January 7, 2018

Men have forgotten how to date. It’s actually quite simple.

Men have forgotten how to date.

Two years ago, I thought I’d never have to date again. I was in love, it was easy, and it was right. We were planning our future together.

And then he died suddenly in a motorcycle accident on July 2, 2016.

I went on a wonderful date this weekend. We have friends in common, shared interests, and an obvious physical attraction to each other. He was a little distant at first. I couldn’t tell if he was nervous or what, so after the show, and after a quick bite & a cocktail, I asked if he wanted to walk from North Beach up to Coit Tower. He immediately loosened up, and we started connecting. And kissing. It was fun. He just needed to get into his body and out of his head. It’s why I like hiking with friends, too. It’s better connection time than dinner.

It’s now two nights later. I’ve heard nothing from the guy. After our date, we went to our separate homes and texted for another hour or so. I know I’ll hear from him again, I just don’t understand the crickets.

It’s hard to date. Okay, it sucks. I’ve had to actually say out loud that a requirement to dating me is that you have to ask me out on a date. Lots of guys show interest, but can’t say “Would you like to have dinner with me?” It’s shocking how hard this is. And I won’t do it for them.

So now I’ve found a great guy who can not only ask me out but plan a fun night and treat me well. He opened the door for me. He bought the tickets (then we shared dinner and I bought the drinks). It was clear he was happy with the kisses and didn’t expect anything more. He even waited till five minutes after I called my Lyft to call his.

He lives in anther state and went home the next day. And he has not said a word to me since our 4am texts!

Here’s what I would like; what I would do if I were the guy (I’d make a great boyfriend/date, but then that’s because I know what women want): text me to let me know you had a great time and are looking forward to seeing me again. Then wait till you are coming back to town and, with three days notice, ask me out.

Without that initial follow up, I start to think he isn’t interested. And with today’s ease of meeting people to date online, I’ve got just as many options as he does. Should he skip the follow up, I may think he’s not that interested and not reply to a date request in a few weeks. Because why waste my time if he’s not that into me?

The formula for the first date is pretty simple:

1. Ask her out. Make a plan!

2. Be polite, ask her questions about her life, show interest. Don’t expect more than yummy kisses.

3. Follow up within 24 hours with a brief message that you had a great time and are looking forward to the seeing her again.

4. Ask her out again three days before the date you want to see her.

5. Give it a few dates. You may know you can’t stand someone right away, but sometimes the magic takes a little while to gel.

We all have lots of options – online dating is like a video game – so don’t play it too cool or you just might destroy a good thing.

January 2, 2018

Wow, 2018. That’s a big number for someone born in 1970. I’ll turn 48 later this year.

It’s been 18 months to the day since Rupert died. I’ve spent the evening finishing up my goal setting workshop and starting The You-Nicorn 30 day coaching workshop. The goal setting was amazing, and I have a list of what I need to do this month in order to achieve my three month goals. I have goals listed out five years!

The 30 day coaching was harder. We had to write about something that felled us with the perspective of how it made us MOVE FORWARD. Of course I wrote about the death of my boyfriend. I wrote it fast because it is so painful. I wrote about him encouraging me to be Absinthia all the time, not just in some circles. I wrote about him raising the bar, causing me to be strong enough to walk away from my parents and from men that don’t deserve me. I wrote about how confident I am that I will find the partner I’m seeking. I will find love again.

And I wrote about how goddamn determined I am to achieve my goals. He didn’t live to turn 46. I did. I’m still here. And I’m alive and I’m going to make sure every day counts. His death felled me. Once I was able to stand up, I made sure that experience moved me forward. And I’m still moving. I’m still alive.

July 28, 2017

I think what people don't realize is that no matter how much they hurt me, I've already been cut deeper and survived.

I wasn't invited to a friend's birthday dinner this evening.
He hasn't called.
My housemate brought home dinner and left mine in a box, while plate-ing theirs and eating it in their room.

It made me feel isolated and hurt. Single. Lonely. I'm single, but I'm not lonely. I ended up at a friends picking something up from her for tomorrow's costume event and having a lot of fun. I spent the rest of the evening home relaxing.

I surprised myself when tears started falling. I miss him terribly. I like this new guy more than I should, and I know he's always going to let me down. I hate it when a bucket with a fuck in it appears in my hand. I need to remember my faith in the future. Someone new will come along and shake things up, and I'll wonder why I was hung up on a known disappointment. But right now I care and it hurts.

It's just a small hurt, though. I can handle it. I've lived through the last year and the four years before that, and this is not even a thing.

No man will ever hurt me again like that. I can't say for certain that's the worst thing that will ever happen to me; I can say that I've survived it. I have so much to do here, and I'll keep on surviving.

Oops, there goes that bucket of fucks.

July 17, 2017

Hi. It’s been a while. 

It’s been over a year since I started this. Am I still the hot grieving MILF?

Of course I am. Somewhere in my heart, as long as it keeps beating, I always will be. 

Some days it feels like I’m fighting to stay off the antidepressants. 5htp, l-tryptophan, staying away from things like alcohol and too much indica. Some days it feels like that and a well of inner strength, source unknown, are the only way I can stay off the anti depressants. Keeping myself going at a breakneck pace with work and school and kids and dating. 

Not today. Today was a good day. 

I miss having a partner, one who doesn’t play games, who rolls with the punches. Mature, kind, understanding, and, just as importantly, whip smart and ridiculous amounts of fun. 
For now, the dating is okay. It’s entertaining me, and it’s filling some needs but not all needs. I’ve realized I’m 46 years old and terrified of commitment. Terrified they won’t be alive the next time I want to see them. I don’t trust life. I don’t particularly trust death, either. 

Truth is I enjoy it. I’m good at it, dating. Sometimes it blows up in my face. I keep one around too long, a month instead of leaving them behind at the conference, and they say:
“You’re bossy.”

Um, single mom, triple entrepreneur, MBA student. HA! Yeah, and?

Sometimes I am surprised one comes back for me, and I handle the first sign of bad behavior head on. I receive a sincere apology, and I hear:

“I can’t play with fire as hot as you and not listen.”

That’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever been told. I have a secret box with love letters, dirty notes on cocktail napkins, and cards that arrived with bouquets of flowers. I guess I’ll have to print this one off my phone. 

Sometimes I call an old friend with high status and ask for a favor and receive an enormous gift. One that opens doors and warms my heart immensely. 

My marketing presentation was very well received. My personal book project was given the green light tonight. 

I’m alive. I’m living. I’m on fire. 

April 17, 2017

A friend asked me to read this with her. Wow can we talk about mixed emotions here? I’m excited to grow and learn and gain wisdom from this highly recommended book, and yet the reason I’m single is because of a motorcycle accident. I know how to love deeply beyond “the Games of Seduction.” I had it and he died. 

I believe someday it will all make sense somehow. 

April 7, 2017

Previously, I’ve been devastated because he’s gone. Tonight, I’m devastated because I’m moving on.

It was supposed to be this faery book romance. Instead, I’m moving on. 

Rupert and Absinthia took us both by surprise. We were friend zoned when we were teenagers because I was dating one of his housemates. Flash forward 20 some odd years and a drunken hook up after the Dead reunion tour – our first Show together since ’89. We fell in love. And then he died. 

Nine months later, I find myself grieving again. It’s been building over the last week or two, I can see that. And here it is. Emo music, tequila, tears, and all. This wave is different though. I’m not devastated because he’s gone, I’m devastated because I’m moving on. I’m moving on and I’m starting to see that clearly. Knowing that makes me ache. Its breaking my heart. 

I’ve had three lovers since he died. Beautiful people, inside and out. They have been one right after the other, short term but, strangely, serial monogamy. Brief and intense. Just days between each. Sudden, intense connections with limited face to face interactions. Two long distance, the other a bridge between. The ends of each have lingered with tangled emotions, with one deliciously continuing on from afar. It’s like I’ve lived years in the last nine months. I feel myself moving on after Rupert, and it feels right and wrong and I don’t want to be but I am and I need to. I have to! It’s important. Rupert is dead. He crashed his motorcycle. He’s not coming back. It hurts to be getting over him. It hurts more then any things ever hurt in my life. And yet, I’m doing it. Three lovers. That counts as moving on. 

I would like to find a way to take something positive from this. I don’t want to be hardened and unable to allow myself to make a connection with another man. This lifetime is teaching me male loss. Why is there so much male loss in my life? I don’t know how much more I can handle before I rid myself of the lot of them. Men. Fucking assholes. Too bad I really, really love men. Tall little boys, taught to be serious and to win, with their easily awakened silly sides, unsure of women and themselves and arrogant and entitled all at once. Not to mention their smell…mmm. Sorry, where was I? Right. 

Throughout my life, I’ve experienced father  abandonment repeatedly, divorce (my choice so that seems really different), the deaths of Alexius Stephen Rupert. My two gay husbands and my lover. Partner. Boyfriend. Late boyfriend. Men I never wanted to say goodbye to. Is it a wonder why it’s so much easier to say I love you and feel love with my female friends? Do I hold men at a distance because of this? Have I? Am I now? Will I, in the future?
That’s not who I want to be, walking away from this tragedy. I am moving on. I can choose how I will be. 

I choose connection. I choose love. I’m not going to be rash, but I’m not going to hold back. I do it in an invisible way, the holding back. You can’t see it but you can feel it. I’ll be open, and I’ll listen so much better than I talk. 

That’s where my work begins.