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.

Glow in the dark

I have this friend.

We’ll call him Bob.

Bob is fiendishly obsessed with pornography.

I know this because he admitted to me that he masturbates close to ten times a day.

I didn’t know that was even POSSIBLE.

Seems like someone who can do that shouldn’t be a Senior Construction Engineer, but a porn star.

Clearly, the man has a talent.

Or an imbalance.

You be the judge.

Bob and I used to sext.

He gave good sext, I like to say.

He was graphic without being disgusting.

He used punctuation properly.

Nothing worse than a poorly typed sext message.

Yes, I am a grammar snob.

Bob liked to send dick pics, and lots of them.

And there was something remarkable about these pictures.

Bob’s UNIT virtually GLOWED IN THE DARK.

It was so well-polished from years of [ahem] use.

You may be wondering why I’m telling you all this and the answer is simple.

Yesterday, Bob called to tell me that he’s getting married.

That’s right.

Married.

Now, if a guy who masturbates 10 times a day (honestly, who has the time?) can meet a woman, fall in love, and get engaged, then there’s HOPE FOR ME!

And don’t you feel a little bit sorry for his bride-to-be?

I’ll bet he’s on her like white on rice!

Wish Me Luck

I went ahead and changed my Match.com profile to THIS.

And ever since I did, my “phone” has been ringing off the hook.

One guy called my profile refreshing.

Another man apologized for all the creeps out there.

And yet another referred to my profile as “honest and funny.”

So far so good.

I haven’t received any dick pics or any requests for guys to “cum in my ass” so that’s a plus!

Maybe this profile will filter out the majority of the sex perverts and unavailable men.

One can hope.

Because I’ve met Bob.

Bob is a big guy. Heavily tattooed. With a nice trim beard.

Exactly what I look for, no?

Well, we shall see.

He did text me at 5 O’CLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING.

Just to let me know he was up.

These are the things I DON’T NEED TO KNOW.

You know?

Not at 5 o’clock in the morning, anyways.

Despite his unfortunate lack of sensibility when it comes to early morning communications, I like Bob.

He seems like a nice guy, albeit an intimidating one what with his LANDSCAPE of tattoos.

Wish me luck!

I want to be a redhead

In the process of looking up hairstyles for this weekend’s Great Gatsby birthday party, I became overwhelmed and decided that a wig might be the best way to go.

A quick search for “Gatsby wig” and “Roaring 20’s wig” returned a wide selection of short wavy bobs.

And I am not a bob kinda gal.

So I searched for long finger wave hairstyles and came up with the following, all of which I think would be appropriate for a Gatsby party.

waves waves
waves waves

 So I looked for a long wavy wig and came across the following:

redheadNow, I’m a (bottle) blonde, but I’ve had a full head of black hair which made me almost unrecognizable. And there was even that unfortunate incident in college where I dyed my hair brown. But I have never been a redhead.

And I kinda want to try it out.

Not for reals, of course. Just a red wig I can wear to burner parties and try out a new look.

Of course, it may be less of me wanting to be a redhead and more of me wishing I could look like the model that is motivating me.

Still… could be fun to be a redhead!