love, naturally

attraction in action

Couples fascinate me. If it weren’t for the possibility of life behind bars, I would make it my mission to capture, tag, and study them as they moved about in the wild.

How did you meet? Was there an immediate attraction? How did you ask him/her out? Wait!! Where are you going? Tell me your special tale of love!!! Remember, you’re tagged – I will always find you!!!

When it comes to love, I don’t think logic and science have anything to do with it. Have you noticed the variety of couples out there?? What you see in each other simultaneously baffles and delights me. If you have luck, timing, and mutual juju, the two of you are off and running into the sunset. Or the car wash. Maybe a Star Trek the Next Generation convention. Listen, I don’t presume to know what you like to do. It’s all good. It’s about togetherness, right?

valentine's sunset

I haven’t come across mutual juju in a long time. I’m not sure why. I’m relatively normal (don’t read my About page) and…well, that’s all I got. Oh, I’m not high drama (don’t read my other posts) and I get easily lost, which means I won’t crowd you. Because I’m lost. And I have no idea when I’ll return, so stop asking. Geez!! Get off my back!! Leave me alone!!!!

See? Plenty of space.

Anyways, my history of attraction has always been off-kilter:

I’m attracted to them > They don’t know I exist
I want to run away < They are attracted to me
I’m attracted (but he’s wrong for me) <> They’re attracted (but I’m wrong for him)

My future is a mystery. I don’t know if there will be several people over time or just one. I don’t know if I will ever meet them. Perhaps they exist but our paths may never cross. However, if our paths do cross, I’m sure I’ll recognize them. Until then (or never), I will go my merry way.

hearts

And while I was on my aforementioned merry way, I happened to speak to someone whom I failed miserably at recognizing. Not only did he feel familiar, he was kind, funny and warm. No warning bells went off like they usually do. We connected in a very easy way, had a lovely conversation, and then we went our separate ways.

It wasn’t until later that I thought: Oh…that’s the type of guy I should date! If he had asked me out, I would have said yes without hesitation. Not that he would have (see history of attraction above). I honestly don’t know much about anything anymore.

I had preconceived notions about attraction: !sparks! *fluttering* Mr. Darcy walking across a dewy field of grass at sunrise with the intention of proclaiming his love for me. While I was keeping my eye out for all of that, I didn’t see what was in front of me.

That's either Mr. Darcy or someone coming to kill me. Well, let's let him come a little closer before jumping to any totally logical conclusions.

That’s either Mr. Darcy or someone coming to kill me. Well, let’s let him come a little closer before jumping to any totally logical conclusions.

That guy gave me a gift. He showed me that connection can float in with an easy grace that is so organic, you don’t know anything is happening. It’s synergy in motion: click click with that person, click click click click with another person. If you’re lucky, your inner self aligns with another’s inner self with more clicks that you’ve ever experienced before. You get them and they get you. It’s real and heartfelt as opposed to thrilling, yet fleeting. Thrilling and fleeting are overrated. I’d rather have the fullness of the real thing.

So I’m on my merry way again: schooled once more, with Darcy on the shelf, and my heart click clacking as I go. With it being Valentine’s Day, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Love on the Pretzel Train

Because I never really dated that much in the past, I was looking forward to finding out what it was going to be like. I joked about wanting to juggle men. I pictured myself being cool, casual, carefree. “Date like a man” my friend Neal told me. But I’ve started to notice that I’m looking for that connection, that recognition of oh, hello…yesI feel what’s possible with you. Does that happen? Is that too much to ask? Maybe all those romantic, meet-cute comedies I used to watch have twisted my brain into an over-salted, unrealistic pretzel.

I’m not looking for the perfect, fantasy man. I know he doesn’t exist. At my high school reunion, one of my former classmates nodded knowingly when I shared that strange men tend to be attracted to me. “I hear ya,” She said. “But it only takes one.” He could be anywhere. Mae, is it true? Could he be with another woman right now? Take your hands off my future man, you hussy!!

I only want to discover the one who is perfect for me and I for them. It’s possible, right? Or am I on the Pretzel Train and every stop is SingleTown?

It’s also possible that I could drop dead tomorrow. Or the next day. I would be dead without ever having found love again. That pisses me off. But if I’m dead, I won’t know how to get upset – I won’t even know I’m dead, so I guess it’s a moot point.

Life doesn’t follow a straight line (like this post), so I have no idea what it has in store for me. Before I don’t know I’m dead, I would like to accomplish the following things this year and the next:

1) find a new job
2) move
3) travel to Italy and/or Spain
4) keep

— my mom just informed me that my face looks really round: “You look round here [cups her cheeks with her palms]. I wonder why…you exercise enough. Maybe I just don’t look at your face that often.”

1) move
2) exercise more
3) find a job that keeps me moving
4) travel
5) continue to date
6) continue being open to possibility
7) keep…keep what?? (I have no clue what I was about to write.) keep on truckin’? keep my head up, my spirits high and hope to love again before I die?

That train stop at my reunion must have done a number on me.  I thought I had chased away the dark clouds that my mom the inner critic brought in a few days ago, but some of them still linger.

Next stop?

Not sure. Think I need to catch that transfer out of CheekFat Town, so I’d better start running.

And Your Mission is…

Every organization has a mission statement.

Why shouldn’t a couple have one, too?

I was emailing a friend the other night, and I told her I thought it would be a good idea for a couple to come up with a mission statement together. And since almost every idea has been done before, I’m sure there are situations where couples do this. If not, can I copyright this? Too late? You’re already stealing it? Damn you…I would come after you with my girl-machete, but I sense you aren’t threatened by me. I know. All bark, little bite.

As a couple, what do you stand for and how will you strive together into the future? This is what I will ask my future partner to send him screaming, running away from me. If he doesn’t run, well, then I know I’ve made the right choice. I know there are vows spoken during a ceremony and/or promises made, but a mission statement can be created together as a couple, as a united front, and be used as an anchor to toss over the side of the boat when the waters get choppy. Realistic? Idealistic? I like to think they are both, but you can decide for yourself.

And speaking of your self: I think it would benefit us as individuals to come up with our own statements – something to refer to and remember when life kicks us in the face or even worse, if we lose faith in ourselves. Who are you and what do you stand for, strive for? What do you say in commitment to your self?

I just felt something pop. This is a lot of thinking for me this early in the morning. I won’t have any brain juice left for work today.

Brain juice. Can I copyright this, too?

The Profiler

My friend – I’ll call her Patricia – recently purchased a trial period for Match.com. If you’re reading this P, please don’t get mad. I don’t think this will out you in any way. I’m very discreet. Haha, no I’m not. Anyways, I thought I would try and come up with a profile she could use because she said writing one for herself would be difficult. I know why: she’s too humble about herself. Maybe I’m not discreet, but I still want to keep her as a friend, so I won’t post Patricia’s Pulitzer prize-winning profile. Did you know she sells seashells down by the seashore? Many people don’t know that about her.

I’m incredibly frightened of online dating. Despite the fact that I blog about my personal life, I still like my privacy. I’ve never posted a photo of myself and most likely never will unless it’s of my right shoulder or my hand holding a fork, so the odds of putting my face on a dating site are very low. Especially since I live in a small community. But before closing the door on the whole thing, I wanted to do some research first.

I’m positive that all of this has been criticized before about dating sites, but since it was my first time looking through all the photos and profile names, I’m compelled to put in my two cents: I really don’t think it’s a good idea to use “lonely”, “angry”, “sad”, and “whoseurdaddy” as part of your profile name, unless, of course, those words are like magic to your ears. But then I saw this: sypholus. I hope it doesn’t refer to what it sounds like. I’m concerned. Maybe he should see a doctor?

I saw men in hoodies, sunglasses, baseball caps, far far away, posing shirtless…sometimes in different combinations. You – the one in the black watch cap and shades, could you step a few 100 feet closer to the camera? How can I tell if you have an extra arm growing out of your side? That’s a plus for me, so if you have one, I want to get a good look at it. I only searched for men over 40. I can’t imagine what the younger profiles are like. Well, I’m guessing the same, just more of them, right? There certainly were some good looking guys, and it helped that some of them used handsome as part of their profile name – I never would have known  if they hadn’t thoughtfully alerted me. But good looks don’t equal good character. My ex has a lot of handsome friends, and that focus group taught me not to get sucked in on good looks alone.

And (sort of) speaking of my ex, his mom reeeealllly wants me to broaden my choices through online dating. She even said she’d take my profile picture. Maybe I can use this one?

Pie

Profile: I like pie. I’m right-handed.

Is it my hand that’s tiny? Or is it a huge piece of pie? Did I eat the whole thing?

Some mysteries are better left unsolved.

**I just heard that Martha Stewart signed up for Match.com. Well, there you go. All my prospective three-armed men will now be flocking to her. Dammit, Martha! Must you be the center of attention of the whole online dating world, too??

The Dating Jitterbug: Lesson Two

I went on my date with WG.  I still have my liver!!

Did you know that I initially met WG on Valentine’s Day?  Well, we met with our eyes.  As noted in a previous post, the way he stared at me was a little alarming. After I thought about it, I decided that he was either attracted to me or very, very frightened by me, which is completely understandable.  I honestly didn’t think much about it until three weeks later, when I went back to the store.  And look where I am now…it only took two months to get a date with him!  At this rate, I’ll have gone through menopause before our second date.

WG has mentioned that he sometimes has social anxiety, but I didn’t get a sense of a real disorder, at least not during the date.  Apparently, he’s one of those people that likes to fill their time doing stuff and can exist on four hours of sleep.  I, on the other hand, don’t always have to keep busy and wish my body would allow me to get more than six hours of sleep a night.  And I noticed that he seemed a little critical of himself, so maybe he doesn’t always feel comfortable in his own skin.  Who hasn’t been there?  What he doesn’t know about me is that I have a large capacity to accept quirky energy as long as the person doesn’t cross that fine line into, for lack of a better term, the truly bizarre.

I’ve told myself in the past to be open to dating all types of guys, even though I might not feel an instant attraction. But I have my limits. One of my tests for physical attraction is to think about the guy touching me in a very neutral place. For example, I might imagine him touching my elbow, where the wrinkly skin has hardly any nerve endings. If I react badly to this dead spot, I know I don’t want him touching me anywhere else and we probably shouldn’t date.

WG lightly touched my arm, shoulder, and back at different times during our date.  He got some game!  Well, he still seemed a little tentative, especially after I slapped him in the face.  Nooo…I didn’t do that.  In truth, I reacted…very well.  Of course, I wondered to myself if it was true attraction or effects of the man drought I’ve been experiencing, but that’s that damn over thinking thing I do.

Other stuff I noticed?  He seemed gentlemanly and polite.  Ate with his mouth closed.  Was willing to get hit first in a crosswalk.  Suggested we walk in the sun as opposed to the shady side of the street because he thought it might be too cold for me.  And I think he only looked at his phone once.  He said he recently got texting capability for his dinosaur of a phone, so I knew he wasn’t obsessed with needing to stay in contact with the world, i.e. Facebook, Twitter.  As you can tell, I like good manners, especially the getting-hit-first thing.  But he didn’t ask me many questions about myself, nor did he counter with his own when I asked him questions.  I think a good conversation has a nice back and forth to it, but I can’t fully weigh in on this yet until we talk more.  The date didn’t last that long – I think he fit me in between doing his other “stuff”, which yes, could be taken as a bad sign.

I have a question.  Is it a female faux pas to pay for something during the date?  I mean, I was the one that asked him out.  He paid for coffee and dessert, and then we also ended up at Pinkberry, so I insisted on treating him.  The guy shouldn’t always pay, right?  I’m realizing that I’m not a big fan of trying to understand the rules of dating.  It takes my brain into overdrive, and I can already tell that it could lead to mental exhaustion.  Nothing good can come of it.  To break it down, if I am myself (within reason, at least in the beginning) and he doesn’t like me, then I have to move on and find someone that does.  It helps if you can learn to not take it personally, as pointed out by thelovemanifesto.  That makes sense to me.  And besides, I think that’s what Tina Fey would do.

When WG walked me to my car, he asked if I would like to go wine tasting some time.  He used the Proactive, Yet Vague move on me.  Hey, that’s my move!  But it worked and I said yes.  When we hugged goodbye, I couldn’t have predicted that I would experience one of the best hugs of my life.  I may not have dated all that much, but I’ve hugged a lot of guys of differing shapes, sizes, and heights.  I’m like the Hugging Bimbo. Do people still use the word bimbo?  Remember Huggy Bear? That would be a cute nickname if you’re into that sort of thing, which I’m definitely not.  Where was I?  Oh, yes.  I’m pretty short, so my face constantly gets smashed and my neck wrenched against a guy’s chest.  I’ve damaged guys’ windpipes because they leaned down too far at the same time I was lifting my shoulders to reach up as high as possible.  I like a solid and warm hug (unless it’s with the aforementioned creepy elbow toucher).  When WG and I embraced, my brain told me to let go after a few seconds, but my body and his unforeseen talent as a HuggyBear kept me from moving.  I literally could not let go even though my brain was saying release! release!!  To his credit, he didn’t call the cops on me.  Come on…I’m not saying I kept my claws wrapped around him in a five-minute death grip.  Or did I?  No, I’m pretty sure it lasted about five seconds.  Try it on someone and let me know if it feels a little too long.  But find someone willing.  A thrasher doesn’t make a good hugging experience.

By the way, other than the over hugging incident, I have no idea how I came across on the date.  He could very well think that I’m the weirdo.  And let’s face it, I am, but in a you-might-not-like-this-but-it’s-good-for-you kind of way.  Will there really be a second date?  I have no idea.  It’s been five days, and I haven’t heard from him.  But I’ll tell you this much: the next guy I hug is going to have some huge shoes to fill.