Magic is what you make of it

Disney loveMagic always comes with a prince

At least that’s what Disney and Hollywood lead you to believe.

Of course lately, there’s been less focus on the prince and more focus on the heroine, but you get the picture – love, above all, makes the story.

And how are we single ladies supposed to feel about this in real life?

Well, I’ll tell you, being single has never hurt my social life. In fact, I think I get out more and do more things simply because I don’t have a partner to hang out at home with eating pizza and drinking beer with on a Saturday night.

Being single didn’t hurt me when I was racing cars at the Stockton 99.

image

Being single especially didn’t hurt me when I was leaping from an airplane with a hot man and a parachute strapped to my back.

And it certainly didn’t hurt me when I went to the Alameda County Fairgrounds and ran with the bulls.

photo 4No, being single hasn’t hurt one bit.

Even my more carnal urges somehow manage to get taken care of.

So what then is my life missing without a man to “complete” me?

The answer is nothing.

I have friends and family who give me love and camaraderie and lovers who give me intimacy.

Everything else is icing on the cake.

Sure, it’s magical when life and love come with a prince.

But it sure as hell isn’t required.

Magic, is what you make of it.

Make an offer

A real conversation I had:

Him:  Hey are you still interested in meeting up or should I delete your contact?  LOL

Me:  Depends.

Him:  On what?

Me:  You still married?

Him:  Yeah but it’s open like I said she is bi if that interests you.  I can provide a permission slip.  LMAO

Me:  I suppose you can delete me then.  Best wishes to you.

Him:  Oh man I’m kinda bummed to hear that.

Seriously.

When are men going to get a clue?

A dead end is a dead end and I’m not about to waste my precious time on this earth playing second, third, or maybe even fourth fiddle to someone else.

Like most women, I learned the hard way that most married-but-open men aren’t really open.

Covid has taken away my patience for their bullshit.

No matter how sexy a wife they come with.

The truth is I have more than enough friends with benefits to keep me happy.

That’s not what I’m looking for.

Offer me something I don’t already have.

That’s what I’m looking for.

And until I find it, it’s hard to settle.

Reason to quit online dating #147

If you’re curious what turned me off to online dating. . .besides over a decade of failure. . . I would point to “Ben.”:

This profile nicely sums up what I hate about online dating:

THIS KIND OF MAN

Surely there’s some misogyny going on here, what with him calling women “slut faces.”

I just realized that I’m no longer surprised when I come across profiles like these and that it’s time to get off dating apps.

I’ll just have to put my efforts elsewhere and not linger too long thinking about how much time I wasted on online dating apps.

I did meet The Swede and Big Joe.

And Nate – all who have become good friends.

So obviously there are some decent people using these apps.

But in my estimation, making three friends over 15 years of online dating doesn’t constitute a great success rate.

Out with the old, in with the new.

Volunteering.

Burning Man.

Friends.

These are all great ways to get out and mingle with good people who aren’t going to call you “slut face” before they’ve even met you.

Done with that

I need to rethink my approach to meeting men.

I’ve been relying HEAVILY on online dating applications to introduce me to people, yet so very few of the men I meet become friends.

My success rate is seriously DOWN IN THE DUMPS right now.

Obviously, with my track record of online dating being so poor, it’s hard to understand why I continue to try my hand at it.

The answer is simple:  It makes me FEEL like I’m accomplishing something.

I’m meeting men, though they’re not right for me, and what more can I do besides make an effort to get to know single available men.

The problem is that men are easy to come by and the slightest red flag sends me running.

I know I’m guilty of not investing as much as I should on a first date because it’s real easy to arrange another first date with another acceptable man.

But if you stand at the end of that long road, and look back – it’s a rather uninteresting and somewhat painful journey.

Particularly when you had no idea you’d be living so much of your adult life in an uncoupled up state.

I like being single when the alternative is being with someone who doesn’t make me happy.

But when the alternative is love, I’m 100% for leaving singlehood behind.

I’m not sure why finding someone who makes me happy is taking so long.

Going forward into 2021, I’ve decided to lay off the online dating websites for a while.

Not because I’m giving up, but because I recognize a stagnant pattern when I see one.

Now, in order for me to meet a man, he’s going to have to be the one who is looking.

Because I’m done with that.

Beards, Tattoos and Dad Bods

I saw this on Tik Tok and fell in love with it INSTANTLY:

Of course, I drive a truck and slapping this decal on my truck might send a message that I look favorably upon men with dad bods, tattoos and beards.

And that would be an appropriate perception.

Because you all know how much I love all those things all rolled into one package.

Give me a handsome, middle aged man with a beard and tattoos and I’m one happy girl!

Confronting mortality

Something strange has happened.

Three men I dated suddenly passed away within months of each other this year.

They were far too young to die.

David was in his early 60s.

Steve was 58.

Bob was 47.

I confess, I’m more than a little shook at the suddenness and finality of death.

It’s made me think about my own life in ways I wouldn’t normally think about.

What do I want for my funeral?

Who will be there?

Do I have a long time until I pass or will it be swift and sudden, as with them?

There’s no doubt they have left behind family and friends who are suffering from their losses.

Steve had a son and an ex-wife who he was very close with.

Bob had three kids.

And David was a newlywed.

Although I can barely stomach the idea, it seems important now to at least provide my family with guidelines for my funeral or memorial should anything ever happen to me.

I want the quilts I’ve made to be brought to decorate the service at Burning Man.

And I’d like for my children to both speak about me.

And my friends Michelle, Barbara, and my cousin Jennifer.

I want everyone to wear bright colors.

None of this black nonsense.

And at the end, when everyone is processing out, I want Israel Kamakawiwoʻole’s What a Wonderful World/Over the Rainbow to play.

I want to be laid to rest with the ashes of my dogs and my children Douglas and Ruby, who preceded me in death.

Kinda morbid for a Tuesday blog post, but there you have it.

I’m confronting my own mortality.

Tall, dark and random

I’m in Reno, where every other man is in jeans and flannels, and facial hair comes standard on all the men.

I’m literally FLOATING in a sea of lumberjacks.

Well, color me happy!

But seriously, here every guy is an outdoorsman, drives a truck, and can operate heavy machinery.

I’ve been swiping on Tinder, just to get an idea of what’s out there in Reno.

Visually, I’m in my dating Mecca.

Substance-wise I’m in Death Valley.

Because there’s a whole lot of red hats here in Washoe County.

In fact, a Oldsmobile decked out in TRUMP swag was spotted in Virginia City today compete with blaring “Proud to be an American. . .” blaring over a loud speaker.

I’ve got to find me a LIBERAL lumberjack.

One who rescues homeless puppies and finds them homes.

The kind of man who works all day only to come home and braid his daughter’s hair for bed time.

I want a man who can shoe horn a 30 foot Winnebago into a 28 foot parking spot.

A man who has as many friends from his childhood as he does from his adult life because he makes friends every where he goes.

I want a man who can make other people laugh and who possesses a passionate soul.

I’m just looking for someone tall, dark and random.

Tall-ish

I once went out with a man who was seven feet tall.

He used to get asked all the time “Do you play baseketball?” to which he’d reply “Why?  Do you play miniature golf?”

Ha ha ha!

I clearly remember standing on a bench kissing him and STILL being shorter than him.

And I’m not a petite woman by any stretch of the imagination.

So when I found out my latest date was 6’7” my first thought was “Okay, no big deal.”

It’s not like he’s seven feet tall.

However, having spent the afternoon with him I can now report back and say that yes, even 6’7” is tall.

I opted to wear heels because I figured I could get away with it.

Big Joe walked toward me to hug me and I was standing on a curb, in my heels.

I hugged him and was dwarfed by him even so.

Obviously I find his height very appealing.

I’m not gonna lie.

Look up “lumberjack” in the dictionary and it’ll have a picture of him with the caption “Big Joe.”

Which brings me to the other joke that my seven foot boyfriend used to say.

People would stare and say, “So is it true what they say about the size of a man’s shoes and his ___.”

To which he’d respond, “God no!  I’d be ten feet tall!”

LOL

Clever boy!

Show my world to you

I’m craving Ethiopian food today.

Not just because there’s an awesome Ethiopian restaurant by me.

Also because I want to support black-owned businesses.

I want to put my money where it can do good and promote diversity.

I’ve donated to the ACLU.

And BLM.

I’m sure there’s many other worthy non-profits I could donate to.

But going to eat Ethiopian takes care of two birds with one stone:  I get tasty food AND I support a business owned by an African-American family.

I ate Ethiopian not long ago with my friend Austin who has since passed away.

I’ll never forget it took us 45 minutes to order our food because we were so busy talking.

And I was so busy staring into his eyes.

God, was he gorgeous.

Such a tragedy his life ended by suicide.

I’ll never go to that restaurant ever again without thinking of him and remembering how ALIVE I felt when I was with him.

Or listen to the Dave Matthew’s Band play “Crash Into Me” without getting teary-eyed.

I’ll show my world to you. . .

Not instantly amazing

I have this theory.

Bear with me while I explain myself.

As a society, I think our attention spans are getting shorter.

We like our news in nice bite sized nuggets – 140 characters or less.

We like short posts on Facebook, preferably ones with pictures.

And we like our internet dating “swipe-friendly.”

Show me a picture and let me decide in a split second on whether or not I think I would like to get to know that person.

I think the reason why I am single is not because I haven’t met the right person, but because I’m not instantly amazing.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m special.

I am loved by many people.

But it takes time for me to reveal myself to others and in the time it takes me to achieve trust and vulnerability with my partner, that partner has gotten bored and already swiped right and left on new profiles.

Women who are instantly amazing are Lady Gaga, Kate Upton, Greta Thunberg, and Mother Theresa – all for their own reasons, of course.

I need to figure out how to display all my amazingness as quickly as possible.

What is the attention span of the average American male?

Five seconds?

Ten?

I need to work on my elevator pitch!