Lonely Days and Lonely NIghts

I've lost track of time, but time has definitely passed.. days, weeks, months. Eight months in, and one dinner date weeks and weeks ago. I am definitively single. Again.

The question is whether to get back on a saddle again or not. So far, I've been leaning toward not. Pickings are slim, to be sure. Retirement is on a horizon (4 years out) and I certainly don't want to be tied to a place. Still, a lover would be nice.

So.. how does one go about finding  a lover? It's not exactly a question you can ask on a bar stool.. or maybe that's exactly what it is. Still, I'm a tad uncomfortable sliding up next to some good looking dude and saying "hey there. Want a lover for a few years?". It seems gauche to say the least. And I am certainly past my own prime, so what does that leave me? Old farts, drunks, and desperadoes. 

I could go online ... again..... sigh. But no. I'm tired of introducing myself, and the grand adventure a few years ago certainly did not result in any great discoveries. That's out to be sure. Not only would it be painful, I have a feeling the same guys that were there before are there still.. and truthfully, a fair number of them were married. Second Chair is not my place.

I suppose I am left to my own devices.

In an attempt..

...to maintain perspective, I have continued my membership on the dating site. It's an effort to keep some eggs out of the proverbial basket. And it is interesting. Now that I don't care, other men seem to care. An old flame has been in touch.. and back out. Two more have thrown in lines to see if I bite, or will bite.

Inyourarms2nite wanted to know what I have been up to lately and if I would be interested in going out again. Seems to me we had one date, went back to his place, and I never heard from him again.. until now. My response to this was sure.. but we are not sleeping together. And then he cancelled out two weeks in a row. So much for  inMYarms2nite! The last cancellation was because he cut himself shaving. I'm thinking it must have been a cut to the carotid artery. It's a wonder he was able to communicate at all. 

Next in line was am_just_terrific, from Jersey Shore, PA.. not "THE Jersey Shore" he tells me. I swear most folks just think we girls are dumb. He also wonders if I want to know how he ended up living there... duh.. born there? yes! within 10 miles. Toughest quiz I ever passed.. lord save me from the comics. I also learned how the town came to be named.. all this, without really asking. If this is ever a trivia question in a game I am playing, my friends will be amazed and impressed by my useless knowledge.

Finally, this very morning, I heard from hersheydoc58 who says he has a post-doctoral degree yet he cannot figure out how to hide his pictures from the general public on the dating site. He says he has not posted a picture because his account was hacked and he cannot take the risk professionally.. you know, having his photos appear at work. Makes me wonder what kind of work he does and why someone so smart can't come up with better passwords. Hersheydoc is also named Naz, and although he asked for my name, he called me by a nickname. What is that all about? He wants my email or phone number so that he can either mail or text me a photo. Now, if protecting oneself professionally is a concern and should be a concern of mine as well, why does he only communicate with gals who have pictures and why would he want to share personal information - after all, an email has a return address and a text has a return phone number. Are all men this stupid?? Post-doctoral? Really? Being smarter than the average joe - post-doctoral or otherwise - is both a blessing and a curse. Needless to say, he dropped me like a rock when I pointed this out.

But, as we all know, life goes on and the old flame is back in the picture. So what am I doing? I am trying to not leap in with both feet this time, at least not yet. I am trying to distract myself.. trying on clothes that I know won't fit so I can feel better about purchasing the great looking, expensive outfit. I am amusing myself with misfits, thinking it will keep me from diving in headfirst.. but really.. 


As always,
A. tan Gledmess..

Fanning the Flames...

The definition of insanity that I like best includes doing things the same old way and expecting new results. I can certainly attest to the fact that, in my life, doing things the same way has mostly resulted in the same endings.. though,the details in between beginnings and endings have been interesting and varied, the end result was me. Alone. Unsatisfied. Incomplete. 

I am trying something new. I made the call. I stuck my neck out. I am taking a chance and putting myself out there. He could have ignored me. He could have let it all go... but...

he called me back and, after the call, found me on Facebook. I gave him carte blanch to my Facebook wall.. and there he has access to this blog as well as another one I have been writing, Beginning at the End. This is certainly new territory for me. And, I have an idea as to how he may react to it all... It could be I am completely blowing a great possibility by revealing too much about me. But, you know, secrets are hard to keep and usually get found out. Perhaps it is better to put it all out there, up front. Take the plunge.. and give him the chance to take it too, if he likes. Dive once more into that deep end of the very warm pool..

The flame.. never quite went out. It was put on hold. For a lot of years. By me.  At the time, I wanted

 an opportunity to meet someone who would love me so much they would put everything on the line. I wanted to see if there was, by chance, someone out there who would want to marry me. 

Six years later, I haven't met that guy - or, to rephrase that - I haven't found a guy I want to marry. I already had what I wanted, I just didn't know it at the time. You never know what you've lost until it's gone? Maybe.

Today, I am happy to end the grand 50 First Dates experiment. I want to do 50 gasps, as he touches my skin, holds my hand in his. I want the 50 Oh. My. God.s as he takes me to those places that only he has been able to take me. I want 50 of those kisses.. all over. I want 50 whispered conversations deep in the night. I want 50 times that 50 and more. I want to be held, I want to hold. I want to trust. I want to take a chance again - with my heart and soul, and trust his heart, his soul, and
                                                      other delicious parts of his delightful body... 

And, do you know what is really awesome? He wants it too ...

Sincerely, and gratefully yours,

A. Tan Gledmess....  

 ~every reader, every supporter has been a very important part of this experiment. I thank you for your commentsm and participation, your eyes and minds. I may be insane, but I am not there alone  :)

Three Men and a Garage, Plus One

What a week it has been! I am officially off the dating sites, but apparently that makes no difference. And I am calling that a good thing. My mom passed away a bit more than a week ago, so date time has been on hold. Having been sick for some time now, it was evident a month ago that things were not going to get better. And it is sad. My mother has been my best friend, my cheerleader, and my supporter for my entire life. I am certainly missing her already and will continue to miss her as my life continues. In the midst of all this, however, some interesting things have transpired. I have heard from an old (hot) flame, been invited to dinner by the Get-Away Man, and  met 3 men in a garage.. and invited in to have a beer or two as well. This is what happens when you decide to do a favor for your kids!


My son and his girlfriend have lived in a rather nice apartment complex for the past year. I've been there for dinner, and this week I agreed to visit the cat and feed the turtle while they are out of town. I also agreed to get the mail...which is how this adventure began. I couldn't find the mailbox! 

I entered the building from the back, up the stairs. Let myself in, looked for the cat and couldn't find her. This is not unusual. Once Gracie stayed with me for a week. I didn't see her until the day before the kids came home. Gracie is either shy or has figured out that I am not a cat person. I figured she was in there somewhere.. after all, the litter box needed cleaning. I didn't think about the turtle.. but decided I would venture back outside to get the mail and check on the animals again when I returned. 

Now, one would think - at least I was thinking - that mailboxes for apartments would be along the street.. after all, my mailbox is on the street. The mail person drives by, loads it up, and moves on. I walk around the building, but I am certainly not seeing a mailbox. What I did see, though, was an open garage door and man walking into it. So, like any normal person would do - and yes, for the moment we are going to consider me a normal person, I ventured over and asked him if he could give me a clue as to where I might find the boxes. Turns out he lives in the same building as my son and his girlfriend. And, he knew where the mailboxes were. He also asked me if I would like join him and his friend for a drink - bottled water, peanuts, a beer? I took the beer. It's been a rough week. I deserved it, and the door was open. I felt a bit adventurous but also safe. 

I said, sure, why not?

Mr. C opened the frig to reveal a wide array of alcoholic beverages. I chose a Stella, and we sat down at this high top table, tv running in the background, and beautiful view out the door. We shared a couple of beers, some lies, and some laughs. Life is amazing if you just let yourself open up to it.

Mr C and his buddy H were new to town,military transfers - and having been here only a year, they were interested in the area. I became the expert - me.. the directionally dysfunctional one.. an expert - try to imagine that! Before long, Mr Long, Tall, and Beautiful-in-Chaps stopped in as well. Imagine this... me and three men in a garage bar! A man cave. I walked away with a phone number and a promise to be there when they next opened for business. According to Mr. C, his establishment is opened rarely and generally on a Friday. 

I don't know.. serendipity? Luck of the draw? It made my day. It made my week. I may never see those guys again, but I do know where the garage is and I think I just might have to stop in again - for fun.

Until next time....

A. Tan Glendmess

ps: the old flame? we're talking .. and texting... with a T... and yes.. I am going to dinner with the Get-Away Man. Why not?

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.. 

Livid...

..As livid as the mark on my neck and the one on my breast! OMG, how old are we!?!? I had a feeling it was happening but didn't stop him - guess I am culpable too, but Jeeze! This body is a temple, we don't hurt it! 

So, date with TNG last night.. who shall forever more be named the In and Out Guy, because that is about all he does (can do?). You know, you like to give a guy some time, let him relax a little and see what he's worth. First night sex is not always so great - booze is generally involved, nerves are taut, everyone is self conscious. Well, maybe not me so much... what would be the point after all these years? There is truly something to be said for getting older.. what used to offend only amuses these days. Go figure. Anyway.. back to the story....

I headed over to his place. It is always good to see how the other half lives; and this guy - like the last one- lives in model home style - in suburbia. What is that all about anyway? To top it off, there is a lock box (the kind they place on homes that are for sale) on the back door. This certainly gives me pause as he has told me he has lived there for 2.5 years. Who leaves that stuff on a door?? Makes me wonder if he is simply occupying the place while the real owner has it up for sale (with no sign). He does have boxes of stuff in the basement though - unopened still.. guess we are not really moving in - at least that is the message I get. 

Do men think that living in a sterile environment makes them look good? Is it a sign of low intelligence? Is it a sign of control? Are they housebroken??Is that it? I don't know anymore, but this is 2 for 2 on the weird stuff scale. I need someone who lives in their house - and is surrounded by things that are meaningful. I don't know, it just makes them seem more human. On the other hand, they also look entrenched so maybe his game is to appear to be moveable.

Ok, back to the main story on Mr In And Out... and this is for that reader who wanted more details (LOL)... there is no romance here, he tells me. This is about lust  - his I am thinking - and once we are naked, he rolls on top of me, smashes my face in what is supposed to be a kiss, and shoves it in.. ok, truth is, I do like it in me, so I go with that for the moment. Some grunting and shoving later - along with his mouth on my neck, I realize that this is not going to end well. He flips me over - more shoving and grunting - and I am thinking  'ok, this is not exactly doing much for me', but hey - last time was good and I can be fair - maybe this is about him tonight. We flip again and now I am getting somewhere and no longer concerned about him .. except he is back to the neck and pinching a tit... a bit later, I am on top - getting what I am here for, and he is playing boy toy - use me baby, use me! Done - at least I am, and I am sorry (maybe?) that he did not get what he wanted...  but

Is this my job? am I responsible for that? Seems to me that a man who makes me responsible for my own orgasm cannot possibly expect me to be concerned about his!

  I fall asleep, he does some twitching (restless leg syndrome?), and I wake in the morning to find I am alone in the bed. To the bathroom and WHOA! A hickey on my neck???!! W?RUFK!? How old are we!? Livid is what I am. Livid. Are manners no longer important and have we learned nothing in 62 years of life?? You do not give women hickeys. Ever. This body is a temple - we do not cause it harm... We do not mark it up! I am not a territory!

Do I tell him? yes. His reaction? sadness - he's sorry. My response? this is not about sorry - this is about it never ever happening again, which of course, it won't.. because I'm done... Done! I say - although this was only in my head.. I do know that a certain amount of caffiene is necessary before I say too much out loud. Speaking of which, I have to make the coffee because, although he drinks it, he has not bothered to figure out how the coffee pot works; and then he complains about an after taste.. and did (I) make it right? Did I say DONE? Let me say it again.. D.O.N.E. done!

The question now is do I continue with this dating thing? we all know he is done, fini, over...  but I am pretty close (if not in excess of 50) and the numbers game is not working. There have been a few men I could have (did?) fallen for, but they seem to be among the walking wounded and I am not a very good nurse.

Decisions, decisions...

As always,

A. Tan Gledmess

And the Beat Goes On..

So, one day dumped, the next week I get calls and instant messages from men I used to date... What's up with that!? I have to admit there is a certain amount of redemption there. It means that they all come back and the most recent head case will be back one day too. I can honestly say that in the midst of all this, I played fair and honestly. A small part of me hopes to say sorry for your luck while the bigger part wants to say I understand.

One man who showed up again, the Get-Away Man, told me he felt he had "blown it".. and indeed he had, but we are still on good terms and enjoy each other's company here and there along the way. Then there was the Man on the Lake.. he was the IT guy in an earlier post. And, though he has had a GF for the past year (which means they met about the same time we did), he still sends me an instant message, telling me how wonderful our time was together, and that, although he is currently still involved with that other woman, he "thinks of (me) fondly". yay.. what does one say to that!? And we all remember the fiance' and although he has not reared his disgraceful head, another one has stepped up to the plate.

Awakening earlier on a Sunday than any sane person should do on a weekend, I had time on my hands and decided to do a little research on that Great Date .. the man in the last post. Low and behold, he is NOT 59, he is 76. How do I not notice that?? All I can say is that age, with men, is trickier to discern than it is with women. And, separated means 20 miles - the distance from his house to the restaurant. Now, I get that his wife has not turned out the way he hoped. I wonder if he knows his wife probably thinks the same about him.. hmmm.. but, if you are going to step out on her, at least don't fake out the honest women. I'm pretty certain there are women out there who only want you for your money or the dinners out and have no intention of forming any kind of bond with you. GO. FIND. THEM. Leave me alone. Despite the fact that I did not point out to him what I had learned, he obviously had a change of heart anyway. I have not heard from him since. Yippee.

All is not lost, though. I have a rendezvous with the Philanthropist this weekend, and next weekend another beau is coming to call and we may well spend the day in DC, a place he has never been and a place I am getting to know better. A band member at a local establishment flirted with me this evening - and the thought of going back to hear him play has crossed my mind!

I am alive. I am memorable - and in a good way - even if I am not seen as permanent relationship material. The only conclusions I can draw is that A) men need bigger balls, and B) I am worth the time.. so step it up. Life is too short to waste it on those who have no trust in them selves. I am worth it.

As always,

~A. Tan Gledmess

Banned In Michigan..

 W? RUFK!?

Raging Bitch is banned in Michigan.. what will I do now? Where will I go? And I doomed to stay here in Maryland? And, I soooo love the cold (not!).. but wait.. Hell is in Michigan? How is it that I can go to Hell but not have a raging bitch? or be one? Are there men there? Men I want to date? Men who will want to date me? Ah, the adventures of the middle age vixen... so many men, so little time.

My initial thought was to title this 50 first dates, but that was already taken.. not a bad movie either.. so I settled in for Banned in Michigan... because after a number of bad dates, I could be a raging bitch. I am middle aged and back in the dating pool. I no longer know if suits are optional, required or requested and am not sure I care. Do I need a cover up? And what is my sign? 

Follow me for the dating adventures of a lifetime. Live vicariously and dangerously as I date and dodge the men in the pool. In some ways, I miss the bliss of the 70's and early 80's when diseases were all curable with penicillin. Ignorance was bliss and still is, despite the fact that ignoramuses are still alive and flourishing. Damn technology.. Darwin's theory has been overcome by machines and madmen!

Let the Adventures in Dating begin.. I promise to keep you informed and entertained.. beginning with date 1... which happened last Tuesday.


A Tan Gledmess