that if he were cute but I felt no potential, that "I'd do him."

That's awful, eh? It gets worse. He's as sweet as pie, tells me right off the bat that I'm cuter than my pictures and we sit and talk for two hours. No, actually, he talks for two hours, but that's irrelevant here. No potential and he's adorable. So when he asks to kiss me, things start looking up. Fast forward through a "your place or mine" scenario and we're on my bed. He told me straight out that he was still interested in seeing me and pursuing this, that the first date sex made no difference to him. He left it to me to make the call and let him know if I were still interested.

I won't drag this post on. I learned something new about myself, that night. For all the complaining my friends and I may do about the superficiality of men not wanting us chubby chicks, I found myself relating. I can not believe that I would actually make a decision based on a man's penis size. But I did. If we had met taken our time and fallen in love first, size wouldn't matter. However, that's not how it happened. He was great with his mouth, but if oral sex were enough, I'd be a lesbian.

I feel so guilty, but I also know I can't continue to date a man because I feel guilty over not wanting to date him. You live, you learn.

Naked

I did it. I took the wig off. I've done it before, on the weekend and in Mexico, but today's a first. I went to the office sans fake hair protecting my face. And I can't even wear eye make-up, thanks to the Lasik I had on Thursday, to distract people from the fact that I have this short little pixie.

Tomorrow I remove the port from my chest, and the only remnants of the cancer are the new scars - physical and emotional. Onward and upward. My hair will grow, time will heal some of the wounds and the count will begin again. I've been cancer-free (or NED - no evidence of disease) for 10 months...G-d willing, I'll be counting until I die of old age.

But for now, I have major stomach issues, from nerves. Today is the first day my co-workers see me without the wig. The buzz has already begun. I've had about 5 visitors come "check me out." I have to remember that this is my issue, and no one else's. It's all in my head. No one really cares what my hair looks like, nor will judge me.

I've avoided being the poster child for cancer, but I almost feel like it's time. It's time for me to make a statement by wearing this hair as my purple heart. I've got nothing to be ashamed of, and I should be proud. This hairdo is one of the battle scars from my war with cancer. I survived and I'm here another day to remind the world. I may not be at my most attractive, but there's more to me than what I look like...and what I look like today proves that. Today, everyone can see me - my real hair and my battle scars.

And I feel so naked.

The Worst Kind

Harry: There are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.
Sally: Which one am I?
Harry: You're the worst kind. You're high maintenance but you think you're low maintenance.

I've always maintained that I'm low maintenance. I figure I'm really easy to please. Make enough money to pay the bills plus eat out every so often and be prepared for emergencies. Buy me flowers on Valentine's Day, open the door and tell me I'm pretty. Jeans and tee-shirts for running errands, jeans and pearls for a date. No fancy restaurants needed and no long walks on the beach. I'm good with the sports grill and renting a video. I love my weekend getaways, but am good with the Quality Inn over the Sheraton. I shop at Wal-Mart and Target, buy my name brands on eBay or from a van in the alley. Ok, so I need Helman's and Heinz over store brand, but it's just condiments. And once a year I want a real vacation, and not one where I have family and friend visiting obligations.

Uh oh, it starts there. I'm slowly learning that I may not be SOOOOO low maintenance. Could I be getting more demanding as I age? Or could I just be more willing to admit that I want a little more than the basics? You can take the girl out of Long Island, but you can't take the Long Island out of the girl.

I took my daughter to Cancun last week for Spring Break. I knew the hotel wouldn't be as impressive as the one we'd stayed at the last time, but I figured there were pools, a beach, a kids' club and all-inclusive amenities. What's one less star REALLY mean? Well, it means that the run down jungle gym that took me three days to discover was their version of the kids' club. And it means that if you're on the all-inclusive plan, the waiters won't come to you at the pool, you've got to get your ass up and go get your own drink. And it means that your bathroom smells like sewer and they clean all the dirty plates and cups around the pool just one time a day. And worst of all, it means no room service! I swore I'd never go back there and from now on, I'd pay a few more dollars to ensure my luxury.

I've also learned I'm a little more demanding, since I've reentered the local dating scene. My southern gentleman spoiled me and now I expect a man to open my doors. Not too bad, I'm sure you're thinking. But I even will sit and wait in the car for him to come around and let me out. I get the WTF look through the window as they're already 10 yards away from the car and I'm still sitting there.

I expect a man to offer to come to me and to have a plan. What do you mean "do I want to meet somewhere in the middle?" Hello, this is a first date, you're supposed to try and impress me. Date's off. "So where do you want to go?" Sorry pal, you asked me out, you'd better make a suggestion, at least. Don't leave me to figure it out when I'm supposed to meet you somewhere in 10 minutes. Indecisive doesn't fly with me.

I always offer to contribute to the check when we eat out. Usually, that offer is declined. Yesterday, I offered to pay towards lunch. "No, that's ok, you can get the movie." He's out. He mentioned the last girl being a gold digger. I'm not after his money, I'm after a gentleman. If he were broke, I'd almost understand. This was a first date, at least attempt to impress me with chivalry. If you don't have a lot of money, then suggest something cheap for our date, like going for a walk somewhere...I won't even notice you're saving money.

Another guy I've been seeing calls but doesn't ask me out. I inquire why not and he responds that he's broke. He's made it past the first three dates, I don't need him to pay for a meal anymore. See, I'm not that bad. But his car was in the shop and I was annoyed that he didn't figure out a way to come see me. Demanding? A bit.

So, I'm ready. I'm ready for a quality vacation, and I'm ready for a quality man... and I'm ready to admit that I'm not quite low maintenance. I want the romance and I want it from a gentleman that's going to show me that he believes I'm worth the extra steps it takes. I'm worth 15 more minutes in the car, and walking around to open the door and paying for the first date (which not need to be expensive, mind you) and I'm worth borrowing a car to come see and I'm worth paying a compliment or two. If he doesn't believe that, then he's not the right guy.

Does all this make me high maintenance? If so, then I will accept it and admit it...but for now I'll say I'm high maintenance-ish. I still buy store brand mustard. :-)

When It Rains, It Pours

Yep, I'm dating again. I've broken through the black hole of match.com and finally found a few that didn't disappear after sending the first wink, email or asking me out for coffee.

It all started with Elvis and took off from there.

Last week, on a whim, and not having my daughter on a school night, I was having a first phone call with someone I'd been emailing with. At 10, I said we could've been out for coffee and home already with all the time we spent on the phone. The suggestion sparked the reality and I was in the car on the way to meet Bachelor #1. He was very friendly and complimentary, but I really wasn't feeling the spark. I still thought I might see him again because you just never know.

At the same time, Bachelor #2 emerged from the black hole. We had emailed and he gave me his number and asked me to call. I left a message and never heard back. I gave my match.com membership and profile for all of 5 days but realized when I wasn't getting my refund to get back on there. I reactivated and sent him an email: "whatever happened to you?" He wrote back that he had deleted my number figuring he had it on caller ID, but I had done a call block so he lost it...and then my profile was missing. I granted him his stay of execution and he and I have a date for tomorrow. There was no great banter on the phone, but he's good relationship material, very nice and very local...and flat out looking for a long term relationship. What a refreshing change of attitude from the men I've dated over the past 3 years.

Also, Bachelor #3 wasn't much of an email guy and sent me his phone number. Usually I require some online chatting up front but I figured I've missed out on this stuff for almost 9 months so let's cut to the chase. Great banter, lots of teasing and yet we're both left wondering what the heck is he/she thinking. Pure trouble, but isn't that the most fun? We had our first date yesterday afternoon, for lunch, when I joked "where are we going for lunch," on the phone. He took me up on it and about an hour and a half later he was down from West Palm Beach for lunch. He left me hanging with a mysterious smirk and my not knowing whether he liked me or not. Five hours later, he drove down again from WPB and we had date number two. He had been given the warning that just because I let him into my house, doesn't mean he's making it to the bedroom. A lot of teasing and wondering on both sides what the other was really thinking, and then finally he asked me straight out "so, are you interested?" Duh! I told him when a woman throws her legs across his lap, it's a good sign. He told me if I didn't want to find out whether he was interested then I should remove my legs because I'd be feeling it pretty soon. I finally got a "you're so cute" out of him. Sheesh! What's it take to get a compliment in this town??? He reminded me that nothing would happen since he'd been given a stern warning and he was being a gentleman and respectful. GRRRRR, kiss me damnit!!! We ended it with a hug, he kissed the top of my head, then as he walked out the door turned and said "call me tomorrow, please." He's fun, I like that one. Not sure about potential for long term, but we'll see.

Back at the ranch, I've still been emailing with another nice gentleman who has my number but has yet to take the initiative to call. You snooze you lose buddy.

I Went Out with Elvis and He Brought Along Neil Diamond

I took a chance and went on a date with my first match.com guy that didn't disappear into the black hole. I knew he was an entertainer and comedian, but I finally got out of him that one of his shticks is being an Elvis impersonator.

Saturday night I was supposed to be going out with my friend and meeting my cousin at Crabby Jack's for Karaoke Night. It was the first weekend in three that I didn't have my daughter and I was ready to go play. I'd also invited Elvis, who I later realized I'd seen perform at Karaoke Night a few months earlier, to come join us. In the end, the friend and cousin bailed, so I tracked Elvis down to let him know I wouldn't be there. At that point, he mentioned his friend to me, a nice man that helps him with his gigs and likes to go to Karaoke Night, as well. Turns out he's the famous "Tony Diamond" from Crabby's...I knew exactly who he is. Elvis turned it around on me and invited me to go take Tony out for karaoke, somewhere else.

It was a lovely little get together. I never really spoke with Tony before, all those times I'd seen him at Crabby's. He's a very nice man (who apparently has something he takes thorazine for) and was a gentleman. Elvis took me to his van to listen to some of his CD's, both his Garth Brooks and other impersonator ones and some original songs. Another nice guy, but I could tell he wasn't attracted. Extra points for still being friendly despite that. I knew as soon as I saw his weightlifter physique and hearing a few questions about whether men hit on me when I went out, I had a feeling he wouldn't be attracted to me.

I thanked them both for a nice evening and we went our separate ways. The next day, I sent the thank you email and let Elvis know that even if there were no love connection, I always enjoy making new friends. He responded that he would be honored to be my friend. We've exchanged a few light emails, as such, since. I'm sure I'll see him around again, but as for dating...onward and upward!

Ommmmmmmmm

It's been awhile since I've written, so I've got to push myself back a couple of weeks. I think we have the psychosis under control now. I'm not feeling completely relaxed, but I do have a sense of calm back. I still get excited and rushed and a little bit fidgety, but it's about 95% back to my baseline quirkiness.

So I am put on some medication that we'll just call a "mood stabilizer" to help with my racing thoughts and what I see as compulsiveness. Dr. Always Runs Late But No One Warns Me When I Call Ahead to Confirm believes this will help with my weight, as well. And I'm all thrilled at the prospect of the miracle drug that will help me gain my composure and work alongside my theory of overeating as a form of OCD. However, as I'm scratching my body raw and noticing these ugly bumps, Dr. Always Runs Late But No One Warns Me When I Call Ahead to Confirm asks me if I'm having any side effects. As I'm scratching away, I say no and then the lightbulb comes on. "Ohhhhh, that's what this rash must be from." She agrees, yet advises me to up the dosage but call if the rash gets worse. Fast forward to the rash getting worse, the doctor being on vacation and the office advising me to call my regular doctor.

Second issue is that I'm not feeling better. I'm embarrassed that people around me sense that I'm losing my mind and I'm starting to feel sick, that I'm really sick and it's screwing with my brain. I hate the thought that I'm the same drug that they give to people with OCD and Bipolar Disorder, regardless of whether it's also the drug now being prescribed to help with weight loss. I focus on the crazy indications. So I feel crazy and I'm walking around scratching all day...not attractive and definitely appears as crazy. Crazy is as crazy does?

I spend the weekend with two friends. One, without question, has serious issues. I know there's arguments that I shouldn't bother having with her, because they stem from her issues and nothing that I've done or said. The other one seems at peace, relaxed, takes life as it comes and faces challenges on a daily basis that I couldn't imagine. I decide that I don't want to be perceived the same way as the one with the issues and if the other one can find peace with her bumps in the road, so can I. That's it, meds are gone, I'm going to learn to just relax and stop with the drama. And that's what I did.

Today, I finally did go to my regular doctor - two weeks and major scratching and bruises from scratching later - to take care of the rash. It should be gone by the time I hit Niagara Falls for my Single Parents Mingle GTG, the motherload of get togethers, and hopefully, I'll be 98% back to me.

Now the original me will probably never exist again. She's got some new war wounds and issues to contend with, and a hell of a lot less hair. But change is good. We'll find out how others deal with it.