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..

Make up Sex..

Well now, this is a first.. make up sex. Who knew?! Truthfully, a lot of you probably did, but I didn't.

You may recall I kept the shoes. And after twenty days (he was counting - not me), he called and suggested we meet. Twenty days. I had given it up for over, and had come up with all kinds of reasons to count my blessings.. after all, the man is crazy. And no one chases me or makes up after a break up - not in my world.

The shoes had taken up residence in the backseat of my car. They were comfortable there. I was getting used to them hanging out, and all was right in my world. Then, the phone rang. I was invited to lunch.. and an exchange.. my few toiletries for his shoes. Shallow Bi-otch that I am, I agreed. A free meal is still a free meal. Besides, I was already back on the dating scene. There was no remorse. No regrets. I had instigated the grand reunion in November and it was over. Fini. Done. Life always goes on.

Two hours at the restaurant, followed by an hour of standing and talking in the parking lot, we were back.. to my house, to dinner, to bed. Oooh-la-la. You know this would be so much easier if the sex was not so good. The man is a god in the bedroom. My body sings, whistles, and hums.. I become a virtual kazoo in his hands. Putty to his touch. Mold me, shape me, take me! It's sad really, and if I were a more mature, complete person I would say "no, please no.. don't... " But, alas I am not. I am a middle aged, sex starved woman. I have been to so many funerals over the past few years, that all I can think about is that if I were to die tomorrow, would I want my epitaph to say "She only wanted to do it once more" or "She went out with a smile"? 

 I'll let you mull that one over while I go back to my mulled wine.. and yes, for the record, we are seeing one another this weekend and he is making plans for us on Valentine's Day. We shall see where it all leads. 

Someone just needs to remind me that all this is one day at a time.

As Always,
 A. Tan Gledmess... 

   

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.. 

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...

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