Category Archives: We’re Going to be OK

RANDOM: Sparks/Fireworks and Handy Manly

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I’ve written and rewritten this entry a million times, and it’s still not “right.” But I need to get these thoughts out of my head now, so I’m hitting “Publish”…

I had a great time with B on Saturday night. It was nice and comfortable and fun. I smile when I think about him or when he texts or I see his name in my email. (He’s started signing his emails with “Yours” and his name. It’s quite sweet.) Even friends to whom I’ve talked since the date have commented that they can “hear” my smile through the phone. And the ladies in the grief group commented on my smile and laughter last night as I recounted my weekend adventures – one of the ladies who also lost her husband and dad commented, “I like your life.”

(FYI: I’m smiling as I type this…)

Side note: Even if there’s no romantic relationship with B, I think we’d be good friends (but not Insurance Guy kind of friends!), and I’m so thankful that my first date was a positive experience. The experience proved that I CAN date, that I WANT to date, that the time is RIGHT.

But…

Two things keep swirling in my head:

  • Spark versus fireworks: I need to come to terms with the “getting to know” someone stage of dating. Having last dated in college (1995!), that step was nonexistent. I went to a small college – 1,000 students – so dating another student meant we knew everything about each other: hometowns, siblings, what (who) they did last weekend, past relationships, how smart they were. The basics. So when a boy in college took you to the Reflecting Pond and told you that he liked you, there were fireworks because damn, you liked him too – you KNEW him; you KNEW EVERYTHING about him. But things are different as an adult, especially someone pursuing a relationship through online dating. I don’t know anything about these guys, other than what they put in their profiles. (And I’m not sure much of that is accurate…) There’s a period of asking questions and telling stories and listening (and googling to make sure answers match up). Getting to know someone results in sparks and the butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling. Sparks are nice, but I want fireworks. I think fireworks might come after the “get to know” stage. God, I hope there will be fireworks someday with someone…
  • Handy Manly: B is very nice. Kind. Gentle. You can see it in his eyes and facial expressions, hear it in his voice. This guy is a NICE person. And that’s good – don’t get me wrong. But…I keep reflecting on something my mom asked on Sunday: “Is he a manly man?” Well, no, not really, I don’t think so. “Well,” said my mom, “You need to find someone handy – to fix stuff. Mike sucked at fixing stuff. You need someone who’s not soft.” Now, Mike wasn’t a manly man. In fact, he was far from it. He couldn’t build or fix things. He didn’t hunt or fish. I teased that he was “handy for a lawyer” but truth was Mike couldn’t saw, hammer, or wrench his way out of a paper bag. Sure, it would be nice to have someone “fix stuff” but that’s hardly my sole criteria for finding a partner. Hell, in the last year, I’ve learned to use a snow blower, hang shelves straight the first time, and fix a leaky toilet – I’m doing okay with handy stuff on my own. But her words keep ringing in my ears… I’ve been talking to B for almost a month now; we’ve been on exactly one date – “how handy are you?” hasn’t exactly come up in conversation but I don’t get the feeling that he’s super-duper handy. I think my mom’s whole criticism stems from my dad, who was extremely handy and very tough – he was manly, for sure. She compares all men against him, but quite frankly, men today are much different from those of her generation. If he’s nice and kind, why should it matter?

Add to the list criteria other people think I should/do have: does not run marathons and handy around the house. Oh boy!

First date with B

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What a ridiculously fantastic weekend! I’m exhausted from laughing and smiling and good conversation and…fun.

Friday, Ethan tested for his next taekwondo belt. He did great and will be receiving his high purple belt this week. I also met with the school system about transitioning Lauren to a speech program in the fall. She’s been tested and qualifies for a special group two days a week.

But then…

Saturday was the big first date with B. I wasn’t really nervous, but more anxious. I prepared thought starter questions, in case our conversation lulled. I researched the restaurant at which we were meeting to make sure I would be dressed appropriately and to get a sense of the wine list. I checked out a few different routes to get there, since there was a baseball game and traffic was sure to be a mess.

Sporting dressy denim, a black sweater (too low-cut? Major cleavage debates happened in my head before I decided a little peak of one – two? – of my best assets was probably okay), a bright turquoise scarf (he said he favors jewel tones), and black and pewter ballet flats (I suspected he might not be too tall so heels were a no), I set off for the restaurant. In my inability to ever be late, I arrived almost 20 minutes early. I drove around the neighborhood for a while before finding a spot in the small parking lot.

I surfed Facebook for a while. Called my sister to talk about my niece’s prom that night. Listened to empowering music. And tried not to sweat (40 degrees but air conditioning blazing).

About 10 minutes before we were supposed to meet, he called. “Dammit!” I thought as I looked at his name on my phone. “He’s standing me up. I knew it was too good to be true!”

I debated letting the call roll to voicemail, but decided to answer it. His voice was slightly higher than normal. He was obviously uncomfortable.

“You won’t believe this…” he began. “I am so excited to meet you, so looking forward to tonight…” Turns out, he locked himself out of the house. Keys in the kitchen. No way in. I laughed (maybe too much, too long), told him it was okay, and that I’d see him soon. (He finally got into the house by shimmying a window in the sun porch and unlocking the back door.)

I texted with a friend, filling her in on what was happening. “I’m sure he’s dying!” she wrote. Instantly, I realized that he was probably ridiculously embarrassed. It wasn’t long before B called again. He was at the restaurant. I told him that I was parked in the lot across the street and I’d meet him in a minute.

As I walked through the lot, I texted my friend to let her know he arrived. I looked up, and he was walking across the street toward me.

He looked slightly different from his photos, but not too different. His dark curly hair was a little longer. Great smile. Intense but very kind and gentle eyes. He was dressed well – denim, white button down shirt, tan blazer. Exactly the kind of look I find wildly attractive – casual, cool, smart.

He told me there was a bit of a wait for our table and asked if I would mind having a drink at the bar first. Um…no…drink would be great. We went upstairs to the bar and he ordered a couple of glasses of wine. We stood and talked for about 15 minutes. Any initial meeting with someone new, even if it isn’t a “date,” is a little awkward – getting into the conversation groove, sizing up and drinking in the other person, finding the right amount of eye contact, absorbing the new environment.

We talked and laughed and soon the awkwardness was gone. A couple offered us their seats at the bar, and we continued talking until our table was ready. We talked, and laughed, and smiled, and had fun for two hours before we decided we probably should order dinner. We talked about everything – our childhoods, our kids, our careers (very similar career experiences), our interests. He complimented me appropriately (not too much, not too little, very sincere). It was nice. There weren’t many conversation lulls.

When dinner came, we both eyed the other’s dish and agreed to sample each other’s. Sharing food, not something I usually do – especially someone I just met. But it was comfortable and seemed right and the swordfish looked amazing (and it was). Conversation continued. We talked for another two and a half hours before we felt pressured to leave (we were the last ones in the restaurant and lights were starting to turn on, chairs were being moved, tables set for the next day).

B walked me back to my car. We stood in the cool night, awkwardness back between us. It was that part of the night when things could go several different ways, and you don’t know which way it’ll go because you can’t read the other person’s mind, and you kind of know want YOU want to do, and you’re trying to read the other person… He was staring at me, and me at him. I broke eye contact and smiled, looking down. “God, I suck at this,” I thought, smiling.

We talked about how much fun we had, and agreed that we wanted to see each other again. And then he leaned in for a hug. It was nice, the feel of his arms, and a little awkward because it was our first physical contact – how close, how tight, which way to move your head – all awkward that first time. He kissed my cheek. We said good night. I drove home.

He sent me an email about 20 minutes after I got home, thanking me for a great night and reiterated that he wants to see me again. I fell asleep (HOURS later) still smiling.

Side note: I have incredible friends. While many people IRL didn’t know about this date, a few did and the text messages, FB messages, phone calls, and emails I received before, during and after the date were much-needed and very appreciated. Knowing that there are people rooting for you, people who have your back, people who love you so much that they want to just see you happy – it’s truly amazing. XOXO

Coming soon: How I spent my Sunday (another online dating story) and Things were good with B but…

James: how NOT to sell yourself via online dating

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It happened today. I received a message from the most stereotypical man on an online dating site EVER.

According to his profile and the message he sent to me:

James is unemployed. James lives in his parents’ basement. James dropped out of a two-year college. James is still married, but going through a divorce. James thinks he can turn invisible. James doesn’t like tattoos on women, but loves when they have piercings “down there.” James lists his hobby as playing on the computer all day. James plays D&D 15-plus hours a day.

James has a couple of photos with his profile. One features him wearing his “fancy” tie dyed tee-shirt. Another features James eating cake – such a large piece of cake that the food is obstructing his face.

James seems like kind of a loser.

This guy can’t be for real, can he? I mean, how is THIS information persuasive? He’s honest – sure, but how are any of these things selling points for a potential relationship? And what, in my profile, urged him to contact me? (Note to self: reread and edit profile ASAP.)

Relatedly (sort of), I’m meeting B – in person – tomorrow. I’m overcome with a million (conflicting) emotions about my first date since 1995. I can do this without making an ass of myself, right?

Scholarship

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I knew that Mike’s friends started a memorial scholarship at his former high school in his name. The $500/year scholarship will be awarded each year to a student interested in the theatre. (Mike was in several plays in high school, and continued acting in college on scholarship.)

A year ago, one of Mike’s friends called me to get my reaction to establishing the scholarship as part of the 20th class reunion. “Sounds fine,” I said. Since then, another friend sent me an announcement of the scholarship from the high school newsletter. I put the announcement away with other memorabilia from Mike’s life for Ethan and Lauren.

But today on Facebook, several of Mike’s friends from high school have posted/reposted a note about the scholarship and how it was established in his name by the school – and his parents – with a solicitation for donations to the fund.

WTF?

I’ve mentioned before that my kids aren’t in need of anything. I’m very fortunate that Mike and I had the foresight to have ample assets for the kids. But, come on… his parents haven’t contacted the kids in any meaningful way in more than a year.

I’m pissed that they’re going to give money, attention, and who knows what else, to a scholarship to strangers instead of thinking about their grandkids. Their ONLY grandkids.

(Again, my kids don’t NEED anything, but to get a random package from Grandma and Grandpa with some baseball cards or a princess book – or to know that there were contributions to a college fund for them – would go a LONG way to making my kids feel loved by those assholes.)

First phone call

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Note: This is another entry about online dating. But that’s kinda the biggest thing going on right now. The kids are both doing really well – except for Lauren’s horrific bout of the “terrible twos.” Job is good, the semester is coming to a close, and I’m on the schedule to teach four classes in the fall.

So, about this online dating thing…

Written last night:

Is it wrong to have downed two shots of vodka minutes before he’s supposed to call?

I’m nervous. Really nervous and I DON’T get nervous.

It’s just been so long since I’ve TALKED to a boy…

Nervous. Three minutes to go….

What if he’s a complete dolt? What if I am a complete idiot? I shouldn’t have taken those shots. But maybe they’ll give me the courage I need to actually have a conversation. Please don’t let me sound drunk (I don’t feel drunk, but don’t let me slur or say anything completely stupid…)

Why am I so damned nervous? It’s a fucking phone call! It goes well or it doesn’t. And if it doesn’t, it’s just a matter of “click” – hanging up.

Two minutes left until he calls… I’m hot, really hot, like hot-flash hot. I took off my fleece five minutes ago, but I’m sweating. Gross. Why am I so hot? Breathe, dammit!

One minute to go… Wonder how punctual he’ll be? Will he call exactly at 8? Or a few minutes after? How should I answer the phone? Why do I care? I need to act like I don’t care. Be nonchalant. Have at least some semblance of being cool, like “whatever, dude.” Oh, no, not that casual…

I’m walking to the front door. I don’t want to be sitting, waiting, staring at my phone when it rings. At least this way, I’ll have to walk to it – maybe get it by the third ring. Geez, Jax! Stop playing games. Just be yourself!

Oh my God. A BOY, no a MAN, is calling me in a few seconds. My eyes are on the clock, my fingers continue to type.

It’s 8. And… RIIINNNNGGG!

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B and I talked for two hours. TWO HOURS. The time flew by as we talked about everything and anything. It seemed like 30 minutes, not two hours. Questions were answered, laughs were shared, inappropriate and possibly questionable stories were told. Talking to him was easy, natural, fun.

We’d been “talking” by email for weeks, but this was the first time I heard his voice. It wasn’t quite what I imagined, but it was nice. Really nice. There was only one pause in the conversation around the one-hour mark – we acknowledged the awkward silence, laughed, and moved on.

He ended the conversation like this:

“This is the time, when if we were face-to-face, I’d take your hands, look into your eyes and tell you that I had a wonderful time talking to you tonight. I’d walk you to your door, and I’d be totally awkward standing there. Then I’d go for a hug. We can continue talking by phone or we can actually meet. Your decision, but I know what I’d like.”

(Yeah, it’s been a while since someone has said something nice like this to me. A long while. I can’t even remember when…)

B and I are making plans to meet this weekend, face-to-face, for reals.

On a related note, one of my mom friends is also doing the online dating thing on a different site (then we can compare notes – it’s been brilliant, actually). She went on a date last week with a nice man (I’ll call him “insurance guy”). He wasn’t right for her, but she thinks we’d hit it off. She sent me insurance guy’s online profile, and he appears…decent, interesting even. Maybe I’ll let her set me up with him… I understand this dating-as-an-adult thing is a trial-and-error process – I should keep all options open.