The Evolutionary Process...

Dating tends to have a process.. the meeting, followed by the greeting and the first real date, when everyone is on their best behavior, feeling out the thought processes of one another. Then we begin to settle in a bit, get comfortable. We dig a little deeper, attempting to find out what makes the other person tick. We might even probe for sore spots - it does, IMHO, pay to know where those are and whether or not one wants to deal with them. Personally, I am a fan of doing this fairly early on.. after all, why waste time? Now and again, though, I date a man whom I know will be a short term affair, so I avoid the sore spots and simply enjoy the ride, much like one would enjoy a day at the amusement park. One can deal with a lot of things if one knows it is for a limited time.

Enter The Professor.. new to dating, he doesn't really know the rules. Oh hell, maybe he never knew the rules. After all, the last time he dated was 30 years ago. Did we have dating rules when we were fresh out of school or were we simply looking for mates?? And, truthfully, the rules are a bit hidden. It's not like you can read the book, although tons of books have been written on this topic. At any rate, I digress... in a very short time, The Professor will find his way back home to the mile high city, and I knew this from beginning. This bit of knowledge has made it easy for me to hold my tongue when he broaches a subject that might otherwise raise the hairs on my neck... (and various other parts of my still nimble body).. and not in a good way.

Last night's topic was politics, followed closely by 'how smoking cigars is good for my breathing and my heart'... On the first subject he asked how I was voting and what I thought of the candidate he was fiercely supporting. Although we both agree that we are stuck with choosing the least harmful as opposed to the best guy for the job, our choices are diametrically opposed. As a result, he tells me, I am ignorant - not stupid, mind you - just ignorant. After all, if I truly understood what was at stake, I would have to agree with him... uh huh (have we met??). Let me remind you that I am in this for the short term, but I am also aware that this is a man that wants an argument.. maybe for the sake of arguing... and I am not playing. I smile. I nod. I suggest perhaps we will have to agree to disagree and suggest a less lively topic. And, I would like to think that I have narrowly escaped losing my temper (my tongue is not quite bleeding yet- and no, I did not say that out loud..). We move on to another venue and a less volatile topic... although he does make some comments indicating he is not quite ready to let it all go.

Now, there are times, and I readily admit this, when I should leave well enough alone, but as we enter the casbah (not the real one, but a club none-the-less), he informs me that he really likes me - which makes me wonder how and why, since I have already been informed (in the nicest possible way) that I am ignorant (not stupid). I ask why... and he, of course, doesn't know. I do, however, know.. it's the sex. And when he asks me why I like him, this is my answer.. can you just see the shit hitting the fan here?? I don't care what they say, a man does not like thinking of himself as a sex toy! All kidding aside, he is taken aback and simmering- despite the smile. And I would like to say 'score one for my side' - ignoramus that I am - but I resist. He continues to smile and we enter the club and listen to some really good home-grown music. This band, Hard Swimmin Fish, is a favorite of mine.

Home again - mine, of course, since his in Colorado - and he opens the topic (previously ignored by me in the interest of good manners) of his snoring, sleep apnea, and a sometime irregular heartbeat. Personally, I think we all have periods when our heart skips a beat and not knowing when it happens is healthy. I also think that failure to take a breath on a regular beat is not cause for hysteria unless you truly find yourself gasping for air - but hey, there is a wonderful market out there for sleep masks - respirators (enter Darth Vader!). And here I am.. it's late, I've had a couple glasses of Glenlivet, and out of my mouth comes the fact (and yes, I say fact) that perhaps , smoking has led to this problem and quitting might help... 

cigar? Cigarette? Tiparillo?

Can you see the volcano eruption here?? Mr Statistician knows that smoking jump starts his heart and makes breathing easier! After all, when this happens in the deep of the night, he gets up and smokes and immediately feels better. He tells me there are studies to prove this...  

Now, to set the scene here, we are on the back deck - he with a glass of wine, me with my thoughts.. and I have closed my eyes and am trying valiantly to think pleasing thoughts, but finally,I open my eyes, look over, and calmly ask if he would like to know what I think.. after all, for most of the evening my thoughts have been cut off (why would anyone let someone they deem ignorant speak at all?).. he nods and asks what might that be? 

 I smile, and sweetly say, "I think your spending the night at your place might be a great idea" (insert stage directions here - kiss and exit). 

Truly, despite words to the contrary from the man who knows it all, I believe he is not going gently into his divorce, the one he depicts as very civilized. I also believe the time, as for all good things, has come to an end here. He has tarried longer in MD than he needed to, for the affections of a fine woman, and now needs to head back home. I think, perhaps, the anger, the arguments, the name calling might be his coping method to make the goodbye less painful. I also believe that he is misdirecting his frustrations about the demise of a 30 year marriage .. one his wife has asked for. 

As for me, I have been here, done this.. and know a good exit when I see one.. 
 Truly though.. it was fun while it lasted...

As always,

A. Tan Gledmess 
ps: for the record, I slept quite well.. 

Ramblings..

Time marches on, doesn't it? One day bleeds into the next and if we're not careful we forget to pay attention to all those little things that make us who we are. It's been a month since my last post, and it's not that I have been lax inasmuch as I have been busy paying attention to the minutia of my days. 

What have I done, and where have I been? Well, there was the young guy - 10 years my junior and I have to say he was fun.. for a bit. One more of the walking wounded and as it turned out, he was in need of a caretaker. I'm pretty sure I'm not it. When asked by his other friends to make sure he made it home safe, I knew time was running out. My nurturing gene is sadly lacking. I can rustle it out of retirement for young children and old folks, but not middle aged men. Driving drunks home and tucking them into bed (and out of my capris) is not my idea of a good time. Yep - you read that right. One night he got up after we were in bed and put on my pants.. not long after, I decided to go home to my own bed and couldn't find them. Prying them off his passed-out body is never going to be my idea of a good time. I suppose I should take solace in the fact that he was not in my underwear!! And no, I have not seen him since then. Some things are just too telling.

Another thing I have done is dropped off the online dating sites. When the same men are still there for years and years and the lines are all the same, it is time for a break. The faces change, the needs don't. I swear, a lot of men see online dating as a call-girl service for the price of dinner. And when did phone sex get so popular?? Has it always been? Cell phones are a wonderful thing - you can make long distance calls that are not 900 numbers and call it a 'get to know you' call while getting off... of course this can work both ways and I am not adverse to such carrying-ons now and again.. but really? How long can one do this without feeling empty? There is something to be said about a shared wet spot. Really.

Giving up all hope for sanity, I agreed to a set-up by a friend. Now, I have to say I have lost some faith in friends for this in the past.. after all, if you really know me, you have to know there are some men that will always get a FAIL when set up with me.. I am who I am and the right man is not going to change that---ever. At any rate, The Analyst is from Colorado and has a mad-professor sort of look to him, and no - not the Gilligan's island guy. More like Robyn Williams with white hair in disarray and a beard. Looking at him from afar, I am amused and curious.. but would I have picked him out of a room and said "That's the one!"? Probably not. That said, he is interesting.. very interesting and not at all what his cover suggests. I do like a man who is a bit of an enigma, so this is working out quite well for now. We have dinner, conversations, see bad movies together, and somehow keep our sense of humor and fun intact. Maybe I am just better with men from out of state...

I have come to the conclusion that I am not and have never been a good wife. I am a good mother, and excellent lover (if I do say so myself - and I just did!), but a wife? Not so much. And, you know, that seems to be ok for everyone except for the men who want to make me into one - a woman acting in a specified capacity. I have never really defined myself in any specific terms and have always defied anyone else that attempts to do so; it is no wonder I fail at that. I am not a role player except in the bedroom (ok, maybe the kitchen and living room - but only when sex is on the table) and then only when we both agree to such fun. And you know, I'm ok with all that too.

Until next time, and as always...

A. Tan Gledmess...