Blind Date

Wherever you go, no matter what the weather, always bring your own sunshine.
Anthony J. D'Angelo

I shouldn't be writing this at this time. I've just gotten home from my blind date at which I had two, what seemed to be, king-size, dirty martinis. Now, I've decided to end my night sitting on my deck drinking a nice glass of Castle Rock Pinot Noir listening to this relaying to you the minutia of my blind date this evening.

Oh, good Lord (my new fav exclamation for all the the things that Life is throwing my way these days)! If only I could spend the 45 minutes getting my makeup and clothes just perfect for the perfect guy all would be right with the world, but as it is, I do it all for... eh, whatev.

Yeah, my kingdom awaits, but not with this date.

I arrived at the semi-classy establishment early enough to get a place far enough at the end of the bar so as not to be the conspicuous - "this-couple-is-obviously-on-a-blind-date" people. I actually saw a guy across the bar from me who I thought could possibly be my date, so I asked the bartender to inquire as to his name. Alas, he was not "the he." I sat and waited.

I thought I should, for etiquette's sake, wait to order my cocktail until the gentleman arrived (although, with my nerves of meeting a total stranger upon me, I definitely wanted to f@ck etiquette and get my damn martini : ).

Finally (ten minutes later) this guy walks in and sits down slightly catty-corner, across the bar from me. I had the feeling it was my date, but I decided I would let him find me, i.e., I was just gonna watch him squirmishly look around. Aw, I put him out of his misery soon enough and gave a wave his way indicating I was most likely the one he was looking for.

He came over, sat down and I ordered my martini, which (I think) led him to order a nice scotch on-the-rocks.

Physically, he wasn't unattractive, he just wasn't really "my attractive." But I was open to him charming and impressing me into some sort of chemistry-of -the-mind that he could parlay into, at the very least, some forceful, future attachment.

It wasn't happening for me. Though he must have felt comfortable enough with our conversation that by the time we finished our first drink he asked if I was ready to order another. And, yes, I was.

We drank our second round discussing his relocation to the city in which we reside. He said he had come back with his finance and bought a home so as to be closer to his mother, who at the time, was battling cancer. His mother overcame her illness, his relationship with his finance did not. After four years being together they parted ways. It had now been two years since the time of their break-up.

I'm a good questioner (and listener). It comes from a genuine place of interest. I truly think I could have probably parlayed it into a good legal career - I'm that inquisitive. Whatever he revealed, I just asked him for further information of interest.

At some point he mentioned that he hated working for someone else and that he wanted to have his own business. I asked him if he had ever read., "The Four Hour Work Week." He hadn't, so I suggested that he might, because it does deal with a lot of the things he talked about business-wise.

He was a good, kind guy, but he needed to find a girl... different from me.

One thing I know for sure, whatever my intellectual capacity is, or isn't, is that I need to be intellectually stimulated. I need someone who challenges my mind; who makes me want to know more about life and my place in it. My blind date wasn't that kind of guy.

I can probably overcome a lack of physical chemistry, but a lack of mental chemistry is a deal-breaker.

Truthfully, the thing I liked most about him is that he told me he sets his thermostat at 68º at night when he sleeps. I do love sleeping feeling like you need a blanket (or guy!) wrapped around you.

In the middle of writing this post I got a text message from an unfamiliar local number that read, "Ms. M. - I want to apologize for boring you with my drunken ramblings. It was great to see you."

I was confused. I was sure I hadn't given my blind date my last name or my phone number. But I thought maybe the girl who set us up had (although I didn't think even she knew my last name).

I texted back, "As popular as I am I'm replying 2 who I think may b my top 3 contenders. So, which 1 r u? ; )"

A text shortly arrives that says, "Makes me feel better that there were three - D.S.

Mystery solved. D.S. was a classmate from my high school reunion, one of the many I hadn't seen, or heard from in thirty years! He actually goes back even further than that, as he came to my Catholic elementary school in 7th grade.

Then he text, "Who were the other ones besides K. (another guy from high school)?

I reply, "Went on blind date 2nite!

He text, "And....?"

I answer, "He asked if Animal Farm had 2 do w/ horses."

He text back, "Did you go on a blind date with P.D.? (P.D. was another guy in our class at the reunion). Sorry, but I had to laugh at the dis. I guess D.S. must not think too much of P.D.

The next thing I know, my cell phone rings. I answer and it was D.S. It was cool because we talked for about forty-five minutes (he was on a business trip, he said he was in NYC, but who knows, he could have been in Cairo, or Moscow; I think he works for the C.I.A.) and got to have a real conversation versus the chit-chat that's about the only kind of talking that can take place at a reunion with people you haven't seen in years.

D.S. is happily married (and I wouldn't be into him in a romantic way even if he wasn't). But he is the kind of guy that's solid and thoughtful, someone who it is definitely nice to be re-connected with. And I hope that our friendship, now re-established, will be something that continues.

After getting off the phone with D.S. and finishing my wine I had to think that the final analysis of my blind date that evening was: NEXT!

Wanting In and Wanting Out

"I can't change the direction of the wind,
but I can adjust my sails to always reach my destination."
Jimmy Dean

I went to my physical therapy appointment for my knee Tuesday afternoon (I still go twice a week working at getting my strength and flexibility fully back). This Tuesday I walked in with a badly swollen knee.

I woke up Sunday morning (okay, it was late afternoon, I mean it was my reunion night, I didn't even get to bed 'til 4:00 a.m.) and my knee (the one I had my ACL reconstructive surgery on) really hurt. When I looked at it it was swollen like a fat balloon.

Of course the night before I didn't feel like I had done anything to injure it. I even had to dash from my car to the bar in the rain wearing high heels and I didn't notice anything hurting (yeah, yeah, I had a few beers, but not THAT many!).

However, the next day I did remember, once, while at the dinner event, going to the ladies' room (which being near the kitchen entrance must have had a little grease on the floor) and slipping slightly on the floor before I entered. But I didn't think anything of it (other than to be careful the next time I went in there).

Anyway, when I walk in to do my rehab on my knee I showed my physical therapist and he was like, whoa, worried that because it was so swollen I may have re-injured my ACL. He checked it and it was fine, but he told me that I needed to make an appointment with the doctor and needed to take it easy. He just wanted me to put it up and ice it while I was there.

So, I'm there icing my knee, perusing through Surfer Magazine (in my next life I wanna be a surfer groupie) and this girl (woman - she's 47) who's had a shoulder surgery and has been doing her PT overlapping mine came in. She asks why I'm icing and my physical therapist tells her I was out dancing all weekend (not far from the truth) in my heels and hurt my knee.

She's sympathizing with me and then out-of-the-blue asks me if I'm single. I tell her yes, and then she says that she knows two single guys and would I be interested in meeting them? I'm like, give me details. She says one is 42, 5'9, a little nerdy and wants kids (she threw that in there), the other one has four kids and sounded less interesting (to put it gently).

The last date I went on was probably a blind-date eight years ago, in which much of the time my mind was occupied with how the girl who set us up could have been so blundering in her selection of us a partners! Yeah, it didn't go well.

The last time I went on a date where I was really into the guy was at least ten years ago! I obviously do not have a great history of dating.

I told this girl that if she wanted to get together casually, with him included, I could be up for that. I mean, I basically told her that I can talk to a five year old or an eighty-five year old, but tell me I'm on a date and all the sudden... crickets.

She was all over my "yes." Texting the guy right away my stats: hair and eye color, height, age (she was very surprised when I told her I was 47 - I love it when people think I'm so much younger!) etc. Once again, I'm like, Lord, what am I getting myself into?

So, we made the plan to meet for drinks after they get off work Friday afternoon. She and I would meet at 4:30 p.m. and then he would be joining us at 5:00.

Then, tonight I get a call from her, and she tells me she's going to have surgery done on her shoulder in the morning to remove scar tissue, so she won't be able to make it! Ugh. I was like, I guess I can be a big girl and meet him on my own.

And that's what I going to be doing tomorrow afternoon. Wish me luck!

Decisions

It is always your next move.
Napoleon Hill

A few post back I wrote about the dilemma I have been feeling regarding what exactly my next course of action should be regarding my frozen eggs. I'm sure you would assume that prior to even beginning the process of freezing my eggs I would have thought my way through what my options are. And your assumption would be correct, sort of.

The BIG problem I've always faced in this "whole thing" is that I have not wanted to go the route of donor sperm, or I should say, anonymous donor sperm bank. I guess it's a block I have and I don't think I can overcome it. What makes perfect sense for one person doesn't necessarily make sense for someone else. I basically just don't want my kids to have thirty (or more!) step-siblings which is a distinct possibility going with the sperm bank option.

And the moral issues really were brought to my attention front and center this past Father's Day. I'm not sure how it happened. I think I read one article with a bunch of links to other articles, this one in particular struck me as to how complicated it can be for all parties involved - and how un-ideal the donor sperm bank option is for me.

I've tried to think, is there any guy out there who I could possibly see as a.) an acceptable candidate, b.) willing, and c.) carries with him the least amount of potential baggage? Let me tell you, it's not easy to meet even two of those criteria!

But there is one guy who I have gone back and forth on in the could-he-be-a-possible-candidate game. Oh my word, he's got some baggage, but on Monday evening I finally bit the bullet and called a friend of mine who knows how to get in touch with him (I lost touch years ago). I didn't tell my friend the reason why, I just asked him to get his phone number. I haven't got it yet, but something is in motion.

Believe me, I've got more to talk about on all of this but I'll leave it at: I made a first move.

Photos of my Reunion Outfits

The top photo is what I wore to the Friday night cocktail party. The bottom one is the outfit I picked for Saturday's cocktail and dinner. Like I said everything I had on was pre-1999, but I think it worked out fine so... Friday night I wore my hair up in a ponytail, Saturday I let hang down (I rarely feel comfortable enough to do that!)

Come and Gone

"One faces the future with one's past." ~ Pearl S. Buck

So, my 30th high school reunion has now come and gone.

I met with my friend, S. (the girl whom I mentioned I hadn't seen or spoken to in thirty years) Friday night before the reunion cocktail party. She looked great. She was always a pretty girl with dark hair and striking blue eyes but in high school she had, what I'd call, heft, to her. I mean, she was the kind of girl on the playing field who you didn't want to get entangled with. Now she's completely toned, fit and athletic - she looked great.

I ordered a dirty martini and she had a white wine and I first got caught up on her. She got married later in life (38) to a career military man and has two kids; a ten year old girl, and a seven year old boy, who, apparently, is like the Energizer bunny, keeps going and going. We finally got around to opening the yearbook and the years just melted away. So many people to recall and stories to reminisce about. But, soon enough, we headed over to the event just a few block away - fashionably late.

When we arrived their was a check-in table where you picked up a name tag with your senior photo displayed. Next, they had us fill out a questionnaire, things like, favorite movie, t.v show, what you've done in the past thirty years that most surprised you. When they asked favorite pastime I couldn't help but write, s-e-x! For me, it's probably a case of what you get least, you want most, but I'll save that topic for another post.

I went to a fairly small Catholic high school and I'd say we probably had sixty classmates (out of about 185) come (the furthest being from Germany). And considering who put the weekends events together (a few beer-drinking guys) we were lucky for that good of a turn out.

So, six hours, quite a few Heinekens, and loads of laughter later, the first night's festivities came to a close. It had been special and I had seen people across the room that I didn't even get a chance of talking to who I looked forward to catching up with the next evening.

I think one of the most interesting things for me to note was how many of my classmates, both guys and gals, had small children. Numerous girls had five years olds and there were guys with newborns and toddlers.

On Saturday, I was pleasantly (blessedly) surprised out how physically well I felt (being able to wake up after twelve hours of sleep didn't hurt!)

I met S. again on Saturday night so we could walk into that evenings sit-down dinner party together. And not long after I arrived the lead organizer of the reunion called me aside and said he needed to talk with me. My first thought was, I can't possibly be in trouble for writing that sex is my favorite pastime, can I?! He explained he needed a favor. Uh oh. Good Lord, I thought, what could it possible be? Then he said that among many of the games and awards that would be presented throughout the evening they wanted to do a "Best Excuse for Not Being Able to Attend the Reunion" contest.

You see, at Friday night's cocktail party the rumor going around was that G. (one of my best buds, who I mentioned in an earlier post, wouldn't be able to make it) had undergone an orthopedic surgery from a hip injury caused by.... a midget toss (their un-p.c. words, not mine!).

Apparently, in Venice Beach, California where he lives, such things can happen and did. So, anyway, R., the reunion organizer, had a guy to represent G, but he needed me to play the role of J.M., a classmate who was traveling in Europe with her large (she has eight kids) family on a semi-music tour and would supposedly be visiting the Pope.

So, basically, I was going to have get up in front of about 100 people and perform and impromptu skit impersonating a simple visit with the Pope versus a midget-tossing festival injury. How could I possibly make something boring (sorry Pope!) remotely interesting. I told R. I'd do it, but he was going to owe me a couple of beers for the effort. And, I also said, the guy playing G.'s role would have to do his shtick first.

So, as I enjoyed the pre--dinner cocktail hour chatting with classmates (some of whom I hadn't seen since high school) and sat down for the dinner portion of the evening, running through the back of my mind was how (the hell!) was I going to win what should be a certain loss.

After a lot of really fun high school trivia games, slide-shows and videos from years gone by, my time was at hand. The MC explained to the audience that my classmate, A. and myself were coming up before them to present our case as to why we should get the award for "Best Excuse for Not Being Able to Attend the Reunion." I took a last swig of of my beer and followed A. who was walking with crutches (WTF - he had props?!).

So, A. begins by saying, "It all started in a bar..." He goes on to explain how the midget was tossed and somehow in error went sailing right into his hip. He then relays that although he'd love to be with us all at the reunion his beautiful and buxom nurses are taking good care of him. Okay, I think, good job, as the audience laughs and claps.

The MC thanked A. for his performance and introduced me as playing the role of J.M. "Ugh, I don't wanna be doing this," was the last thing I thought before I stepped up and said, "It all started in a bar... and nineteen kids and counting (most everyone knew of J.M.'s very large family) later, I continue saying, we're like the Von Trapp family singers from the movie, The Sound of Music. We were having a great time visiting with the Pope until my oldest son somehow threw my youngest son into the Pope's hip, that's when the Swiss Guard stepped in and detained us, otherwise, I said, we'd love to be there with all of you.

For some reason, and maybe I embellished it here and there more than I remember (may have said something about beautiful, buxom nurses ministering to the Pope), it turned out sounding like a really funny story. When the MC asked for our classmates to clap for A. representing G.'s midget-tossing injury if they thought he should be the winner there was a round of polite applause. When the MC told them if they thought my representation of J.M. should win, the place erupted with cheering like our team had just scored the winning touchdown! Their clapping was so resoundingly loud for me to be the winner I actually kinda felt bad for A. (ah, who am I kidding, not really, A. was going into it cocky that he couldn't lose). It was a sweet victory : )

When our time at the dinner event finished up around 11:30 p.m. most of us went to this bar/restaurant/entertainment complex just a few blocks away that one of our classmates owns. Time definitely flies when you're having fun and our revelry continued until close to 3:00 am at which time I left some of the guys still hanging out at the bar.

In the final analysis: I'm actually always amazed that my high school reunions are as fun as they actually are. I mean you move on with your life, you have new friends, freshly-built long-term relationships, but there's something about coming together with the people who shared those formative years of your life. It's kinda crazy, in a strangely special way.

Primping and Prepping

"Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference."
Winston Churchill

Well, I am now just days away from my 30th high school reunion. I've been up and down on how I've been physically feeling with no (seemingly) rhyme or reason to good days versus bad. I did talk to my doctor on Monday and I've added a med so I'm crossing my fingers that the "cocktail" of meds I'm now on will get me through the parties both Friday and Saturday night. I really want to be feeling good so I can have fun. I have had so little of a social life due to this illness over the past year that I'm desperate for it.

I've gained enough weight where I'm actually feeling like I look really good. Believe it or not, my outfits - both Friday and Saturday nights - are from 1999! My shoes are even older! 1999 was the last time I weighed what I do now. Fortunately, it was a time when I had a little addiction to Nordstrom's upscale clothing and even as I outgrew the clothes, there were a few pieces that I couldn't part with. I never, ever, thought I'd fit in them again, but alas, I do, and I think they'll be as trendy as if I had spent the money and gotten them now.

I'm getting a manicure/pedicure tomorrow evening. I've had probably two manicure/pedicures in my life so I am making a big deal out of this. Friday afternoon I'm getting my hair trimmed and foiled.

One of the girls that I played sports with (whom I haven't seen, or spoken to, in thirty years as she didn't come to our ten or twenty year reunions) flew into town today and messaged me on Facebook to make plans to go for a drink tomorrow night. She's bringing her yearbook so we can have a little prep session.

I don't think this reunion could possibly be as fun and wild as the last one mostly because two of my best guy buds (both single but not interested romantically in), the infamous G. and my friend P. won't be able to make it. Those two could get me into some serious trouble (and by trouble, I mean fun!)

A lot of classmates will be missing but I guess it'll be what it will be and I'll try to make the most of it. Hopefully, I'll have something fun or interesting to share with you about it when it wraps up on Sunday.

Of course I feel some angst about being single, childless, and living with my mom, but hey what are ya gonna do? I'll just have to take my grandmother's advice: act as if...

I've got it all go'n on.

I'm excited : )

Dilemma

"I would rather regret the things that I have done
than the things that I have not."
Lucille Ball

Oh my gosh, I feel such a dilemma about what to do regarding my frozen eggs. Presently I am not any closer to finding a husband and yet I am closing in on 48 years of age (five months).

My ideal has always been to find the right guy, fall in love, get married and try for a family naturally (and now) with the eggs I have frozen.

But I also feel very strongly that if I haven’t found a husband I will not let those eggs' journey into this world be for naught. They were brought into the world from a creative intention and my desire is for them to fulfill whatever their full potential may be.

As soon as I finished writing that last sentence the next thought that just popped in my mind was the following passage from the Bible; John 1:1-5 which says, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.” And further John 1:14, saying, “And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth.”

I just think I was reminded of that verse (and I had to look it up, I’m not well-read when it comes to the Bible) because I believe “the Word” was God’s creative intention. There was no separation between God and the Word. The Word was always of God and was only in the “darkness” until God shined the light on it; until God determined to make manifest His creative intention. Then, “the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us...”

I guess I am creatively interpreting the passage but I've been known to do that.

The second entry I posted on my blog dealt with me believing I was created in the image of God and thus am also a creator. So, I guess it shouldn’t surprise me (although it may surprise you) that I would relate my frozen eggs on the same plane as, “And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us...”

What I mean to convey, (in a non-blasphemous way!) is that my eggs have been a part of me from the beginning; they’ve always dwelt within “the darkness” of my being. Just because I wasn’t always conscious of them didn’t take away from the fact that they were present. When I decided to freeze my eggs my “light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.” In other words, my frozen eggs may not know my plan: to make “the word” - the intention of my desire - “made flesh, and dwelt among us...” but ultimately that is where my heart is leading them.

The questions that I have are what to do and when to do it?

I’m thrown into a moral dilemma and the answers are not easy.

Night and Day and Night

"Having a positive mental attitude is asking how something can be done rather than saying it can't be done."
Bo Bennett

Well, since my last post regarding my illness I had an amazing turn around in how I was feeling.

I had continued to do some research on what might be causing my nausea and how to heal myself. As I mentioned in a previous post I was seriously feeling depressed about my life. My physical struggles had taken a toll and I felt like I was struggling mentally as well. I ended up googling "depression and gastroparesis" and came across a single case study from 2006 which showed that a young woman was markedly relieved of her severe nausea and vomiting after she was given the anti-depressant Remeron.

Since I told my doctor that I was depressed and wanted to be put on an anti-depressant I suggested she prescribe the Remeron. I took the drug on a Sunday night and when I woke up the next morning I was amazed at how much better I felt. My nausea had dissipated almost completely until late in the evening. The next day the effect lasted even longer. And each progressive day I was feeling better and better. It wasn't until nearly two weeks after starting the drug that I had one of my "bad" days, where I was once again too sick to eat. I had a couple of days not feeling great and then another ten or so days of feeling good. But I felt like I was definitely on the right track and over the next seven weeks I gained twelve pounds.

It seemed pretty miraculous (especially considering if I had listened to that one doctor I would have undergone an extreme surgical procedure!) to have, after a year of feeling so sick, such a simple solution. But, as most things do, in hindsight it made sense.

It seems that the real culprit is serotonin, or, rather, a lack thereof, and my condition may actually be abdominal migraines. My doctor thinks that I am probably genetically pre-disposed to having low serotonin levels. She also thinks that my low levels got further depleted when I went through the year struggle I had with my mother's mental illness. I am also surmising that when I had the egg retrieval procedure done my hormones got out of whack and further caused my serotonin depletion.

The reason why I say in hindsight it makes sense is because I can see a correlation with the onset and the relief of the migraine headaches I previously experienced. The onset of the migraines occurred when I was given the generic form of the anti-depressant Paxil. The relief of the headaches only occurred when I was taken off the generic and given the brand-name Paxil. I had always been told that generic meds were the same as the "brand" name, but as I found out, after much pain and mental anguish, they're not - they can have as much as a ten percent difference in structure and that ten percent can be the difference in a positive outcome and a negative one.

Unfortunately after feeling so much better and thinking that I was cured I had a relapse in the past two weeks. I've felt bad again. It's as if the medicine's benefits have worn off. I feel like I'm back to square one. But my doctor feels that we are on the right track and it is just a matter of getting the right "cocktail" of medicine that will keep my serotonin levels elevated. I've tried a few different ones and so far I haven't been helped, but I think I'll get there. It's the first hopeful feelings I've had in a long time and that in itself is a blessing.