My own lessons in Eat, Pray, Love...

I've been mulling around a blog idea since I've had so much on my mind, but haven't been able to put anything into concrete thoughts or sentences. One major theme from all these musings that continues to pop up is I'm Growing Up.

I have been through teenagerhood, when I thought I knew everything. I went through my twenties, when I didn't know a whole lot of anything. I made it through my thirties, when I began to question everything.

Now I'm just barely into my 40's and I recognize the fact that I have learned from all those other eras, and that I could possibly be in the actual prime of my life.



I'm smarter now for my kids. I stay on top of their well-being and safety and mental roundness and general childhood experiences. I want them to remember these years as ones full of playing "school" or "store" with their friends and cousins, riding bikes with friends up and down our street, and challenging the neighborhood kids in a footrace. I think they will remember experiencing new things like snowskiing, Broadway shows, UT football games, and waterslide parks. They will look back and be happy and grateful I let them try to find where their talents lay, in dance, gymnastics, volleyball, music, acting or art. They have come through a divorce with bumps in the road, but an overall sense of peace knowing their parents each love them and we still are able to be friendly when they see us together. They can take pieces of each of these memories into their adult lives and tell people, "I had a good childhood".



I have learned in my career that I do not want to own a business but I want to be respected and asked for my opinions when a topic comes up on which I have years of experience to contribute. I would like to work for someone strong enough to make smart business decisions but not pompous enough that he or she cannot ask the trusted employees for help. I have learned I don't like to gush my appreciation for a good work environment or advancement in the company's ranks, but I will work hard to show my employer I am thankful for the fact that I don't hate to come into my job every day. I learned that I LOVE to travel on the company's dime. :)

Speaking of travel...I learned that I will continue to accept invitations to or plan excursions to any place in the country or world where I can see something I've never seen before. I don't even have to know much about where I'm going because by the time I leave I will know more. I want to see mountain ranges, and beaches, and ancient ruins, and beautiful stained-glass-filled churches-- any of the wonders of the world. On a smaller scale, I will plan to visit more sleepy towns I can walk around instead of drive, more islands with gorgeous sunsets and hard-working townspeople, and countrysides or farmlands with seasonal colors bursting from crops or trees I don't get to witness at home. And while I travel, I will eat...just about anything and everything.



I have learned I can be alone sometimes and I now appreciate these times. I have settled into ignoring the pull to jump on the phone or make plans to visit someone for every free moment. I can enjoy a solitary bikeride and gazing at the quiet scenery, or a long ride in the car with my favorite music blaring and the windows down, or the prayerful moments at church where I thank God for all His wisdom in bringing me so far to this place in my life. I can be at home straightening up or doing laundry and not even have the TV on, and listen to the silence, or I can take the dogs out with my headphones on, lost in thought, for a long walk. I actually take note of these instances because they were so rare in years before now, and I snuggle into them and feel at home.

And I have learned a few things about men. And a few things about my needs with men. I know all the "types" now and which are good for me and which are probably trouble. I don't feel comfortable with the overly-manicured metrosexual guy, but would like my man to own a suit and dress shoes. I need him to have an education and know something about the world or have an interesting take on it. I like a man who can talk to me, and not only by texting or email or Facebook. It seems to be rare to get a man to open his mouth and speak his mind. All the electronics today are giving men permission to turn more inward and not have much to say. I need a man to rebel against this urge.

I demand that a man at least attempt to open the door for me, even if I beat him to it. I don't need him to pay for me all the time, but he can try to reach for his wallet. I would like him to be active, and busy with his own activities but be interested in mine as well.

I have fear of a man who has not committed to a wife or children at our age as of yet. I have reasons for this, which anyone following me can refer back to, but I think I have been through all this damn growth because of my commitments and my failures of those commitments, and because of the love I have for my children. I have talked to men who have not been there yet, and I immediately get the sense that they just don't KNOW...and therefore, cannot know me. It may be shortsighted or prejudicial, but it is my experience, and that is all I have.

I am sure to have another 40 years or more to live. Wow, another lifetime. Just think of it, more decades of knowledge to revisit these current lessons and revise, edit, ignore, or laugh at them. I am happy for now, and I am looking to the future with a soothing serenity.

How TxCris Almost Bought the Farm, Thanks to a Carrot

Yesterday at work a terrifying thing happened. I nearly met my Maker for lunch.

I was in my office kitchen making my salad for lunch as usual, and chomping on a raw carrot while I chopped up my veggies.



As I finished my carrot, the last piece got lodged in my windpipe. It felt like it was in the front of my throat, like I could touch it through the skin at the base of my neck. Faaack...I could breathe but it was uncomfortable...and soon my throat and chest began cramp up, in painful little spasms. I sat there a minute gulping and waiting for it to move. So I'm thinking I should try to drink water to dislodge it. So I take a swig.

The water felt like it did not go down my throat, in fact, it plugged me up, as in like a trapdoor closed on my airway. Literally-- no air. So I got up, coughing, and tried to spit it out in the sink and by now I'm wheezing and gasping for breath. Breathing in was impossible, my eyes teared up. I'm pacing and in panic-mode now.

I went in the bathroom and tried to make myself vomit, but that didn't help, and still I was barely getting air through. I was figuring out that the throwing-up tube and the breathing tube are separate and just because when your stomach is churning and throwing up makes that better, it does nothing for a stuck carrot in the windpipe.

Next I try to bounce my stomach region on a chair in the breakroom, but it was too lightweight and moved without forcing any air. Its amazing how your mind starts groping for Oprah and Today Show episodes for procedures on choking. But then I kept thinking of those 20/20 stories of people who weren't so lucky and didn't make it when help was only a person or a phone call away. So I'm starting to think 911. Would they even make it to me before I blacked out? The nearest fire station is half a block away. Would any of the EMS dudes be hot? (just kidding on that last one, but I did think that later on) This was all going through my brain in nano-seconds.

My co-worker finally heard all the ruckus from the front of our office and called back "Are you ok?" and I managed to croak "No!".

She came walking back toward the breakroom, not sure if I was kidding, and I was pacing around gulping for air, and then I just backed into her and grabbed her arms to wrap around me and she instinctively gave me 3 squeezes. It didn't force the carrot out but the water came out and I spit and could breathe a little better. Thank the Lawd!

I still could feel the carrot and it still hurt and I was walking around forcing myself to cough and leaning over and trying to vomit and nothing was moving that damn thing. I was able to breathe, just not comfortably. My co-worker stood there mesmerized at what the hell was happening, but also amazed that she was able to perform under pressure. "I'm always the panicky one!" she said with a proud smile. Told her thank you, and I do thank God I wasn't alone.

After a minute of us staring at each other and wondering what to do next, I felt the stupid carrot miraculously move down on its own and I could breathe normal again.

Bizaare. I really feel had an inkling what it feels like to drown. It's horrifying.

Here's a description of the Heimlich if anyone's interested in saving a life if they see this happening to a loved one:

If choking is occurring, the Red Cross recommends a "five-and-five" approach to delivering first aid:
■First, deliver five back blows between the person's shoulder blades with the heel of your hand.
■Next, perform five abdominal thrusts (also known as the Heimlich maneuver).
■Alternate between five back blows and five abdominal thrusts until the blockage is dislodged.

To perform abdominal thrusts (Heimlich maneuver) on someone else:
■Stand behind the person. Wrap your arms around the waist. Tip the person forward slightly.
■Make a fist with one hand. Position it slightly above the person's navel.
■Grasp the fist with the other hand. Press hard into the abdomen with a quick, upward thrust — as if trying to lift the person up.
■Perform a total of five abdominal thrusts, if needed. If the blockage still isn't dislodged, repeat the five-and-five cycle.



If you're the only rescuer, perform back blows and abdominal thrusts before calling 911 or your local emergency number for help. If another person is available, have that person call for help while you perform first aid.

If the person becomes unconscious, perform standard CPR with chest compressions.

If you're alone and choking, you'll be unable to effectively deliver back blows to yourself. However, you can still perform abdominal thrusts to dislodge the item.

To perform abdominal thrusts (Heimlich maneuver) on yourself:
■Place a fist slightly above your navel.
■Grasp your fist with the other hand and bend over a hard surface — a countertop or chair will do.
■Shove your fist inward and upward.

Man, I am blessed. I almost died eating something healthy that's supposed to prolong my life. Take-home lesson here, folks-- Chew Your Food.

Cautionary Tips from the Trenches on Online Dating

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What Would Weight Watchers Do?

I weighed in today 1.6 lbs up from last week at my Weight Watchers meeting. I expected this because my class ring on my right hand was not loose. That's how I gauge how puffy I am on any given day. Today, all day, it was tight. Boo. I was down last week 2.8 from the week before. Yay. But I lost some of that ground this week. Boo. Could Weight Watchers help me figure out what went wrong?

What I didn't tell ole' Weight Watchers, especially the little old guy with the white hair who checked me in and was sure to point out my "gain" on my tracking booklet with his pentip, is that I turned 40 last Sunday AND swam/biked/ran a triathlon.


My heartrate monitor watch clocked me at burning over 1600 calories during that one hour and 44 minute race, and so I did not track my food for the day. I figured it being my birthday, and doing that kind of excercise gave me a free pass for the day. I didn't go out to eat after the race, I ate at home, and even smuggled a 94% fat-free popcorn bag into the movies in my daughter's little purse (what?) so I didn't overdo it. And when I say not overdoing it that was only until we had frozen yogurt after the movie and I added taboo chocolate candy mix-ins to my strawberry/banana/cake batter frozen yogurt. Hey, it was lowfat yogurt! And chopped up Snickers. And white chocolate chips. And maybe some almonds. I kinda went crazy, so I kinda forget what all went in there.

Still, it only weighed like 3 ounces on the Yogurt Experience (shameless plug- in Round Rock near the Outlets, you gotta try it) scale, if that. It's not like I won any free yogurt for having the heaviest weight and get my name on the YE whiteboard. My yogurt cup felt a little like I did at the WW meeting last week- happily underweight.

So anyway, I didn't mention all this to little old white-haired dude giving me that "sorry you sucked this week" look at my WW meeting today. Nor did I bring it up when the meeting leader asked if anyone did a 5K in any way this past week, since apparently that was the most recent WW challenge- to WALK a 5K in a week.

What should I have done? Oh hi, ma'am? Yes, I did. Umm yeah, it was a 5K on the end of a triathlon that I kicked-ass on and beat my 2 years ago personal best time on. Um, and I RAN it, yes, even the hills. Yeah, and I trained almost every day before that, with several runs and walks totally well over a 5K.

Oh, and ma'am? Did I mention I GAINED 1.6 lbs this week? What do you make of that? Shrieks and gasps, I'm sure. So, I didn't want to confuse/discourage/annoy the others in the WW meeting, and I kept quiet and sulked instead.

My triathlon friend and I are convinced it's water weight, and we are surely right, based on how much we drink before, during, and after a race like that. Or our marathon bike rides we do on other weekends. We are always puffy as hell after them. It's hot as hades out there and you MUST drink and drink and drink water, or your body will revolt and/or possibly quit. As in die. We both do WW and know we can't eat double just because we get in a good work-out. No reason to sabotage ourselves, so I am perplexed, other than my birthday-frozen-yogurt-fest, as to what my body was trying to say today on that scale.

Again, I did not speak up and spew this paradox onto the room, but I need to figure it out. It's a riddle best worked on by myself, with myself. Me and my Body will have a talk and come to some sort of agreement. I don't need that "you suck" look each week after I've busted your ass, literally, and have you, Body, show up 3 days later looking and weighing all puffy. If you, Body, can figure out how to eliminate faster, let's say in only 24 hours, then I will keep taking your ass, literally, to YE for sweet, happy yogurt treats. Deal?

The big 4-0....and all I've learned so far.

I've learned a ton during my 40 trips around the sun. I don't think the lessons have been anything special in the larger scheme of things, but since I've been happier in the last few years than ever in my life, I am gathering that I actually did LEARN from all my experiences and have steadily made improvements in my choices and the general direction I'm taking in life. I'm hoping that bodes well for my next 40 years.

Ah, but starting at the beginnning, well almost the beginning, at least as early as I can remember....I learned to tie my shoes, color inside the lines, and that boys who chase you on the playground probably like you. I learned I loved gymnastics and running as fast as I could, to try to beat those boys, probably because I liked them. I learned my best girlfriends sometimes got jealous and wouldn't be my best friend for a while. I learned some of my friends got along with each other and some just got along with me. I've been able to keep friends for many, many years because I figured that one out.

I learned I liked boys and liked having a boyfriend, even if it was in name only, and we rarely were in the same space together, but wrote tiny love letters and passed them through our friends.

I learned I would be shorter and smaller than all my friends, and wouldn't need a bra until well into junior high. I learned that wasn't a bad thing because the boys popped girls' bra straps. A lot. I learned to wear shorts under my Catholic school uniform skirt because those same boys would fall down and try to look under our skirts.

I learned that older boys in high school liked the freshman girls but not for long-term. They were bored with their same-ole, same-ole girls and dabbled with the fresh meat. I learned they quickly bored with me and took off back to their junior or senior girls. I learned that the upperclassmen girls disliked me on the spot because of this. I finally learned to stop taking the taunts from those bitchy girls and fight back to save my own sanity. Eventually I learned to not date the older guys because they were not worth all the trouble.

I learned there was a boy who could love me because we were friends first and he respected me because he was brought up right, and was that kind of boy. I learned what it was like to depend on someone, and trust someone, and enjoyed my senior year with him and my other life-long friends.



I learned what I wanted to do as a major/career and which college I would attend to pursue that goal. I learned that I was ready to live on my own as soon as my parents left me and my roommate in our new apartment for the first time. I learned to keep my old friends close, but to make an effort to meet new ones and expand my circle of friends beyond my hometown.



I learned that fraternity parties were dangerous, and mixing alcohol was very, very stupid. I learned that skipping ONE class wasn't the end of the world. I learned not to put metal in the microwave. I learned that turning off your heater when you leave for Christmas break isn't smart when it freezes and the pipes burst, spewing water all down the inside of your closet and flooding your apartment with 4 inches of water. I learned how to pay bills, use a credit card responsibly, and balance a checkbook.

I learned to love another boy, who also was an old friend first, and who became my best friend and boyfriend for those college years, until we both outgrew each other (it happens at age 21) and then I learned heartbreak, and lost myself for a while, not knowing myself and because of that, not knowing what I really wanted in a man.

I learned to trust again from a nice boy who wasn't going the same direction in life that I was, but who listened to me and made me laugh and who didn't ask much of me. I took a job far away from anyone I knew and learned I could live really on my own, although I learned I did not like being truly THAT alone. Evenutally I learned this boy would stand by me and was never jealous or intimidated by my successes, and he came from a good family, and I thought he would a good husband and father. I learned I was finally ready for marriage and to begin my adult life.

I learned what family is. I learned how to build a household and make a home and be part of my own family, our team. I learned what real responsibility is, and became the person to handle the business of our little family.


By this time I was close to 30 years old. And it was then that I learned to fully and completely love someone. My babies. My little girls. They taught me I was able and willing to live my life totally beholden to them, without question. And I learned my goal in life is to be the best possible guide to a good life for each of them.

My 30s began with Motherhood in full swing. There were some rough patches. I learned that I was beginning to find myself and wasn't always happy with the choices I had made. I tried to figure out what to change, and made mistakes, but I learned from them. I learned to take care of me, for once. My babies were growing up and not as needy, so I learned what to do to lose the extra weight I'd carried after having them, and that I loved biking and running. This time with myself allowed me to examine what I was doing, and if I was happy. I learned I was not. I learned that I had a desire to see more of this world and to have friends who shared some of the activities I enjoyed.

I clung to my girls as I knew I couldn't live without them, but I had learned that their dad and my's time was up. I arranged my life so that the girls wouldn't be uprooted or jossled around, and that they knew their parents loved them even though we no longer lived together. I learned a failed marriage and a broken home made me very, very sad.

I learned I could be happy and love again, then with Romeo. I was able to have the travels I wanted, and the friends I wanted, and the confidante and best friend I'd been missing for so long. It also gave me the time to understand so much about my adult self-- the opinions and standards and needs and limitations that have grown within me over all of these 40 years, but I ended it on my terms and for my own peace of mind.

So now I am hitting this new milestone. A half-way point? Possible, but not probable. I am proud to have taken in all these lessons and have come out as a 40 year old with solid convictions, and physical and emotional strengths, and life knowledge. That sounds like a superhero, but I am most definitely not that.

I'm just a girl, who happens to be 40, and has learned to love it.

Alone on an Iceberg, er...blog.

I'm not sure what I thought I'd be doing on this blog when I started it. I thought I'd put down funny thoughts and stories and make my few readers laugh with me or when I'd throw out a problem perplexing me, have someone offer advice. But now I feel like I'm avoiding it. Like I wanna whine and bitch, but don't want anyone to know how NOT-together I have it. I wanna blog for me but this forum forces me to publicize my wailings. I guess it's good for me to get it out of my head and into the light. I'm not one for airing my dirty laundry with just anyone, but the essence of a BLOG is to do just that.

Blog...what a stupid word.

Blog. Blog. Bloggity-blog, blog, blog...blaaaahhhhhhgggg....ok, I feel ready now.

Nothing really joyful is going on right now- only a lot of things to worry about, and wallow in, and mope around about. I am about to turn 40 in a two short weeks, but I'm in good shape for my age (except for my GD eyesight which has the nerve of betraying me by getting weaker), so that's not it. I guess what's weighing on me is that I have a big, effing question mark to stare at which is called "the next 40 years" of which I have no control over and don't have a clue how it will turn out. As a young person, like everyone else, I assumed I'd have my shit together and set in place at 40. Married, kids growing like weeds, work, friends, and stability and travel plans on the horizon. A nest egg to add to and depend on for those upcoming Golden Years.

I have a lot of these things, so I shouldn't be all piss and vinegar. My work is solid even in the most unsolid of economic times. My friends are awesome. I have several to choose from when I need a shoulder, or an ear. My nest egg is holding steady, maybe even growing, and since I have the stable job, I haven't dipped into it. I've traveled. My house is my own. I can buy myself or my kids things we need and even things we want. We have health insurance. We have dental insurance. Both kids have Nintendo DSes and bikes and new shoes and the cutest Walmart, Kohl's, and Target clothes you ever did see. These are the good things I have, and I recognize I am blessed.

For myself, finding a life partner is that current blackhole in my future. I was supposed to have that deal already wrapped up by now. I envy my friends who have stayed with their first loves, although there aren't many of them left. Either that or the "marrieds" are staying far away from me out of fear I have something contagious. I don't feel I even know what my type IS after my few experiences in my recent foray into datinghood. I'm starting to resent Match.com for dangling guys with alleged potential in front of me, and who I can clearly see have "viewed" me, but who apparently aren't interested no matter how high my "match percentage" is to them. Trust me, I've tweaked my profile and winked at guys in efforts to start something going, but the pickin's, they be slim.

Even the few good ones I've talked with or met I have a hard time mustering up the interest to keep it going, and apparently they feel the same. Bachelor #4 went away out of sheer neglect. That and the fact that chatting with him was about as exciting as watching paint dry. I'm starting to feel I don't want to meet my future love this way and I should maybe take a break from all the online action. The Austin area is teeming with divorced dads and I'm bound to bounce off of one without even trying. Yeah, sure. Eventually.

I also am tired. Tired every day. Plain ole' worn out, physically and mentally and emotionally. All 3 wrapped up in one big ball of apathy- and that ain't good. I drudge through my weekly routines and commitments and haven't been feeling the joie de vive, not like I think I should. I am happiest out on my bike, especially riding with friends, but all my other priorities limit me to only get rides sporadically. My kids need me and they are verbal enough to tell me that, and I feel a mountain of guilt if I take off for my own joy at the expense of theirs.

My kids' JOY is my other worry. My oldest, Lil Lady, is hitting puberty and has a mouth on her that can cut through cement when she's unleashing the angst upon her mother. She saves it up all day at school, when she doesn't understand a math theory, or her friend tells her she doesn't like her outfit, or she has to stay at the Y-afterschool for longer than she'd like...she saves it, and before we've even made the full 3 minute ride home from the Y to our house, she's begun with either hitting her sister, or telling me everything I do and say is wrong and it must mean I don't love her. She is quick to pull out the "you don't love me" when she's feeling particularly wronged. We go 10 rounds before I finally wise up and stop responding to her tirade and giving her the satisfaction of ignoring everything around me to concentrate on besting her. I finally wise up and shut my mouth and ignore her, and after trying to goad me back in and failing, she literally deflates and my sweet Lil Lady comes back to me. She still calls me "Mommy" and likes to chat about things like shaving her legs, growing out her bangs, and her future career (she's always trying to nail down her future job). When times are good, we love to snuggle on the couch and watch Modern Family and CSI together.

Then there's Chillgirl, who never knows when her sister will start to scream or hit, and because she's the littlest in the house, gets the brunt of her sister's tirades. Its quite possible (Lil Lady's counselor thinks so) that even though I divorced their dad when they were 4 and 8 years old, Lil Lady thinks the addition of Chillgirl was the beginning of the end of our marriage. She truely may believe that having a sister come into the picture complicated things between her parents beyond repair. I've told LL many other reasons why her parents are not living together, but she says she began her admittedly drama-filled persona at about 4 years old, coincidentally when her sissy came along.

But I shouldn't underestimate her sissy. Chillgirl looks at me with those big brown eyes and will still throw me a goofy face, even in the midst of a meltdown by her sister. This kid has a million funny faces to show me, like that poster of little cartoon faces showing all the different emotions they use with kids in therapy, and she will make me smile even when I've got steam coming out of my ears. Now Chillgirl is not always totally without fault. I sometimes can watch the gears moving behind those eyes and she's fully aware of how to passively-aggressively ef her sister up. And when karma works its magic, she gets her back. Oh yeah she does.



This is not to say these two little girls don't love each other. They usually play happily together and watch out for each other at school. I've walked into the Y and caught them laughing together and I've listened in the house and heard them playing "teacher/student" or "store clerk/customer". Its hilarious when they role-play. I think about growing up with a sister and she was definitely my target when I wasn't in the mood to be nice to anyone, so I keep telling myself this is all normal growing pains. This is the last week they will be at the same school at the same time together. Ever. I'm sad about that, so why shouldn't they be?

These being my biggest concerns in life, I look back on this buh-buh-blog and realize I have so much. I am in control of my own happiness now.

I now know why I started blogging in the first place.

Clarity.

Lessons in Humility: "So It Goes"...

Firstly, I want to thank the guru of love who came up with the splendid idea that single people should go online and post pictures of themselves, write about themselves, and basically only represent their absolute best, yet probably untrue selves to show the world. Put on display for others to view if they are looking for someone of the same age, or proximity, or "he likes felines too/he's a middle child too" (really?).

I do see the value in this form of what I'm loosely calling "dating". I have already met some nice guys. I would not have the opportunity to know so much information about a man I might meet in a bar, or at one of the kids' ball games, or in passing during my day. I cand reply or delete at will. That I get. Unfortunately now I have the eerie feeling that everywhere I go, there are men from Match.com around me, and I'm paranoid they are looking me with quizical looks on their faces which could mean "where have I seen you before?" and me doing the same. It's really an odd sensation that surprises me I'm out in public these days.

Daily on my email I am confronted by the never-marrieds, the divorcees, and the widowers who are supposedly my matches. Some are only 86% my match...WTF is that, you ask? The guy will be "athlete and toned", but he'll be agnostic. Or he'll love dogs, but never wanted kids. Uh, ok..hello, Match? Have you even LOOKED at my profile when you sent me this prize of a man? I have two kids. Count 'em, two. So if this freak doesn't want kids, then I'm going to venture a guess that he doesn't want me. The other bathos bit of knowledge is that MY profile is being sent to THEM as a possible match. I cringe to think of them looking and answering Match's question "Does she interest you? YES/MAYBE/NO" and then them going, "eh..." and moving on to the next female 30-45 on their list.

I've had six weeks of feeling like a piece of candy, stepping out of the limo, to meet my next prince, or frog as the case may be. The four guys I've actually met have probably been good catches/matches for some woman out there, but I'm not sure Match got it right for me. These guys emailed me, based on what they saw on my profile and I answered them if I liked what I saw on theirs.

Bachelor #1: Decided to talk to him because he ran and cycled and did triathlons, and because I needed to get off my ass and meet someone finally. He was 50 years old but I didn't want to rule him out, so I gave it a shot because I knew I'd have plenty to talk about with him. We had a nice lunch but when he mentioned he had a granddaughter a year older than my youngest, I was pretty much out.

Bachelor #2: This guy was my age, divorced with kids close to my kids' age. Good job and liked things I liked. I met him for coffee and it went well but then after that, nothing much more. It was a bit dry from the start, and I hoped we'd talk more but he only emailed and texted and it never got off the ground so I stopped answering him. He'll be good for someone a lot less chatty than me.

Bachelor #3: He was a lesson in what NOT to do. He emailed and I replied and we already were making each other laugh by then. He called and we talked for 3 nights before we met and it was plain ole fun. We met at lunch and the great repoire continued. He asked if he could kiss me when I was leaving and I told him no. Then I got in the car and he leaned over and kissed me anyway. More calls and opening up about our exes and kids and families. It even worked out for him meeting me out at a live-band event with our kids there, and all went well. He kept saying how great I was, and we talked of a Friday night date the next weekend when we were both kidless. But then as that work week began he seemed a bit stressed about work and issues with his ex and daughter, and less talkative and then he said I wasn't talkative but I didn't think I was acting any different than the week before. I had made the last call on that Tuesday to him during the day to chat as we'd done the few days before. I was so stupid to ask what we might do that Friday night, and he said he hadn't even thought about it yet. But we ended the call in what I thought was good spirits, but he didn't call again that night or the next day or the next. I wasn't calling him again so I wouldn't appear stalkerish. I later thought about our last conversation and me asking about Friday on a Tuesday--that DID seem geeky and a bit desperate. Ugh. Rookie mistake.

Friday came and my BFF Cora and I already hashed out that this guy was a jerk and not considerate enough to check in with me after 3 days of no talking to either cancel the date or confirm it. I still had hope because he had been such a fun guy and I thought we had something starting. But noon came and went and then I began to think, well this is just RUDE. At 4:30pm, he calls. Starts right in with what a shitty week he's had and that he wouldn't be good company and he just needs to stay in tonight. No big surprise for me, but how do I handle it? Act shocked and/or pissed, or cool and aloof? I chose cool and aloof. Told him jokingly not to blame me for his female bosses irrationality and his ex-wife's bitchiness. That I'd been "nothing but nice"...ha...ha...ha...<<<< this was said jokingly but is typed sarcastically, as in, WTF, you are in a bad mood so you prefer to go wallow in it over going out with a cool chick (that'd be me) and having fun and forgetting your troubles? He said we'd have to "try again", and I said alright I'll talk to you later VERY non-chalantly. But in my head I was saying, Hey dude, go EF Yourself....that's what I wanted to say, sure, but nah...HE AIN'T WORTH IT. Girls! Did you hear me on this one? NO GUY is worth allowing them to pull this crap, especially when you are in the "getting to know you so you better fake the nice guy crap to me for as long as you can" phase.

Too many other profiles to scan...

Bachelor #4: So far-so good with this guy. Experienced as I am now, after 3 other whole meet-n-greets, he's doing everything right so far. No, its not fireworks and sex-talk quite yet, but he's interesting, likes skiing and cycling (BONUS!), is unattached from his ex by 6 years, and has a child who he puts first. We emailed quite a bit before talking on the phone, where not overly too much was shared, but a date for coffee was agreed upon. An email the day before the coffee-date was sent by him to check in with me and confirm the coffee-date, and the coffee-date happened as advertised. That went well, an hour, not too long, and we left each other with only a hug. I worried that couldve been it but by the time I checked my email a few hours later, he'd written a "Follow-up" letter to say thanks for meeting him and hopes to get together soon.

Yay Mr. Nice Guy...you're doing great!