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.