3739 Singles' groups, and more

Saturday, June 8, 2013

If I have seen farther than others, it is because I was standing on the shoulders of giants.  -Isaac Newton
If I have not seen as far as others, it is because giants were standing on my shoulders.  -Hal Abelson
In computer science, we stand on each other's feet.  -Brian K. Reed

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Meetup has a few local singles' groups that I joined.  I haven't gone to anything because I'm not really looking, plus they seem to concentrate on booze, bars, and bands, which don't interest me.  But I joined just so that if I ever wanted to check the local single males, I wouldn't have to plow through the several hundred NYC offerings to find the local singles' groups.

That "not really looking" is key to today's rant.

One of the local groups has sort of blown up.  Some guy wrote a group-wide email complaining that NONE of the women in the group seem to be really looking.  He complains that he constantly gets the brush-off at events, and on the few occasions when a woman consents to a date with him, it goes no further than a dinner or two or three, and no further.  He complains that the women in the group are not really interested in any relationship, at least no futher than a few free dinners.  He says that all the women seem to have already decided what they want in a man, specific criteria and high standards, a list of requirements that no man could ever meet (let alone the men who resort to Meetup - those are my words, not his).  He says the women go to meetups not to meet up, but just to socialize and reject.

He was then joined by other men in the group who agreed with him, a blizzard of whining emails.  (Not one woman responded with what I would expect to be the rational response - "Hey, fellows, maybe it's you.  Maybe you're turning them off.")

I think there's a very wide divide between men's and women's expectations at any event listed as for singles.  Women go thinking that the best way to find "the one" is to meet as many single men as possible, and this is one way to meet a bunch.  Men go thinking that wow, here's a whole bunch of women starving for sex, I ought to be able to get one of them for myself.

It's like the men think, hey, if you don't want to sleep with me, why are you here?  Why are you wasting my time?


Well, the organizer's response to the furor was a note to the women of the group, saying that if you're not "really looking", then maybe you shouldn't be a member of the group.   Um, is she saying that if you don't hook up with a certain number of the male members per year, you should drop out?  Isn't that procuring?

Are the women expected to prove that they are open to a relationship by sleeping around?
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3558 Get off my lawn! #2

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Given that on the internet you can be anything you want,

it's strange that so many people choose to be stupid.

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I don't understand English.  Lie, lies, lied.  So far, so good.  But one who lies is a liar.  Why not lier?  Where'd that "a" come from?


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The city of Kingston, NY, looks pretty sad.  (Well, to be technical, it's not Kingston, it's Ulster.)  Piper had told me that a lot of businesses were failing, and the number of jumpers off the bridges and other suicides had skyrocketed.  I don't know that for a fact, that's just what he said. 

Anyway, I went to the big local shopping strip, you know, Talbots, Coldwater Creek, Pier 1, a bunch of big box and chain craft, furniture, food, book, hardware, etc. stores along the highway, where everyone for a 30-mile radius shops, on Wednesday about 3 pm, looking for fans.

The parking lots everywhere were practically empty.  The few people I saw in the lots and stores were ancient.  Ancient enough that they were all bent over and moving very slowly.  Where was everyone else?  Not shopping, that's for sure.

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Remember when I said back during the Egyptian uprising that I was suspicious of the "help" of the Egyptian army?

Uh huh.  I told you so.

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The Republican party will have their convention in Florida.  They have banned water pistols, paintball guns, anything that will shoot liquids regardless of their degree of similarity to real guns, on the streets anywhere within x distance of the hall.

Um, they have not banned REAL guns, concealed or otherwise.  Details here: http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/politics/2012/05/water-guns-banned-handguns-allowed-at-gop-convention/

Duh?  I guess it makes as much sense as anything else these days.

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The Chinese seem to be mostly very sensible people.  But they screwed up royally with the "one child per couple" policy.  Yeah, it did what it was supposed to do to slow explosive population growth.  But now the chickens are coming home to roost.  The parents under that policy are getting older.  It is traditional that the children support the parents in their old age.  With five children, each adult child shouldered 1/5 of the burden.  But now each young couple has four elderly people to support, all by themselves, and they're having difficulty doing it.

Somebody didn't think ahead.

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I rarely watch team sports on TV.  Baseball was on in the background the other day.  I walked past, noticed, stopped, and watched for a while.  Huh?  I thought about that for a minute.  Why am I watching this?

The behinds.  Baseball players have pretty behinds.  I was watching their behinds, not the game.
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3462 Jasper says garbage trucks are scary.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Caring for the health of others - isn’t that a moral value?

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I don't care for most groups that define themselves as "metal". Seems like it's just noise with screaming. But check out the Swedish group "Therion". They seem to have had training in music theory, and the lead actually sings. Well, I haven't heard everything they've done, but what I have heard is interesting.

Go to Youtube and search for 'therion'. Don't watch the videos - just listen.

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I have a profile on OKCupid. It's usually disabled, doesn't show up, but occasionally I enable it to check the journals or profiles of others, or when I'm bored and want to see how random people answered questions. And then I can't disable it for a week, them's the rules ya know, so sometimes it's visible. I have a paragraph at the top saying that it's virtually invisible, and should be ignored. I still get the occasional nibble anyway. And I think about them.

Back when I had active profiles, I did meet some guys. I have a rule that I don't chat, or have extended email explorations, or phone calls. If we look at all interesting to each other, we meet someplace quiet but public immediately. I figure you can learn more about a person in one lunch than in weeks of emails or phone calls.

Partly that rule is because of one guy I'd corresponded with back in 2006. He owned a used bookstore just over the line in Connecticut and wrote the most beautiful emails. We clicked in philosophical matters. We couldn't seem to get our schedules in synch, so we corresponded for three months before we met, and by then I was half in love with him. Then one day we met.

He was a complete mess, physically and emotionally. He had severe edema in his legs, couldn't walk more than a few feet, and didn't know why because he hadn't seen a doctor about it. The skin was actually cracking and weeping. He had three dogs that literally were not allowed out of his sight. We couldn't go to the restaurant originally selected because there wasn't parking close to the outdoor dining area. We had to find a restaurant with a patio in sight of the parking lot so he'd be able to see the dogs in the car. And it was COLD and windy that day.

I was so disappointed, because by then ... well, I felt bad not just because I was crushed, but because I like to think I'm more interested in mind than body, but "maybe I'm fooling myself, maybe I'm a bad person for having so negative a reaction", and so on.

So after that, if you look interesting, we MEET, immediately, before you can crawl into my mind and heart and set up shop, and I'm forced to evict you.

Of course I haven't met anyone from those sites in years, not since the first date with The Man, but I remember what it was like.

Most of these guys seem to have a weird expectation. They seem to think that having agreed to meet, we already have some kind of relationship, a commitment. Like if there were anyone around to introduce me to, I'd already be presented as "my girlfriend". Some kind of Wild Western mail-order bride. And if you don't act like that, some of them get angry. If at the end of the meeting you indicate that you are happy to have met him but don't think we're a good match, they act like "why did you agree to meet me if you don't intend to follow through, why did you waste my time?" Yeah, I've heard those exact words.

I guess one way to handle that is to part letting him think you adore him, and then say no thanks from the safety of home. And that's another reason avoiding emails (except through the site) and phone calls is a good idea. I don't give out my contact info or my last name until the third date.

I guess it's because so many of those guys are desperate for a woman. That's all they want. A woman. Almost any will do. Some of them want only a vagina.

What do I want? (If I were still trolling online, that is....)

I DON'T want a man who
- needs a woman to complete his life.
- needs a housekeeper, maid, cook, or nurse.
- expects to move in together.
- starts out thinking we'll be getting married.
- wants someone to share expenses with that he can also sleep with.
- is willing to accept me before even knowing me.

I DO want a man who
- already is secure and happy alone.
- wants someone to share enthusiasms (museums, activities, festivals, travel) with.
- wants one or two weekends a month together (eventually), his place or mine.
- is willing to go Dutch on almost everything.
- doesn't need me, but learns to appreciate and want me.
- (Yeah, there are some bedroom requirements, too, but let's start with the basics.)

You know what? I think that kind of guy is extremely rare on online dating sites.
Wow. A light bulb just went on.
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3358 Past Flash

Sunday, September 18, 2011

For a true scientist, being wrong is just as interesting as being right.

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I'd mentioned TD&H* 1 and 2, who ran the gas station/quick shop in the village at the old house, and that TD&H 2, the younger brother, flirted heavily with me last summer, just before I moved. (We'd taken a ride, and sat by the river one afternoon, and he wanted me to go out for dinner and drinks. I said thank you, I'm flattered, but no, but he kept trying right up until I moved.)

Well, I still subscribe to the online news feeds for the village. TD&H 2 (age 47) was arrested today in a sting operation. He sold a beer to an underage undercover agent.

Why am I amused? Shaking my head, but amused.
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[* TD&H = tall, dark, and handsome.]

3240 That's why.

Monday, January 21, 2011

The Japanese have a term, muda, which refers to activity that doesn't add value.

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After the previous post, I was wondering why any man would have that "wanna get married" urge.

A few minutes ago I was standing on the porch when Hercules returned from work and pulled into the driveway across the street. It's full dark and cold, but the lights were on in the house, it looked warm in there, and I could catch glimpses of Daughter puttering in the kitchen.

I imagined his entering the house and greeting his six-months-pregnant wife ...

... and that's why.
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3239 Happy?

Monday, January 24, 2011

“Red flags when you’re dating don’t disappear after the wedding.”
-- Shelley at thehormonezone.blogspot.com --

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The green quotes up there are random, just the next one in my list, and seldom have anything to do with any post topic. But today, it almost applies.

I've been thinking about an old friend whom I haven't seen in a few years. He was one of my doctors in the '80s, and we became friends. At one point, he decided he wanted to get married, and married the first woman who said yes. Some men do that. They seem to suddenly decide it's time, and they'll fall madly in love with the first woman who'll have them.

They had two kids right away, and then ....

He confided in me that he was unhappy, because she seemed to make no effort anymore to make him happy. Stuff like he was on a strict macrobiotic diet (she and the kids weren't), so when he got home from the office every day, she had cooked dinner for herself and the kids, and had eaten, but had made nothing for him. And she'd make plans with her friends, and if it was something he didn't want to do, or people he didn't like, she'd just go without him.

I listened sympathetically and kept my mouth shut for a long time, until I'd about had it with his whines and complaints that "She doesn't make me happy."

I sat him down one day and told him, "Your happiness is not her responsibility! Not her job. Your happiness is your own job. Either you are happy in yourself, or you're not. Another person can increase your happiness, but they can't create it. So if you're not happy, it's because you're looking for someone to give it to you instead of making it yourself. And no, I can't tell you how to do that. You need to figure that out yourself. What I do know is that people like to share happiness, and to increase happiness that's already there. If you're happy in yourself, maybe she will be more willing to share it with you. You were happy yourself back when you first met, and happy when you were dating, and the two of you had a lot of fun, but then you, like, handed over the happiness generating job to her. It's not a job she signed up for."

He thought about it a long time. He found a few things that made him happy, got more involved with the kids and some external activities, some work on the house that made him proud. He did seem happier and more content. But eventually they divorced anyway. They really weren't suited from the beginning, had been dating less than a year when they married, and any of us watching could have told him that they had too little in common except that he wanted a wife and she wanted a husband, but, when a guy's in the "wanna get married" fever, nothing else matters.

I last saw him about five years ago. At that time he'd been dating a woman for a long time, maybe five or eight years. The ex had taken everything, including the house and a large chunk of support. He was living in the semi-finished basement of his chiropractic office and had the kids every weekend and most of the summer, and he seemed happier and more contented than ever.
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2628 Sex in the 60s, and the relief of death

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

There are no stupid questions, just stupid people.
-- South Park --

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On Hoda & Kathie Lee this morning, a woman was talking about menopause, what happens and why. She mentioned that women in their 60s and 70s report that sex is better, that they're having the best sex in their lives.

My immediate thought was "Hmmm. Yes. But I thought it was him, The Man, that he was doing it so well. Hey, maybe it's me!"

My second thought was that again, this is a self-selected sample.  The only ones who would report are those who are having sex, and they would be the ones who always liked it anyway.  Women in their 60s and 70s who don't like sex have long ago figured out how to avoid it, and menopause is the perfect excuse. 

My third thought was that women get shafted again.  For those of us who like and want it, it's better, it's wonderful, our libido is ramped up, but where are the capable men?  How does one go about finding a compatible man who can keep up with us and not leave us hanging?

Younger men, and their staying power.  That's the solution.  I lucked out in finding The Man, but (those red flags again**) I don't think he'll be good for the next decade and a half, and what do I do after I lose patience with him? 

Sigh.

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** In The Man's defense, the red flags don't involve sexual infidelity, believe it or not.  That's the one thing I am not at all worried about.  The flags have more to do with attention, interests, propinquity, intimacy, keeping secrets, differing values, a resistance to sharing lives, and on and on.  Things that at my age perhaps shouldn't matter so much, but I guess they still do.

On the other hand, if I were involved with a man who lived close, whom I saw a few times a week, who wanted me involved in his life and wanted to be involved in mine, who dragged me to family functions, who shared his problems with me, who wanted to advise and direct me, who MEDDLED!, I probably wouldn't be happy either.  I'd feel trapped and smothered.  I'd want some distance, some independence.

So.  Damn.

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I observed to a relative recently, when her daughter's diabetic cat died while in her care, that sometimes when someone we love, or a pet, is old and ill and caring for them has become a burden, when they die we may mourn them, but we are also relieved.

I didn't realize how much that was a part of my crash after Jay died.

People have asked me, if he were still alive, would we still be together, and I've always answered yes.  That's true whether he were healthy, or left ravaged by the brain cancer.  At the time he died, he was hemiparalyzed, unable to stand, sit, move himself or feed himself, incontinent, blind, sleeping no more than an hour at a time, and with absolutely no short-term memory.  But I still loved him, and if we had been able to stop the brain cancer and control all the other potentially fatal conditions he was prone to, even if he was left in that condition for decades, I'd have stayed with him and cared for him.

When he died, I was relieved.  I realize and accept that now. 

I didn't realize it then, because I mourned the loss of him in my life and all of what could have and should have been.  That was on top.  Underneath was the relief, and I think the inability to accept that feeling contributed to the multi-year depression that followed.

I think he was relieved, too.  So it's ok.
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1833 Sex and the Country Girl

Sunday, June 1, 2008

The post about Rape and Stuff has generated a few comments and a few private confessional emails, enough to convince me even further that 1 in 4 is too low. And I wasn't even counting simple physical harassment.

When I married Ex#1, and again when I married Ex#2, they each had a best friend, a buddy they'd known for years, best man at the wedding.

Ex#1 and I had a week together before he left for military duty in Germany, and then I was alone. One day, about a month after Ex#1 left, there was a knock on the door, and I found the buddy standing there. He said he'd had a fight with his wife, and wanted to talk. Naturally, I let him in, and within seconds he was all over me. At one point he grabbed me from behind, and I jumped up and came down with a high heel on his sneakered foot. I broke two toes. That convinced him I was serious, and he left, and as soon as he was out the door I called his wife, told her he'd been there, and that I was sending him home with a broken foot. She said "Thank you." I never told Ex#1, but he was angry with me after that because I never wanted to visit them.

Ex#2 and I had been married about two weeks when he had some second shift testing slots, and sure enough, one evening the best buddy came to visit. Again, he came on strong immediately, and couldn't seem to understand when I told him to get out. I literally had to swing a lamp to get him out. I called Ex#2 at work and told him what had happened. I don't know what was said between them, but the two remained friends. I just didn't have to see him ever again.

What really got me was the attitude of both buddies. They really truly seemed to feel that their friendship with my husband conferred a right to my sexual favors. They acted like it was some kind of social contract that I didn't seem to understand, that they had permission. That my husband would be willing to share, and I had no say in the matter.

Is there something I don't know? Some kind of male code?

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I saw the Sex and the City movie. I'm not going to say much about it, except that it was pretty much like the series, ties it all up neatly. If you liked the show, you'll like the movie, if you don't know the show, you probably won't "get" the movie.

I want to talk about the audience.

It's a small multiplex in the village, the kind with about 100 seats in each theater, and audio spillage from the movies on either side. Ironman and Indiana Jones happened to be showing on either side. Bleck. You have to practice selective hearing.

Anyway, with those two also showing, I couldn't understand why there were ANY men in S&tC. About 1/4 of the seats were filled for the 5 o'clock showing. It was mostly groups of women, but there were a few men with women. I guess there are still women out there who won't go to a movie alone, and men who will humor their women. (I know that The Man would absolutely refuse to escort me to something like S&tC!)

I was amused to see one man there alone, and more amused to see four all-male couples, couples who leaned into each other.

One man/woman couple behind me reminded me why there are several men in my history in whom I had lost interest immediately after attending a movie with them.

The guy had to comment constantly, in a normal volume voice, on what was going to happen. Obvious stuff. Like Big says he's going to build Carrie a larger closet. Later, he leads her to a closed door, and says, "Open it." The genius behind me says, "It's a closet." Carrie opens the closet door. Samantha sees a dog for sale, and looks at it with raised eyebrows. Genius says, "She's gonna buy the dog." Samantha buys the dog.

This was like every 30 seconds!

I have to wonder.
Does he always verbalize every thought that drifts through his pea brain?
Is he trying to illustrate how perceptive he is?
Does he really think his date is too stupid to interpret what she's seeing?

I was very tempted to turn around and ask the woman that last question - "Excuse me, but does he always assume you're too stupid to figure things out for yourself?"

Next time, I sit in the last row.
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1813 Meeting Men

Thursday, May 15, 2008

I'm not looking for a man right now, thank goodness, but I'm aware of another young lady who is, and there doesn't seem to be anyone available and suitable among her immediate acquaintances. She asked how one goes about meeting guys.

I've been thinking about it. That's a hard one.

A year and a half ago when I wanted to meet men, lots of people had lots of suggestions, none of which were very helpful.

Internet dating.
Suitable. Suitable is a requirement. I met lots of men, but none of them were suitable. Maybe with exactly the right profile, and maybe with "winking" at every guy who seemed sane, maybe eventually it would have worked (Daughter met Hercules through Cupid.com), but I think the field is much more fertile for younger people than for my age group. Some of the guys I met were very emotionally damaged, and very desperate.

Church activities.
I'm sure that one might meet some very nice guys at church activities, but do I want a guy who's big on church activities? Uh, no, not especially.

Sierra Club, and Mohonk "singles' hikes", ski club, etc.
I'm sure one would meet healthy guys there, but do I want a guy who's seriously into hiking or skiing? Uh, no. Walking in the woods, yes. Hiking, no. Skiing, hell no. Besides, on the few singles hikes I went on, the only single guys were with dates.

Volunteering, Habitat for Humanity, etc.
I had high hopes for that one, especially Habitat. A guy big on volunteerism would be fine, and liking working with his hands is nice. Unfortunately, most of the people I've met through volunteering have been female. The few single males were downright nasty or decrepit.

Bars.
Single men my age don't go to bars alone unless they're alcoholics.

Folk dancing groups.
Probably lively men, but unlikely to be single, unless they're REALLY into folk dancing, and, uh, I'm not all that sure about a man my age who's really into folk dancing.

Ballroom dancing class.
Yeah, sure. The only men there were dragged in by women, and there were more women than men.

Community parties and small business networking.
This was one of the more likely areas. There were some suitable single men, and there were some possibilities there. But the competition was fierce and potentially vicious.

And so on.

I've concluded that you can't look at it as finding where there might be men in general. You have to first define what a suitable man is like, and where he's likely to be, and then go there.

A man I'd likely find suitable is unlikely to be a hiker, or skier, or dancer, or churchy guy, so there's no point in my looking there.

I'd need to join the local computer club. I find the topics boring, I wouldn't be there for myself, but it's more likely to have suitable single men.

About 1 in 100 men in Mensa are likely to be suitable, and luckily, I met one. Very lucky, in fact, since that was the first and only gathering he'd ever attended, and having attended a second with me, he swears he'll never go to another. So, there are suitable Mensa men, but they're rarely found through Mensa (Catch 22).

In conclusion, it's just like hunting. Standing around in a field is accepting any skunk or possum that comes along. If you're after big game, define your prey, figure out where it's likely to be found, then go there.

Don't forget to bait your trap.
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1712 Aggression in Turkeys, and Others

Sunday, March 2, 2008

I have dinosaurs in my front yard. The wild turkey flock (I keep wanting to call it a herd) is getting big. I counted thirty yesterday, and some of those birds are huge - footprints seven inches long! I have several wild cherry trees, and every time it snows, the turkeys come and scratch away the snow under the trees, right down to bare ground. They look like a herd of velociraptors, and if they've found a lode of dried cherries, they're about as docile.

I briefly searched for an uncopyrighted turkey photo that had something for size reference, that I could stick in here. No luck. Just look at the chair you're sitting in. When they are bent over pecking at the ground, their back is higher than the chair seat.

Now put thirty of those monsters pecking cherries between you and your mailbox.

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A good point was made on a talk show this morning - that when a primary campaign gets negative, that gives fodder to the other party for the later campaign.

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Blogger spellcheck is back! Welcome. I missed you.

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I have a younger male friend who has had bad experiences with women. They tend to go a bit nuts on him, do crazy things when he tries to break up with them. One after another. Not just getting mad, but damaging property or even him. Police intervention on some. I think I know him well enough to know that he doesn't lead them on excessively or mistreat them, to where even sane women would want revenge - they just overreact and get vicious.

Well, maybe he does contribute. He tends to shut down, become impenetrable when he doesn't want to talk about something. That can drive a woman mad. But still, we don't all pick up bricks when we're angry.

So now he's woman-shy.

I told him that not all women are like that. Maybe he just selects for that type. Maybe one of the things that attracts him is passion, assertiveness to the point of aggression. Maybe he finds off-kilter intriguing. He's a bit of a nerd, so a woman would have to be a bit aggressive to get his attention. A sane less aggressive woman could flirt with him all day and he wouldn't notice.

So that got me thinking about my own selections.

Under "What I'm looking for" in my online dating profile (moribund for the past year, by the way), I said "bigger, smarter, and faster" than I am. (Which, by the way, I seem to have found, and not through the profile.) Anyway, in my dating history, I have always fallen for men whom I found very masculine. Someone who is strong and will take the lead, who can reason circles around me, but who is smart enough to appreciate my own smarts. I like men who are strong and definite and protective. I like to feel ultra feminine around my man. I need to smell the testosterone.

But in all the men I've chosen, there's always been one thing that ends up distressing me, and yes, I realize now that I initially chose that man precisely because of that. I reject men who don't have that quality, that characteristic. Pretty much the same way the young man above chooses women with a characteristic that ends up distressing him.

Wow. This is a stunning realization! Maybe I'm on my way to fixing it.

The problem? I tend to end up with men who are not sexually aggressive. Oh, they want it, and like it, and are very good at it, and hope all the time, and respond well, and all that - after all, I choose very sexy men who reek of testosterone blah blah blah. But the men I choose almost never initiate. I have to reach out and invite. And I hate that. I know that if I initiate, he will respond, so I feel like it's up to me to decide whether he may be too tired, or not in the mood, or needs his sleep for tomorrow, or ... whatever. And I can't ask, because - the men I choose - no matter what, if he thinks I want to, he'll accommodate me. I don't like having to make that decision all the time. I have to think about what's best for him.

I feel a little guilty now, because I let Jay sleep a lot in 2000, thinking he needed his sleep, what with all the chemotherapy and so on, not knowing that the surgery in January 2001 would end even the possibility. I suspect he may have wanted more. But he never would have made the first move. That decision was always mine, and I wonder now if I made the right one.

What I want is to be taken. To be "owned". Once we're intimate, I've always said "any time, anywhere, any way", and that torn clothing is just fine as long as they're willing to replace it. In fact, I'd rather like torn clothing. Sexual aggression, being passionately taken, is what I want, and I rarely get it from the men I choose.

Of course it's been obvious all along why this happens. I just never realized that I was actively rejecting sexually aggressive men, choosing more ... passive? no ... sensitive? no ... something-or-other men.

What happens is that early in the dating dance, I lose interest in a man as soon as he touches me without permission anywhere except my hands. Even just an arm around my shoulders will turn me off. He can't put an arm around me until I have snuggled into his shoulder to signal acceptance. Any man who touches me in any intimate way (and with me that's pretty much anywhere but the hands) before the first date will never get a first date. I never knew, until now, why I'd lose interest. Some guy would grab a quick hug, and I'd think "well, he's a nice guy, but I don't think we're compatible", without thinking about why we "weren't compatible". I guess because it's not reasonable for me to be turned off by a hug, I couldn't recognize that as the problem.

The men who passed the test were those men who were sensitive to and respected those signals. Gentlemen.

And then later, after we're intimate, I'm dissatisfied when he still waits for and respects the signals.

Hmmmmm. Where did that come from.

This probably goes back to my twenties, when I was emotionally fragile, and was taken advantage of by unscrupulous men. Many. It's like they can smell weakness. Wolves. Men who have no respect for any women in any way. Then in my mid-thirties, after several years of psychotherapy, I found me, and I got strong. I insist on respect now. And I guess one indicator of respect, in my mind, is that you don't touch me without permission.

So I select for men who demonstrate the proper respect. That turns out to be men who wait for me to initiate.

How do I fix that? I don't want to trade in the man I have now, but would it involve changing a basic part of his personality? I've already made it pretty clear verbally that he doesn't need specific permission, anywhere, any time, and I know he's capable of it. He surprised me once. I loved it! And I didn't even make him replace anything. How can I make that happen more often? Maybe I can suggest we take turns, and hey, it's your turn!
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1343 Complications

Sunday, July 1, 2007

The decision as to whether to go to the fireworks has been made for me. There's a gusty breeze high in the trees, and the maple trees are showing the undersides of their leaves. Sure sign of rain.


If I'm wrong, I can still see the higher chrysanthemums from my deck, so I think I'll stay home, warm, and dry.

There were actually about 12 people at NJ's last night. I forgot to count the Pilot and the Nurse. It's interesting that among so few people, there was so much going on underneath. We've all known each other entirely too long.


It was last year at this time, at NJ's, that the proverbial poop hit the fan, as regards Roman and me. I'm sure a lot of people were wondering what is now going on with us. It was obvious we are friendly, even affectionate, which I'm sure blows people's minds, given what had happened. I'm a little surprised he showed up last night. Pond scum and all.

He made a point of several times mentioning "the woman I had been dating", ensuring that everyone knew they had broken up. We left together, and if anyone had been watching from the window, they'd have seen a hug and a very small kiss. They'd have seen both cars go through the stone gateway one after the other. What they couldn't see is that at the end of the access road, I turned north, and he turned south. What they don't know is that's the way it is now. That's pretty much the way it has to be. Hello hugs and goodbye kisses, and nothing much in between.

Dirty Dave broke up with his several-year girlfriend more than a year ago, and he's not over her yet. He finally figured out that she didn't really like him at all, that she was using him. He said she has lived the grasshopper life, and has found herself in her late 50s with no savings, and all she wanted was someone who would pay for her fun.

The poor guy wants a woman.

I opened the can of worms when I asked him if he'd done any travelling lately (that was his retirement plans), and he said no, that he hates travelling alone. He had tried to get back together with a prior girlfriend, and it actually looked promising, but he said that the 15-year age difference, that hadn't mattered at all when he was still working and dating her, is now suddenly a problem, because he has all this free time, and she has none. She has a lousy two weeks of vacation, and the occasional day off, and they just can't travel like he wants to. It's frustrating.

(He doesn't know what my involvement is these days, but as he went on about it, I felt like he was talking directly to me. Yeah, I understand more than he knows.)

I reminded him that he'd always said that he prefers women his own age. Maybe he needs a woman who is willing and able to pay her own way. Maybe all he needs is a platonic travel companion (implying, of course, me). I swear I said that innocently. (I want to travel. I need a travel companion, too.)

Twenty-some years ago, DD and I'd had a very brief fling, pushed together by NJ and May, who had thought we were ideal for each other. The only other person in the room who knows I had slept with DD is Roman, and it bothers him a lot. I have absolutely no sexual interest in DD. None. I have no desire whatsoever to repeat the experience. When I saw the look on Roman's face, and the look on DD's face, I wanted to say that, make it clear, or withdraw my suggestion. Bleck. Foot in mouth again.

There was a woman there who is at least ten years older than I. Back in March, a new member came to NJ's Green Eggs and Ham, and I noticed that this woman seemed fascinated by him. The expression on her face when she looked at him, the way she engaged him in intense conversation, the way she leaned into him. Last night, it was obvious she was still fascinated by him. When he left, he hugged her tightly and asked her when he'd see her again. And later, she said something about how the night before, she'd forgotten that she had xx in the refrigerator, so he and she'd "had no dessert after dinner." She'd cooked him dinner the night before? Wow. Why wow? He's got to be 40 years younger than she.

Wow. I'd love to know what's going on there.

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Post script - The next October, Roman decided to go to Israel to visit his Daughter, and invited me to go with him, as a "platonic travel companion".  I turned him down (I wanted to go, but The Man wasn't too happy about the idea, and pointed out that he being a man himself, he knew durn well what Roman was thinking.)  Wow.  I wonder if Roman got the idea from the conversation with DD.
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1202 The Lost Nation

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

It wasn't a three hour lunch with Piper today - it was only two hours, plus the half hour we spent in his office going over my taxes.

The Angel didn't include the 111.5 hours, 1,127.1 miles, and 38.02 in tolls for 2006 volunteer work, which bugged me. I was under the impression that starting 2006, you could deduct x dollars for the hours and x cents for the miles in addition to the tolls. All that record keeping for nothing.

Piper was willing to bounce it back to The Angel to redo it, but I said it probably wouldn't be worth it unless it dropped me a bracket, so I let it go. But (evil me) I might call The Angel after the crush is over, and tell him that Piper said that The Angel would cover it out of his own pocket. Just kidding. (Piper freaked anyway. The Angel is famously tight.)

As we were finishing up, another client came in, a thin dark man about our age. Piper introduced us, saying that the man was from Belorus (used to be Byelorussia), and invited him to lunch with us (at the tavern instead of the cafe, which pleased me).

The man had a thick accent, so I occasionally missed a phrase, but the conversation was amazing, covering Baltic history and politics, Stalin and Tito, the history of the coexistence of Jews, Muslims, and several varieties of Christians in the area. Mostly it was the new guy and me against Piper, which was satisfying (but don't tell him that). I had Jamaican scallops, and they were very good, and at the end of the meal a glass of wine was mispoured and needed a home, so I got that, too. Free.

Piper said that the Belorussian had been trying to get Piper to visit Belorus, that it was mountains, sea shore, and orchards. The man was going back for a visit this fall, and it turned out that he'd be there at the same time that Piper and his lady were going to be on the east coast of Italy. The Belorussian talked Piper into arriving in Italy a few days earlier, and taking a ferry from Bari, a four hour trip across the Adriatic Sea, "and you'll arrive only ten minutes from my home. You'll love Belorus." He was very clear that Piper would be visiting Belorus.

People with a better grasp of geography should be raising eyebrows about now. I merely felt a little confusion.

When Piper got up to talk to some people at the bar (he knows everyone in town, it seems) the Belorussian turned to me and said that he had very much enjoyed our conversation, and would like to continue it, "just you and me", some evening.

I blinked twice, and stammered, "I enjoyed it too, but if you mean that in a romantic way, I can't. I'm not available."

He blinked twice, and said, "Ok. Just talk. You decide."

And then Piper returned, and we went back to the office, where I gathered up my papers and left the two of them. I went to the mall, shopped a little, and got my glasses adjusted. As soon as I got home, I dragged out the big atlas and looked up Belorus, Bari, and the Adriatic coast.

Uh huh. Belorus is, as I suspected, nowhere near the Adriatic. It's further north, completely landlocked, bordered by Russia, Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, and the Ukraine.

Across the Adriatic from Bari is Albania and Croatia. I checked carefully for maybe an Albanian or Croatian town named "Belorus", but nada. I know there has been some political shuffling around there since that atlas was printed, but not that extreme!

Something's wrong. I'm gonna lug that atlas into Piper's office tomorrow and ask him what he thinks, where he thought that ferry ride was going.

So then about 6 pm, the phone rang, and it was the guy. He asked if he could come over to talk with me this evening. "Come over? Here? This evening? [Read with rising panicked tone.] Uh, no. Perhaps we could meet like at the diner, some afternoon. Coffee. Talk there. Not here. No."

It was a short conversation, after which I made sure the doors were locked. Deadbolted.

I gotta talk with Piper! I just remembered his lady has a doctor's appointment tomorrow. Oh, dear.

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It's funny. I had all those online dating profiles out there, and nothing but duds, gradually petering to no nibbles at all. I kill the profiles, and suddenly men are dropping from trees. Good ones, bad ones, big ones, small ones, fat ones, tall ones. I could take my pick. I'm rather pleased that the one flirtation I decided to follow up on, whom I suspect I chose precisely because he seemed impossible (fear of actually finding someone, Silk?) looks like it might get interesting.

Scary, but interesting.

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Later addition:
I am now entering my 43rd hour awake, and it's odd for a little old lady, but I'm neither physically nor mentally tired. I feel like I could keep going. Must be all that end-of-release overtime training in The Company. My eyes, however, have been red and swollen all day, and now they're getting dry. Makes me wonder how many hours I could do if I could just close my eyes occasionally without necessarily sleeping.
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