Blog by Yessica Maher, los Angeles Native.

She explores life after marriage, starting a career in her late 30's, relationships, breaking cycles of abuse, online dating, self care, fertility and depression. 

It's all over the place, but so is living. 

Happy Days

Usually a new job interview means I arrive super early so I can check out the neighborhood.  I want to know how safe I’ll feel leaving work after the sun goes down.  I want to see what my lunch options are and how close my nearest bank branch is.  I chose a brick and mortar bank with the highest APY I could find.  That means fewer branches are available.  I get to the job and the first two things I look for are the break room and bathrooms.  You can tell a lot about a company by the way it treats its employees in places unseen. I’m no longer funemployed and job hunting at the beach on phone apps. Honestly, if I had not landed this job, I would have been happy with the 40 minute interview. My supervisor is phenomenal and every ambition I've ever had danced a jig during our conversation. I have a desk and not a view but the people are nice.  The bathrooms are huge with many extra supplies in plain view.  They not only have girl products available, they’re free and each sink has Bath & Body Works soap and lotion bottles.  The coffee bar is insanely huge and stocked and while it isn’t as beautifully designed as my last job, they clearly love us here.  I walked in and was given a mug, pen, and notebook with my onboarding signatures.  They’re pretty sly.  My marketing swag also helps them cut costs and save the earth in not needing to provide paper cups.

I’ve learned my lesson and can’t afford another workplace crush that will keep me distracted and giggling, so I’m keeping my head down.  I still think about him and that's insane. The job I’ve been waiting for is here, and the greatness I experienced on my first day made me appreciate what waiting means, and I got home and let go of someone I was trying to make worth my time. I needed yesterday's work lesson to sink in to get that it translates to dating too.  I can wait for the right one and I don't need to settle in the mean time.

Online dating is amazing and funny and insanely crazy.  I’ve had the bad.  I’ve had a creepy man not notice when I flinched from his lean in to kiss me.  I had one tell me about wanting to live out a rape fantasy and needing me to fight him to excite him.  I’ve had the ones that wanted to dominate and the ones that wanted to be dominated.  I’ve had the ones that wanted me to want them, knowing they were happy sleeping around with anyone willing.  There was the one that keeps checking in with me to see if I’ll give him my banking information. But there’s good too.

Yesterday was my first day, and throughout it, I had 4 to 5 men check in to see how my first day was going.  There was my first kiss in over a year and the first kiss I willingly gave to someone other than my ex in the last 16 years. There was the one that is too young, and too far, but I wanted to bend my rules for him.  He's beautiful. There was the one that is willing to teach me computer coding.  He's kind. There is the business man half way around the world that texts me at random moments.  I'm on his mind and he keeps telling me he wants to shower me with his love, but I'm skeptical. He may be catfishing me, but that’s okay too.  There’s the one that isn’t that cute, but determined to show me a good time. He gets that he comes after my boys. And of course the deployed men that I’ve turned down, but haven’t had the boldness to tell that my Dad’s PTSD ruined their chances with me.  They get turned down, but don't seem to read or hear my rejections because they think an email will change my childhood.

These men are clearly only interested in how I can make them feel and not me, because my blog name is in my profile and I can always use a boost in my stats.  I can see how many hits I get at any given time.  I’m really not worried they’ll read my words.

The best moment was after work last night. I was dealing with co-parenting issues on my way home and when my anger was peaking, I got a call that made my ride home special. He is beautiful and has a really thick Italian accent.  I can’t understand half of what he says, but it sounds so sexy that I don’t think it matters. I can hear him tell me I'm beautiful and he wants to spend time with me.

I’m having fun.

Cat fishing 

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