Urban Myth vs. Reality

I have several single female friends who are also forty-something. They each live in different cities and I can honestly say that each is attractive, smart, funny and a great catch. Each of these women has the same take on dating, esp. dating after 40, and it goes a little something like this:

"There are no good men out there. Everyone left at this age has some major issue (crazy, mean, won't commit, lazy, socially inept, etc.) and that is why they are single."

After going on approximately 10,407 bad dates myself, I sometimes buy into this philosophy. You know, it's too late. All of the good ones are taken. Only the crazies are left.

But common sense tells me that some guys our age are going through divorces of marriages that just didn't work. Some are widowers. Some found out a spouse was gay. Some have been engrossed in school and career (like some other people we know) for the past 20 years and are just now coming up for breath.

Perhaps the biggest reminder that it DOES work for some women over 35 is a sampling of the single mom blogs out there. Every single mom blog I follow has one thing in common ... NONE of these women is single any more. Not one. And they all seem happy in their new relationships. In fact, they seem thrilled.

And so the search for truth continues ... and perhaps part of that truth is the reality you create in your own mind.

Re-thinking Happiness

It is the Sunday night of Labor Day weekend. Lucy and I have had a wonderful weekend so far. After several consecutive weekends of travel and vacation, we've spent much of this weekend alone, together. Alone together. An oxymoron that really works.

The weather has been perfect. We've walked, gone on adventures, napped, read books, played with friends, and had ice cream. When I put her down to sleep tonight and gazed out the window at our beautiful view I thought, "I feel full." Happy, and full.

I know people who like to jam pack their schedules and lives with events. They race from one party to the next, travel every weekend, get home late on Sunday night and don't unpack their bags or catch up on laundry until Thursday. I've never been that girl. I like to have time to breathe. To enjoy the moment. To come home a few hours early to regroup before the week begins.

And I think this is how I feel about my life right now. I'm inhaling every moment I have with Lucy. She is almost a year old and these 12 months have flown by, just like everyone swore they would.

I've dated a few guys in these 12 months, but mostly I've been alone, together with Lucy. Sure, I miss adult company, companionship, conversation and physical intimacy. I'd by lying if I claimed otherwise. But I've also relished the time I've had with Lucy --- undivided time without outside stress, conflict or compromise.

And so tonight I'm left to rethink happiness. For so long I thought there was a missing piece to my puzzle for which I was constantly searching. And now I wonder if I have all of the pieces right in front of me --- and they fit together perfectly.

If You Ask A Stupid Question,

you will definitely get a stupid answer.

Today Lucy and I were at a local museum and a very nice, but rather over-the-top, woman commented that Lucy is very tall (she isn't). Her own daughter was 6 months older than Lucy and half her length and girth -quite the petite flower. This woman could not get over Lucy's length and finally said, after peering at my ringless left hand, "Is her father really tall?".

The question hung in the air.

It was my moment of truth.

How do I answer this? Honesty is the best policy. Simply explain that Lucy doesn't have a father, but that our family sperm donor was indeed 6' feet tall and also had brown hair and eyes. After all, this is becoming a common practice. It's practically mainstream. Like ice cream and apple pie. Chevrolet. Franks and beans .... err, you know what I mean.

So I sat up tall in my seat and replied, "Yes, he is quite tall."

Simplicity trumps full disclosure.

$40 Well-spent? or Down the Crapper?

So, Mr. Wonderful from jdate didn't write me back, although I could see that he did read my message (don't you just love technology?). Perhaps he is not ready to be back out in the dating world. Perhaps he just wasn't that into me. Or, perhaps he is rather dick-ish. Likely, my friends, the world shall never know.

And so I am left to ask the age old question philosophers have been pondering for centuries, "Were these 40 jdate bucks well spent, or more money down the kosher crapper?".

Like Plato, Socrates, Kant and others who have come before me, I'm left to muse over this deep philosophical issue. After deep thought and meditation, I have to say that the money was well spent. It is rare to find even a profile that peaks my interest. Better to have blown money for lunch, a movie and a giant pack of Twizzlers to see if Mr. Wonderful was really wonderful than to invest the money in a failing stock market and always wonder. Asked and answered.

Minutiae Dump

My life backpack is a little heavy these days, so I've decided to dump the minutiae. Although every piece of minutiae is miniscule by itself, it sure adds up.

Case in point: dating minutiae. I decided to join jdate for a month and e-mail the 'Wow' guy previously mentioned. Before I got around to joining, I noted that he pulled his match.com account and had taken his jdate account off of the searchable mode. This made me question whether he has decided he isn't really ready to date, or if his inbox was simply flooded with Jersey jdate chicks who were hot for a widower making more than $100k per year.

The dilemma - to e-mail or not to e-mail? if he is non-searchable, will he find it stalkeresque that I had saved his profile to Favorites and am just e-mailing him now? Should I e-mail him now, or wait a few days so he can potentially stumble across my profile himself? Would he prefer making the first contact, or find it flattering that I took the initiative? Are the pictures in my profile representative? Should I take a few more? Which should I lead with? What should my e-mail to him say? How should I sign it? At what time of day should I ......... ENOUGH. THE ANSWER IS: WHO THE FUCK CARES???????.

Honestly, people -- enough. It really just doesn't matter.

If he likes me, and I like him, it really doesn't matter. And it won't matter if I wear a black shirt or a gray shirt on the date. Jeans or khakis. Heels or flats. If its there, its there. If its not, its not. Done.

This is really very freeing; I wish I'd come to this truth about 10 years ago. It would have freed up enough room in my lifepack for a sleeping bag.

Please Don't Step Away from the Couch ....

I met with my therapist last week and told her I thought it might be time for us to break-up. I mean, let's face it --- I've survived a broken engagement, the decision to have a baby on my own, the trauma of realizing I needed to use a gestational carrier, and the first 10 months of raising a baby on my own. At this point, what else is there to talk about ????

I told my therapist last week that I'm sick of Dating. Sick of talking about dating, sick of looking for people to date, sick of analyzing why its difficult to find someone to date, and most certainly sick of the actual act of Dating. Enough already.

I told her that I wanted to transition my dating approach to the approach I used to find my new home. Namely, I never thought I'd live in my old home forever; but, I was certainly happy enough there and never gave finding a new home much thought. And then, in the midst of my parents pseudo-divorce when I was looking for a place for my mom, I literally stumbled across my current home when I was meeting my real estate agent at an open house. I walked in, looked around, and said, 'Wow'. Took two more steps and repeated the prophetic, 'Wow'. Looked out the window and repeated, "Wow'. My real estate agent said, "Maybe you should buy this place for yourself, and your mom can have your place." Ding, ding, ding! And right there the decision was made.

I explained to my therapist that this is my newest approach to the big D word. I'm happy where I am, but I'd never pass up a good deal if I stumbled upon it.

And so, just a few days later, those words still lingering over her therapy couch, I was trolling the dating sites and ... Wow. There is a profile that resonated with me (that makes 1 in approximately 25,000). And I find myself acting like a nutball. This is a short sampling of my thoughts:

He just joined this site, he is being swamped with e-mails from single women. I'm not writing to him.
He says he'd date women in my age range, but he really wants to date a 32 year old.
He is probably a jerk.
I've got a good gig with my baby, my home and my friends --- why screw this up?
I'll probably plunk $39 down for a month membership and he won't reply to my g.d. e-mail.
Shit, I think I could like this guy.

And so, it appears that I will not be breaking up with my therapist any time soon.

Party of One

Last night Lucy and I went to a meetup event for new moms. I would really like to meet other moms and kids in my town, and this group seemed progressive and interesting. What the hell?

The meetup was a picnic at a beach less than a mile from my house. Although it was literally 90 degrees in the shade, and I'd had kind of a long day at work, I slapped Lucy into her carseat and off we went.

The other moms were really nice. Friendly, welcoming - very nice. But also at least 10 years younger than I am. And stay at home moms. And each had at least 2 or 3 children. And, of course, they were all married. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Okay, I didn't expect a group of clones. And I certainly don't expect anyone to have exactly the same story as me. But its a little tough relating to people who are so different on every possible level.

I'm not sure if Lucy and I will attend another event. Maybe, maybe not. But somewhere out there, there has to be a few people with some elements in common. Damn, this is like another form of dating.

Beauty Treatment

When I was in college I opened a fortune cookie that read, "The greatest cosmetic for beauty is happiness". I kept this fortune in my jewelry box for years and years (and still stocked up on Clinique bonuses in the meantime).

I'm now a true believer in this fortune. Happiness - and confidence - are keys to beauty.

I've always been tough on my own appearance. Like too many women, I hate having my picture taken and hate looking at those pictures. I've wasted countless hours, days, weeks anguishing over my weight, my skin, my nose, my hair, and just about every mundane body issue you can imagine.

And now I'm a new mother, with less sleep and time to myself. My appearance has fallen low on my to-do list. Add dark circles, eyebrows that need plucking, and a body with less than the desired amount of exercise to the equation -- you get the picture.

Yet, this weekend I asked a stranger to take picture of my daughter and me in the swimming pool. Yes, I was wearing a bathing suit. Why, you ask? Because my desire to capture these moments on film outweighs my insecurity regarding my appearance.

The pictures showed me with wet hair, slicked into an Eddie Munster 'do. White skin. And did I mention I was wearing a bathing suit? And yet, they ain't bad. Why? Because I'm holding my daughter in these pictures and she is happy and having a great time. I feel fulfilled and I think it shows

But fulfillment isn't the only beauty secret here. I feel proud of myself. I didn't let a biological clock, a late- or never- entrance of Mr. Right, or fear stop me from making my own dream come true. It wasn't an easy decision to make, it wasn't easy to get her here, and it isn't easy to do on my own --- but I did it anyway and I continue to do it every day. And that day-by-day accomplishment not only feels good, I think it looks good.

The Gold Prom Dress

When I was a senior in high school I was absolutely, positively determined to have the coolest prom dress on the planet.

I didn't want the typical dress from the local mall that every other girl would be wearing. I wanted something unique, different, a stand out. It was my mission --- and you know that nothing stands between a 17 year old girl and her mission.

My family and I were going on spring vacation to Florida and this seemed like the perfect place to find my dress. Although I am not a shopper, I dragged my entire family to many, many malls that vacation. I tried on short dresses, long gowns, Madonna-inspired creations (it was the 80s), and Jessica McClintock Cinderella frocks. None of them worked.

I tried on shiny gowns, black gowns, fluorescent gowns (again, it was the 80s). Nada.

I tried on skinny dresses, big poofy dresses ---- no dice.

My family was beginning to revolt. It looked like we would leave the Sunshine State without my prom dress. As my mother put it, "You're going to look pretty funny at your prom in your birthday suit." (Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom). And then we went into the last store.

There it was. A gold lame (reminder: it was the 80s) creation that was tight in the right places, poofy in the right places, and completely unique and original. It was worth the wait.

Thinking back on this dress has reminded me of many things in life I had to work extra hard to get. My education and subsequent career, my daughter, and yes, that gold prom dress. And although along the way it seemed in all of these situations like I might never make it to the finish line, I did. And the reward was greater than if it had come to me easily.

Check, please!

I stole away from work yesterday to go on a lunch date. (Yes, I told my office manager that I had a meeting at another office --- is there anything wrong with that????)

This guy caught my attention because he is both funny and smart - a rare combination. I showed up at the designated restaurant right on time, and he was already there and seated -- bonus points! He was attractive in an alternative, metal earring sort of way -- definitely not my normal gig, but I was willing to be open-minded. The conversation was easy, candid and entertaining and he actually asked questions about me and my life -- what a novel concept.

I liked him. I wasn't sure that I liked him, but I was having a good time and was entertained by his stories about parenting his teenage kids. While talking to him I was asking myself if I'd go out with him again, and then the check came. Keep in mind that he invited me to lunch (we'd originally planned on coffee) and that the total bill was $25. He got out his credit card and I gestured toward my wallet when he said, and I quote,

"I can just buy the whole lunch if you want me to."

Wow. Sounds like a line that would fly out of Humphrey Bogart's mouth ... not.

For a moment I was really surprised. And then I recovered and said, "Oh thanks, but I'll pay half," and I did. I walked back to my office assuming that he too realized that we weren't 'a match' and this was his not-so-subtle way of imparting this verdict to me.

Wasn't I surprised to get a text that evening thanking me for lunch (or for paying my half?) and saying he hoped we could do it again soon. ???????? !!!!!!!!!!!. This morning he sent me an e-mail with the same sentiment.

Does this mean he likes me, but truly didn't want to pay for my lunch ???? I'm sorry, I am a feminist and a working woman, but when you invite someone out for lunch, pay the damn bill. If she makes a move for her wallet, be a man and say, "No, please allow me." If you don't, it sends a strong message that you are either not interested, have poor manners or have no balls.

Time Share

Molly and I were out to dinner tonight, hashing out our latest relationship follies. The guy she liked so much a week ago is now texting, calling and annoying her to the point of no return. We discussed the problem we both share: Yes, we'd like to be dating someone, but No, we cannot and will not drop our entire lives to be with that person. We have jobs, homes, friends, our own interests. We need oxygen.

And then we stumbled across a brilliant idea ... what we really need is a Time Share Man. We could each have him for 2 nights a week, max. He can spend the remaining three nights working out, missing us, and doing odd jobs around our homes.

Yes, this does sound like an episode of that Mormon HBO show. Okay, I'll accept that. No, we won't wear their clothes or hair styles.

Pillow Talk vs. Pillow

I'm going on a date tonight. The guy seems fine - smart, normal, fit, and he hasn't sent me pictures of his unclothed body (bonus points). He hasn't stalked me, played games, suggested I meet him 120 miles away, or asked me to marry him, have his baby, or perform lude sex acts in his car. I'm sure I should really be revved up for this date.

But honestly, I'm not. I so didn't want to be the woman saying this, but .... 51% of me would rather just stay home, clean my bathtub and go to bed early. Yes, I said it. Not very Milfshake-ish of me, I know.

My inner voice tells me that I should keep my options open, keep myself in the game, keep my heart open for love. But my outer voice, and the rest of my body, tells me that keeping my eyes open past 9pm is a bit of challenge.

Elmer Analysis

About 6 or 7 years ago a close colleague/friend of mine set me up with her cousin-in-law, whom we'll call Elmer.

This was one of those set-ups that you glance back on and analyze for years (obviously, I'm still at it). I've concluded that its simply 'I know these two people, they're both single, let's put them in a room and see what happens', rather than, 'Wow! These two were made for each other!'. At least I prefer to choose the former.

I knew I was in trouble with Elmer just by his name. But how shallow can you be? Of course, give the guy a chance! And he was well-educated with a great job and a good cousin-in-law. Elmer asked me to choose the venue, and I picked an inexpensive, funky bar and pizza place downtown.

As I walked from my car to the restaurant, I saw a middle-aged man with a backpack squinting up at the sign. I had one of those, 'Dear God, please don't let this be my date' kind of moments. Of course, this was my date. I knew I was in deep trouble when we were shown to a table and he asked to be relocated due to the proximity of the overhead speaker to our table, and then asked me if we could leave the place entirely and go elsewhere (why did you ask me to choose the venue???).

We arrived at the second restaurant and he fussed around like a Siamese cat for 10 minutes before picking a g.d. table. Fine. And then after an hour of discussion he said, "May I share an insight after knowing you for an hour?".

J.C. Fine, go for it.

"You seem like a very smart, accomplished woman who works for and gets the things she wants. But you've reached the age of 34 and you're still not married. This probably means that you don't want to get married."

The date with Elmer came to a screeching halt and we never spoke again. But this statement has haunted me for years.

Was he right? There are certain things in my life that were do or die. Like having a baby. Even if it meant having her on my own. With a gestational carrier. Do or die.

We all know some women who are hell bent to get married. Or have a big wedding. Or both. And they do. If I were hell bent to get married, wouldn't I have done it by now?

I'd like to think that the answer is that I only want to marry the right guy for me and he hasn't come along yet. Sometimes I wonder if I'm subconsciously happier being alone, but having a hard time letting go of that deep-set habit of trying to find a mate. I guess the jury is still out. Let's hope Elmer is not the Judge.

Milfshake

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100 Points of Right

I've spent the past decade of my life trying to be 'flexible', because I'm 'too picky', don't give guys a 'chance', and put 'too many things in quotations' (had to throw that in there). Seriously, this has been my mission for 10 damn years.

The Flexible Years are now officially over. I'm now all about the 100 Points of Right.

What does this mean, you ask? Well, its kind of like a vision board. You make a list of the top 100 things you're looking for in a guy. Ideally, the majority of these points would be substantive (e.g. smart, honest, kind). But with 100 points, there is also plenty of room for the more frivolous (e.g. strong hands, good gardener, quiet sleeper). You make the list and the guy appears in your life. Its that easy. Like amazon.com, only no shipping charges.

So I've scratched out the first 95 points on the back of my old vision board. This is the vision board I created a few years ago whose biggest picture is of a mother washing her baby in the kitchen sink. The next biggest picture is of a bright, white kitchen. After I created this vision board, I asked myself what the kitchen was all about. After all, I had no plans of moving or buying a new property. And yet here I am, just a few years later, washing my baby in the sink of my brand new white kitchen.

We'll see.

One Vote Wins

I was recently dating a nice guy who had a lot of opinions about parenting. Granted, it was nice to be dating a nice guy. And a guy who thought it was great that I'd had a daughter on my own. And a guy who cared enough to have opinions. Acknowledged.

But this guy had some opinions about parenting that didn't necessarily jive with mine. Private schools, preferably boarding schools, are the only way to go. Its great for parents to take small children out to late dinners in nice restaurants. Spoiling children with expensive toys is okay. All legit opinions, but just not mine.

I found myself listening to his opinions in a state of total calm. I didn't argue with him. I didn't get worked up. Ya know why? Because I knew his opinions didn't matter. It was bliss !!!!!!!!

Don't get me wrong, I still believe that it would be great to be in a healthy, strong relationship with a fantastic guy. Who helps around the house. And is great in bed. And is a quiet sleeper. And does dishes. Yes, I'm still a believer.

But at the moment, every decision I make - about my daughter, and everything else - is unanimous and final. No discussions, no compromises, no conflicts. I win every time. I have to tell you .... it works for me.

So, until a pretty damn good match comes along, I vote that being a single parent is working for me -- and one vote wins.

Knowing.

Last Friday morning at 3:30am I was sitting up and holding my inconsolably crying baby, wondering if it was teething, an ear infection or something I'd rather not even imagine. I finally got her to settle down and was having a much needed quiet moment holding her against my chest when I realized .... it's my birthday.

I flashed back to one year ago. This house was under construction, covered in a thick film of dust and looking like a bad scene from The Money Pit. Vanessa was pregnant with my daughter and I had told few people. I was turning 40, moving, having a baby on my own and knew that my entire life was changing. My nice, neat, controlled, predictable life was about to change -- radically and forever.

I thought back over the past year. The stress of a surrogate pregnancy, my daughter being born a month early under medical duress, the first three months of raising a tiny baby on my own while still working part time, the transition back to full-time work while managing a nanny. Sleepless nights, exhaustion, laughter, wonderment, tears, happiness, fear. What a blur of white-hot emotions.

And in that moment, in the middle of the night ... exhausted, worried, frustrated, and worth stating again, exhausted ... my main emotions were relief and joy. Relief that my daughter and I are finally together. Joy for the same reason.

When You Least Expect It

My father came to visit Valentine's Day weekend. Several weeks before his visit, he prepped me for the fact that he wanted to babysit for his granddaughter by himself. He started in by saying things like, "You can go shopping, you can run errands, you can go on a date. I will babysit for the afternoon, the evening, or both."

At the time I remember wondering, "Who in the hell am I going to go on a date with? I barely have time to shave my legs, let along troll the streets for a date."

Little did I know the planets would align and I would met a guy on-line about 10 days before my father arrived. We corresponded, he appeared witty and smart, and we decided to meet for coffee the weekend I had 24 hour babysitter coverage.

This guy was the last guy I would have expected to date. English was not his first language -- and was, in fact, his fourth. He was not born in the U.S., and is not from my area originally, He is a bit younger, has different hobbies, and an entirely different family and personal background.

And yet we met for coffee and hit it off. And then we met for dinner the next day - Valentine's Day. We spoke, saw each other, or both every day for the next several weeks.

I liked him enough to introduce him to my daughter -- a huge leap. And I liked him enough to show him the real me. And, although I had feared that all men would view my single motherhood situation as a 21st century leprosy, he viewed it as courageous, brave and beautiful.

Sadly, we both agreed this relationship can go no further for reasons that are both complex and quite simple. But I will take from this experience that love can fall into your lap when you least expect it. And, there are some real men out there who can see beauty and bravery in carving out a dream for yourself.

Through the Looking Glass ...

A close friend of mine, Molly, is 43 and single.

Molly is very attractive. Smart. Funny. Kind and thoughtful. Reliable and trustworthy. She is well-educated, has a good job, and hosts great dinner parties. She lives in a chic, funky beach cottage she renovated and decorated herself. In summary: Molly rocks.

Molly went on a date last Saturday with a guy she met on jdate. He is 49, seemed very nice via e-mails, is divorced and .... had just one picture posted. (I've decided that the one-picture posters must be approached with caution.)

When Molly opened the door to meet Mr. Jdate, she was immediately disappointed. He was older and puffier than he looked in his picture. Very nice mind you, but not as advertised (Why, oh why, do people do this???? You are not doing yourself any favors!).

Molly and Mr. Jdate went out to dinner and the evening was fine. C+. No sparks for Molly.

Molly called me the minute he left for the post-date play-by-play. Bottom line, she wasn't into him. But he seemed like a good guy. It's hard to find good guys. Maybe she should give him another shot. Maybe one more date.

I went along with the one more date plan. Fine, one more date. But in reality (and I hate to say this), you know after the first date. You really do. We all like to think that maybe you don't, maybe you're nervous, maybe he is nervous. We all know the woman who wasn't that into the guy on the first date and then he grew on her, and now they're married and living in White Plains with 3 children and couldn't be happier. But most of the time, you just know after the first date. Sorry, you just do, at least when it's all wrong.

Molly called me last night, tortured. Mr. Jdate has e-mailed her, called her, and reprimanded her for not getting back to her sooner (yesterday was Tuesday, mind you). Molly was pissed at him for being pissed. She doesn't want to see him again. But she thinks maybe it's her: She doesn't give people a chance. She is too picky. She is hard on people. She is unrealistic about who is out there. The list goes on and on ....

But through the looking glass from 20 feet away, it was so perfectly clear to me. She just doesn't like this guy. Period. It wasn't just that he was puffy and older than advertised. She just didn't like him. She isn't too picky, too hard to people, unrealistic, etc etc... she just doesn't like this guy. It's really that simple.

It's hard to pick a piece of chewed gum off of the bottom of your sneaker and form it into a sculpture worthy of display at MOMA. Sorry, it just doesn't work.

I'll have to keep this story in mind the next time I reprimand myself for the very same things. Life is so much more clear when it's someone else's.

The Pendulum

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Off the Clock

I hate women who go out on dates with guys and immediately start analyzing whether they have long-term potential, would be good husbands, and have a high enough sperm count to push out X number of kids in X number of years. I hate these women, and yet I must admit that I have been one of these women for the past decade.

I can honestly say that I haven't been on a date in the past ten years without summing up the poor sap sitting across from me within 2.5 minutes and deciphering how he would rate on all of the above. And I must admit that my analytical skills in this area were dead on. I often talked myself out of the information right in front of me in order to 'be open-minded', but the cards were on the table.

Now I'm off the clock. I have a daughter and I don't need a man. At least not in traditional terms.

But can I really pull it off? Can I date someone with whom there is little or no chance of a future, but with whom I might have some fun? (And I don't mean a 4-week fling before the ex-con has to return to work camp.)

Such a relationship might actually be ideal for me at this stage of the game. I have a new baby, a full-time job, a home I love --- I'm not sure that I want, need or have time to pull off a traditional relationship. Maybe a friend with benefits is the new black.