Romantic Love

For the first time, I was given a topic to write about.  The person that made the suggestion is close to my heart and at first I was eager, even excited to write about love, trust, commitment and patience.  It should have been easy to bang this one out and call it a night. It was a Friday night and I was home alone, enjoying the quiet with the television on (really rare) and the many app alerts from men that honestly thought I would want to meet them in a way that was clear to me was just to fulfill a sexual need.

Love

I wasn't feeling love.  At one point a man asked why I was being so mean to him.  I told him he sounded like he just wanted to feel the back of my throat and I wasn't interested.  He kept trying to guilt me into seeing him and he stopped when I told him I didn't know how else to explain he was making me feel like a whore.  I could have blocked him, but he would never learn, and he'd just find me on another app.  (It happens often enough now.)

Trust

I wasn't feeling trust.  I couldn't trust the men I was talking to that wanted to spend time with me last night.  There was the beautiful attorney with auburn hair and blue eyes.  I could totally trust his intentions when he messaged "DTF." He got to the point of what he wanted from me.  There was an offer for Netflix and wine and another for Netflix and a massage.  I laughed because I have Netflix and Hulu at home and I can save the gas, and know that no one is secretly hoping to feel for my missing tonsils by the end of the night.

Commitment

My commitment last night was to my New Year's resolution of taking care of myself because I wasn't in the mood to make someone else feel better than I wanted to make myself feel.  It wasn't a complete bust.

Patience

Patience looked like a phone call last night. I had a conversation with a man that was all over the place and left me laughing so hard.  He admitted that he wasn't putting his best foot forward and his one sided conversation did require patience.  Once I settled into the idea I wasn't going out with anyone, I decided to stay in and took off my makeup and clothes, enjoying a night in my underwear on the phone and sipping tea.  At one point he told me I was intimidating.  He said it was my looks, and the way I wear my clothes and string along words.  I told him I was determined to find someone smarter than me and he said that is why I will never find a date. I'm asking for too much.  My patience paid off because that observation made my night.

But it's morning now and a good night's rest with a phone that was on vibrate all night has it's rewards and I'm feeling a rosy glow around the world right now.

2017 is greeting me with a transition from being in the moment to envisioning a romance that lives on beyond the days held carefully in routine and imagination. I'm exploring in words because the depth of such a reality hasn't hit me yet.  But it will.  It's been many years since I've felt romantic love that gets past infatuation and isn't bound by a commitment stronger than fickle feelings.

Infatuation

My obsessive observations are fun, but they always dance in the fascination of infatuation.  These are moments when I will notice details about a man I'm interested in to the point that it's creepy.  It's a happy place where I'm willing to look at the many things I find intriguing but it rarely means I've given him any thought beyond objectification.  I have not at this point decided I would care for him any more than I would care for any other human being. But thinking of him entertains and excites me. It's not a friendly practice.

Infatuation is a phase in a new relationship where I am willing to look deeper than friendship and see what feelings can be grown. It's a place where I make that initial choice to imagine more than friendship. Everything about the person I'm into is amazing and if it isn't, those amazing parts more than make up for it.

This is where I might entertain giving another man a baby.  No, I don't want more kids.  If I find the one I want to keep, I may reconsider it, but I can't tell you how many men around 35 see my mothering as sexy and want to put a child in me.

Love

There's a time when infatuation fades into the feelings of love.  Loving someone is a choice.  When infatuation fades and the excitement gives way to reality, his behaviors that were once okay can start to bother me.  At this point, I choose.  At this point, would I be happier walking away (I don't actually walk, but try to push him away)?  Could I be happier making space for his shortcomings, and loving him even if he's annoying me? When I decide to be open in vulnerability, I am making a decision to allow someone in.

When infatuation fades, I'm faced with a new choice to love someone.  This is when doubts and fears become a choice to believe.  I put my faith in the person I'm trusting with my heart.  I'm deciding that even though I see so many things I can't ignore in him . . . Even if my doubts and irritations are yelling at me, I still need him in my life.  I would rather live in a world where I get to make space for him and the ways he fails my expectations than go another day without seeing or talking to him.

Love is a choice.  You decide what you want to do and those feelings follow where you allow them to go.  This is where I might compromise and consider bringing a new life into this world.

Trust

I overthink all of the time.  It's a superpower but it's not always a gift.  I rarely accept things at face value and I'm often thinking of what was said, and holding it up to what I know.  I want to understand everything and my curiosity never stops.  When I have even a moment of doubt, my trust takes a step back.  Yes, I've been cheated on.  A few times by different boys.  I always offered the men I loved the benefit of the doubt.  I wasn't a cheater, so maybe he could be faithful to me too.  In theory.  Hopefully.

In reality I offer my trust to a person and put my faith in their belief to be committed to honor their word.  I'm at a place where I understand how much it means to me to be transparent and I try to offer the truth at all times.  It means you see my good and bad, but I'm not going to be ashamed of that. And I recognize that even in my bad, I'm a harsh judge on myself and do what many think and can relate to.

In my marriage I lied a lot about money or how I spent my time.  It was never about cheating.  It never occurred to me to cheat.  It was a lie to cover my shame in choices I knew wouldn't make him happy.  He couldn't trust me and so he'd look at my grocery store receipts.  He'd find my $25 Amazon gift card because that deception was how I partied.  But he couldn't trust me.

For that week when I had a boyfriend (is it terrible that I can laugh about that now?) there was one night with hand holding and snuggling.  There was laughter and I felt like I trusted him in that moment and that was a gift. I felt so much peace in his arms.  In hindsight, he never trusted me.  He gave me his nickname at first and it wasn't until the day before he broke up with me that he gave me his actual name.  He was born in the states, but his roots are in Palestine and he didn't trust that I would accept him for who he was. At one point he started dozing off and I picked up my phone to troll Instagram and Facebook.  I was off of the dating sites and I did field a text from someone wanting to flirt.  I let him know I had a boyfriend and that was the end of it. He wanted to see what I was looking at and what I was doing and it wasn't until he ended things that I could see how much he distrusted me.

Sometimes you trust your heart, even when you have a hard time trusting other people. Save your energy on a pity party because this is a choice made in the excellence of your own pure heart. And Lord help me, this is where I know having another child would be the right thing to do.  I trust a future with a person that I want to share my life with.

Commitment

I make commitments to myself daily.  I'm committed to creating space for self love.  I'm committed to only putting things in my mouth that make me insanely happy (food joy is a reality). I'm committed to creating a life I get to live with excitement.  Commitment to anyone outside of my kids . . .

I was committed to my marriage and while I had a boyfriend I was committed to him too.  It's not just the word I give.  At the end of the day, when the world fades away, all I have is my word and the strength of it is how I show up in this world and that matters to me.  Commitments aren't based on a mood.  They stand firm no matter what you feel.

When I committed to my marriage, it was all that mattered.  I know marriage often talks about honor and obeying as part of that commitment.  I felt I honored my ex, even if I didn't trust his leadership more than I trusted mine.  Obeying him wasn't what I wanted to do, but committing my heart and my body to our marriage was all that mattered.  I felt it was enough, and while I can admit I was wrong, I still believe a marriage is about the two people in the marriage.  It's spouse and spouse, and that doesn't include siblings and parents and friends.

Commitment means I show up no matter what I feel like doing.  It means I love you even when I don't like you.  It means I find ways to be attracted to you when you can't find it in yourself to love who you are enough to take care of yourself. It means what I might feel in any given moment takes a back seat to how I want you to feel when you are the person I choose to love and share my world with.  Commitment is about duty and it's where I find my honor.

This is a hallmark of parenting.  You commit to taking care of another person.  I don't know any parents that stop being a parent after 18 years.  It's a lifelong thing.

Patience

When I started taking classes at Glendale Community College, I was just out of high school and I didn't have a car.  My Dad was picking me up and dropping me off which meant some days a class was cancelled and I had to wait.  Or I had large time gaps in my day and I would just hang out on campus until my next class.  I wrote a lot of sappy poems. I wrote in my journal.  I sat in the cafeteria and found comfort in hot tea and soup.  I would wait on the front steps of the school in the heat or the rain, and I remember telling myself to be patient. Just wait.

When my kids were born, I had to live on their schedule.  Eating, sleeping, awake and crying, awake and playing, gassy, happy, angry . . .  Their world dictated my response and I was never happy about it.  I loved being a surrogate because feeling like a single parent with an infant was hard on me (because I prefer being selfish).

When my marriage ended, I found peace in patience.  From March 11 when I was told my marriage was over, there were ups and downs and I fought hard, and not well, but I found patience for him.  I convinced myself that no matter what, when he was ready to snap out of it, I would take him back and we would work on our marriage.  That lasted until February 12, almost a year later.

I learned patience and found comfort in knowing it would be over one day.  That day came when I changed my mind about what I wanted, and the transformation that has taken place has required patience with myself.  In dating I meet many men that have been through a divorce and when we talk, I can see the heavy burden that I felt while waiting.  The day I filed for divorce was a celebration for me.  But the scars of a life that was planned and celebrated together has it's own process of mourning.  I'm in a great place, but it has made me question how much is too much.

If you love someone, is there ever a point when you have been patient enough? I stopped being patient with my ex.  I was more committed to being a wife than being his wife and I realised it was no longer important to me to wait for him.  But where do you draw the line when you're in love? Do you look for a line to draw? I don't think I could.  I grew up in a home where love meant you are self sacrificing every moment of your life if that means the person you love feels it.  My parents might have lost their shit from time to time, but I grew up taking their patience for granted.  It is something I've tried to internalize.  I want to be that person in life and in love that was modeled, to the point where I now get to decide I won't help anyone by being a martyr to someone else's happiness through my self sacrifice and patience.

Patience is waiting even when you have no idea how long you'll have to wait.  Patience is enduring and finding strength within yourself when you know you can't find it in the person in front of you because they are relying on your strength, sustained by your patience.

Romantic Love

It's not an easy road.  Sometimes I imagine the rewards because they aren't always going to land in my lap.  When I put my faith in a romantic relationship, I believe it won't fail me even though to this day, every single one I believed in has failed me.  Would I do it again? Abso-freaking-lutely.  The rewards of being in love are worth every possible risk and moment of blind faith.  The ideals of commitment I hold close to me are strong enough that I can believe someone else would hold them just as closely to his heart.

I'm making space for my next romantic love.  When my ex was leaving, I made an effort to put family pictures all over the house.  I wanted to remind us all of who we were as a family.  When he moved out they stayed for the kids.  I told them I would take them down when I painted the living room.  That was my commitment to them and seeing these pictures for all of this time is an exercise in patience. I brought my boyfriend home and while I felt fine hiding him away in my bedroom, I'm sure it had an effect on him, even if it was unspoken.  It probably influences why I'm never home if my kids are gone.

This weekend I intend to be home for the most part.  I have taken the pictures down and washed the walls.  I will start taping the trim and I will begin priming and painting my living room.  I will finish changing the last room in the home I shared with my ex because it's time my little house becomes my home again. It will be a meditative celebration of change and it will be a space I will be excited to be in again.

Learning Empathy

I went to an empathy workshop.

I was at an empathy training workshop last night and the real lessons kept hitting late last night as I was finally dozing off around 3 this morning.  It was a class that found me through the MITT network of classes I started in July.  Through discussion and working on ideas and concepts with others, I get to take notice of my actions, and make changes. I get to see how I look at the world around me and really understand how narrow minded I am.  I get to break the confines of what I've always known to experience all that can potentially be.

My judgements kept me from empathy in my marriage.

I was hard on my ex.  Ending the relationship the way he did because he wanted happiness and found it in other people throughout our marriage was something I crucified him on. Over the last couple of years as I really got to look at my life, I understood the value of my happiness and I can see that I was depressed through most of my marriage. I loved him.  I just wasn't happy with myself.  I've learned that happiness comes from me.  I can't borrow it from someone else.  I can't take from who they are.  I get to make my own and while I can offer a smile, I can't put it in anyone else. Being apart was a gift but I was so attached to my role as a wife that I looked for my happiness in other ways just as he did.  The reality of his action in a marriage of our mutual inaction was a gift and without malice I can see the ways in which he fought for our mutual happiness.  I can no longer blame him for the many ways he gave me more than I asked for in the life I now get to live.

My self guided tour spends a lot of time in selfishness.

Through a self guided transformational exploration of who I am, I no longer find my value in what others think of me.  They have no point of reference in judging me and have no idea how to value me.  I am not my college degree.  The time I took to earn it was a challenge and it was emotionally rewarding, but it's a piece of paper and means little in my job search.  I'm not my relationships.  There is value in my relationships, but my relationship with myself means more than my relationship with anyone else.  I'm not my looks.  I like attention as much as the next person, but being a sex object when I feel so much better about my thoughts and ideas that are often ignored is never a good feeling.  I have a large brain and feelings!!!!

As a wife I was very selfish and couldn't see it without empathy.

I was rebellious in spending in ways that made me happy, justifying it as household necessities, knowing he wouldn't see it that way and hiding all evidence of that debauchery.  For both of us, it was about control.  I did it in small amounts I felt could be justified.  He never saw the value I did and saw all of it as the deception it was.  I wanted my home to be a place I wanted to escape to, and he wanted to escape from it. I sucked my time and energy into side projects like making soap with fat and lye.  Or learning all about keeping bees and chickens. I would garden and do all I could to ignore the chaos and the lack of support I felt in my own home. I would read books back to back so I could check out of reality and school became a priority.  He wanted connection and found it in other people and I always held the idea that I did nothing wrong in isolating him because I did it in learning and ways that I felt were important to me and my family and I didn't devote energies to other people and that meant I was faithful, right?

Last night in an empathetic perspective shift, I realized that he was looking for something to pull himself out of a marriage that wasn't satisfying to both of us. For him, it meant walking away in the ways he needed to. For me through my attachments to being the wife I wanted to be, it was on my birthday this year when I decided something so terrible and irreparable had happened that I could justify the end of a marriage, because being rejected and abandoned for 11 months wasn't enough. It was such a bad situation for both of us that something so drastic had to happen to justify walking away.

Empathy means I get to be vulnerable and release both of us.

I learned that through empowering myself, I have become the bully I felt he was being to me.  I get to take notice, and stop being aggressive when I know fighting back is a choice.  I know I can defend myself and I no longer need to. I shifted my perspective just enough with the help of someone else, I was able to forgive him on a level I didn't realize I had not forgiven him yet. I went through months of repeating to myself, "Iforgivehim, Iforgivehim, Iforgivehim." But I finally released the rest last night and it was just a perspective shift.  No crying.  No ritual or prayer.  Just a shift that let me release my ego, disconnect my emotions from thought, see it with new eyes, and let the fuck go.

Without empathy there is only selfishness and a commitment to being right and it is a pattern I took into my last relationship.

I had a boyfriend for a few days this week.  I don't actually write about my relationships until they are at the point where I am ready to release them.  I hold close what I intend to keep and the moment I start writing, I know they may see it and not like what I have to say and walk away. With each of them, I've already seen enough to feel he's not the one. It's like a last ditch effort for me because the most attractive thing I could hear is "I've read your blog and it's what makes me like you so much." It was something I would have never heard in my marriage and it means probably more than it should now. I heard that in the last week and it was the most intense and short lived relationship I've had since my marriage.  There was one night that is a gift I will unwrap in memories for a very long time.

The workshop I signed up for was sent to me as a message on Facebook and I got the alert while next to the man I was with.  I brushed it off, but the next day signed up anyway, fully knowing that I may be with my boyfriend, but also knowing there was a chance I wouldn't be.

How I met my last boyfriend.

Wednesday of last week I was doing my usual right and left swipe on a dating app. There was a man that was dragging out the conversation with a sentence a day for a couple of days.  I pushed and almost asked him out that night, giving him room to be dominant and actually do the asking.  He did and it was immediately attractive, even if the face in his profile picture was in shadow and hard to see. We ended up meeting at a bar, and as I learned from a friend that shared the workshop with me (as we continued our night at an epic viewing party in Beverly Hills we crashed), that was when I started rejecting him.

Rejecting and pulling him closer was selfishness.

It was that first gut check reaction when he stood next to me and said hello while I was looking in a different direction, and I flinched when I saw him.  It was in the ways he moved closer to me and I moved back.  It was in leaving and using my tone of voice and body language to flirt with another man, through innocuous conversation right in front of him.  It was as we were walking to our cars and his parting kiss was rebuffed in my excuse about public displays of affection.  It was in celebrating and laughing at going home by 10, asking my friend that works at the bar about that beautiful man I wanted to get to know better and a Facebook post that was a direct dig at the man's character.

Stopping my dysfunctions is something I get to work on.

Somehow the next day I went out with him again.  I loved his dominance in telling me he would pick me up.  I was talking to two men about him.  At one point I wanted to date them but ended up sticking them in my friend zone.  They told me I should go and I was deciding against him before giving him a chance the way I did to them.  I had nothing better to do and so I met him on a second date.

But he was so good in so many superficial ways.

The physical chemistry was there.  He had a body I could cry over.  (I might have when things ended.) The third date was following a familiar pattern and when he asked me to date him exclusively, I said sure.  I mean, he was my first actual date that got a second date since that beautiful but barely understood Italian man back in May. I had coffee, and hugs in the week before, but those weren't dates as much as meeting platonic friends I would never meet again.  It was easy to date him exclusively.  It followed the pattern of my boyfriends in Junior High.  Being his girlfriend meant no one else could steal me away.  Being my boyfriend was cool because no one else was asking me out.  I like to focus on one love interest at a time anyway.  Everyone else was just mental aerobics in bouncing from conversation to conversation.

We didn't really talk and I never allowed him close to me emotionally. I said yes to all he asked of me, without really considering the image of the future he had in mind.  He gave me a poetic moment and it just chipped away at the ice around me.  I nearly melted at his words and given time and really given the opportunity to step away from my judgement of him, it could have been special.

I rejected him in the ways I talked about him.

I told family and a couple of friends that I had a boyfriend, but the reality was I knew it was temporary and described it as such to everyone that I talked to about him.  I only told my family because I wanted to spend New Year's Day with him and invited him to join us. When my kids met him, my youngest had a gut check that didn't trust him (he blamed it on the shape of my boyfriend's nose), my oldest hid from him in the bathroom and his bedroom and my middle son gave him a classic autism dismissal.  He was a non person to my kids because they knew he was good enough for me, which he really was, but not good enough for them. I actually told them this.  The reality is he made me want to be selfish and enjoy him, going against my better judgement as a mom and not putting my foot down and saying no when he asked about meeting my kids.  At the time he said he wanted to grow a full relationship and make me his woman and start a family and all of that.  Instead I prepared them by saying they didn't have to worry because he'd never be their step-dad because I didn't think he was good enough for them.  I get to look at that on it's own. This was me rejecting him again.

The day he rejected me was when the cost of my rejections of him broke over me.

There was a dynamic shift and Tuesday night after we were exclusive for maybe 5 days, he broke it off because he wasn't comfortable with my male friendships that he saw as disrespectful.  And I didn't take it well.  I mean, I could see the jealousy and the ways that it would have grown into an abusive relationship because there was nothing deceptive in my friendships when I was clearly choosing (and simultaneously rejecting) him. His rejection was immediately seen as a gift because he was able to walk away when I knew it was right, even if I really didn't want him to. But he let me go before I was ready for him to.

I don't usually cry for the men I talk to and date.  I see the lessons they leave and there might be a bit of sadness, but rarely tears.  This was different. This was rejection and abandonment.  This wasn't me seeing him on a moment to moment basis, but actually imagining a few days ahead. I had this disconnect between what I knew wasn't a relationship I was really invested in and the emotional pain from the loss of it.  I didn't beg him to take me back but I let him know I didn't want to lose him.  It was the first time since I started dating that I meant it more than I wanted to.

Last night I was getting ready to leave and sat on the floor of my shower crying for a relationship I never wanted to grow.  He was fun, and I loved the way it felt to be in his arms and the many other things he made me feel, but I was objectifying him completely.  The moment I felt it was mutual, I felt a familiar ache that had nothing to do with him. I felt in the reflection of my rejection all of the pain I must have given him and I was shattered. There was a lot of good in him but in my rejection, I never closed the distance to really appreciate him.  He was tender and affectionate.  He was tall and I really loved his body.  He was capable of taking care of himself, even if I saw the ways in which I would live his life differently. He was mine, and then he wasn't and that wasn't a choice I made for us.

I was still blinded by my selfishness.

I left the workshop feeling like I needed to give myself empathy to put the relationship and all it was supposed to be ahead of the things that were important to me as an individual.  After a reality check from a friend in the many ways I was rejecting him, I knew I was being an asshat and not giving him an ounce of the empathy he deserved.

Last night I went to the workshop I had a feeling I would be at anyway.  I signed up for the class knowing that even though I had a boyfriend, the relationship might not last that long.  I don't know that I would tell him any of this.  It's not that I'm showing you all I am an asshole.  I'm okay with being authentic.  I'm not really a nice person all the time.  Some people think I am because I can be, but it's a choice. Part of me wants to make him feel better about the ways I rejected him.  I know that it is about relieving guilt and not for him. Part of me wonders if he saw it because until it was pointed out to me last night, I really couldn't. Part of me wants to give him the power of his rejection.  He made an empowered choice for his life and I need to give him that.  The rest of me wants to honor the many ways he affected me and taught me to shift my perspective, even if he has no idea he did.

It's amazing what stories make sense when you go through a situation and what a perspective shift can do.  In the class, I learned that empathy isn't draining if you exchange it with vulnerability. Seeing things with compassion, understanding and love is a gift I get to give to myself.

Hopefully you can learn from me too.

Think of a person you have a hard time seeing eye to eye with.  Give voice to your frustrations.  Give yourself permission to feel what you feel. Then flip it.  Ask what they would say you are doing to make them feel the way they do.  Look at them with love.  There's a reason, or maybe there was a reason that they mean enough to get under your skin. See their world the way they do and let go of the idea you are valued for being right.  That is what empathy looks like and in my case, it's got a heavy dose of guilt.

Dreaming Big

Dreams vs. Reality

My dream for my blog was always free therapy.  Somehow it became a point of conversation that has made people ask me for advice because I've found a way to live that makes it seem like I have answers.  It's odd for me.  It feels really strange like the times when I get asked for relationship advice from people that seem to see I'm not actually in a relationship and think I'm an expert.

Online dating, sure. We can have a laugh at my expense.  I can tell you about inappropriate texts and cat fishing.  No water, hook tying or smelly bait necessary.

Mothering boys, yes. More laughter.  Amazing rewards.  Heavy costs.

Moving on from a marriage.  I'm getting pretty badass at this.

Surrogate pregnancy, yeah. 3 surrogacies, 7 IVF cycles, egg donation, natural birth, c-section, twins.  Couples that made me feel things I couldn't imagine being gifted with.

Autism advocacy, hell the fuck yes.  Sensory integration dysfunction messes exploded last night.  I'll tell you all about it if I can hand you a scrub brush and get free labor.

Meaningful and lasting relationships . . . Can I get back to you on that? Although it might be closer than that pot of gold I'm after. I can show you my fear of commitment.  I can point out the ways in which I keep things superficial and how these relationships have been set up to fail.  Or the ways in which I made myself codependent to someone's narcissistic needs.  We can talk gas lighting and how easy it is to follow familiar and destructive patterns. I can show you how I push men away by being clingy because they prefer it when you really don't want them. And the best relationship advice I keep hearing is to pretend you don't, even if you do.

A couple of nights ago I dreamt I was on an adventure. I was finding my way through a place that looked like a park and led to hell. It was an ascent up stairs into hell.  I was on a rescue mission. I had a piece of wood, lit like incense and keeping it lit and smoking was my ticket back to the living. There were people on their adventures alongside us and somehow I knew enough about where we were going to advise them.  I remember the large concrete steps that were designed for something that wasn't human.  We had to climb each rise and trek across each run.  There were scattered pine trees around me and I was leading someone even though I was just as lost.  It was a strong contrast to what I actually felt when I woke and felt warmth and safety in my bed.  I was held and felt so much peace when waking that the dream itself was so foreign. I don't remember the last time waking at 4 am made me so happy.

Last night my dream included a man I wanted to be with a few months back. He was with his kids, and I was only visiting him as his date was leaving. His date was clearing plates, and threw away the rest of their Chinese take out, past the pleading of his daughter for the rice she wanted. As she left in her fancy clack of heels, I taught his little girl to make a pot of rice in her dollhouse kitchen the way my grandmother taught me to on the stove in my childhood home. We rinsed the rice, and I could smell the memories of basmati rice in the feel of water and grains slipping through fingers.  I showed her how to gauge the water by using her finger tip.  We set the water to boil on her tiny electric stove top and at some point her big brother flipped the house over, but we were able to save that pot.  My dream started with a man I was okay with letting go of and ended with the loss of his children and my grandmother.  This morning I woke up and it doesn't matter that I never met his kids or that my own were in the very next room, there was a feeling of loss that held me and forced silent tears to fall. It's a loss that feels like a dream that steps on scars of a past, only it's a present feeling that suddenly carries depth and layers.  Waking from this dream, I lost his kids, my grandmother and the current man that set my soul aflame and left me in burning embers. It layered and fell on me in emotions that screamed for release before my eyes opened.

What amazes me is the way I wake up from dreams and reality is shadowed by fiction so powerfully that I don't always know the difference. The peace in last night's dream was shadowed by a real moment of loss that I felt before I was fully awake this morning.

Dreaming and Real Life Goals

I was writing out my goals for the year.  They included personal growth, financial stability, travel and love. I kept looking at that list this morning and wondering why it all looks doable.  Nothing looks extraordinary.  It's all attainable.  And this sadness hit me because I knew I wasn't allowing myself to dream big.

Self Limitations

It was a set of goals that are based on limitations I was offered and accepted in the past.  I'm serving myself oatmeal for dinner and convincing myself it's the best possible goal and plausible outcome. Where is the food joy in that?  Where is the life satisfaction in knowing you accept less because you know it can be delivered?

The way I do anything is the way I do everything, right? I was talking to a man and I could see the ways he could make me happy.  What he offered me was like so much of what I had in the past that I could see his trailer and imagine a happy movie for me to get lost in, cry over, and see what the ending would be.  The ending is always happy or sad, because movies rarely just make you think, right? Lately all of my romances and crushes make me think and rarely (but sometimes) they might make me cry. I've never shopped around for a step-dad, so it was easy to see that he couldn't be a step-dad to my kids.  Good enough for me, but not my kids.  It took a few days for that idea to really sink in.

In love, I haven't started dreaming big.

In shopping for a step dad, there hasn't been an experience to raise or lower that bar for me.  It's still held comfortably at myself.  If I'm the badass warrior dragon slayer I am, I need the other part of my power team to be just as badass if he wants to be a step dad to my boys.  I've just never had a potential step dad for my kids that could lower my expectations.  He would fight for his sense of duty.  He would embody maturity to be modeled. He would be a man I would want to give more children to, in all of the lunacy I would have to embrace for that.

My love life is different.  I've dated men that stole, and did drugs, and loved getting drunk.  I've dated jealous men and men with tempers.  I know what an online affair feels like and I now know not to ignore that feeling when faced with it in real life. If you feel it in your gut, it's probably more true than you want to believe.  I've dated men that could convince me I was being a bad mom and partner by being who I am.  I can usually tell I'm being lied to when I'm doing something wrong by breathing.  As a single woman, I'm fairly confident. And I know right from wrong, often choosing the right thing, over the easy thing. My love life has taught me about breaking into cars, slanging crack, rolling Primos (crack needs to be cut on glass or a mirror so it doesn't fly off a wooden coffee table and you want to sprinkle it on the weed before you roll it like a pregnant lady - small on the ends and fat in the middle), gang life, hiding guns before they're sold, jealousy, insecurity (I can dance on eggshells, but I prefer a dance floor).  I can roll you into a recovery position to make sure you don't asphyxiate on your own vomit.  I know what it is to be the object of lust for a fuck boy and I know how to treat him just as callously.  It's not a gift.

I hope no woman ever has to learn what I know romance to be.  You should be learning what flowers make you feel special and deep conversations that make you feel things and think differently.  You should learn what will make him happy just as completely as he's learning about you and your desires.

It's the blending of real and fantasy that I want to learn.  I want to learn to expect nice surprises and hand holding.  I want to expect to be treasured and loved.  I want to expect that I'm not the only one that knows the right choice looks harder than the easy choice, but the right choice will help us sleep better at night. I want to expect more songs sent to me that hammer what we're both feeling into melodies and lyrics that call to the deepest parts of my soul.  I want to wake up in my lover's arms and feel him breathing under my hand as his heart paces happily against my cheek. I want to wake up to his smile and laughter and I want another morning of stolen kisses before duty calls and a feeling of happiness at those random texts throughout the day that drags on way too slowly until I can see him again.  I want his scent to linger on my skin and feel him with me when the memories are too sweet to entertain reality. I want this love to be a reality my kids see and learn from.  I want them to feel they have someone patient with them and understanding.  I want them to know I'm not the only one that sees them as normal human beings.  I have friends that tell me to raise my expectations as well as friends that tell me to lower them.  I'm just shooting blankly and hoping he'll be targeting me at the same time. And if he finds me, he will do all he can to hold onto me.

There's also a balance.  All things in life have a good and bad to their cost. I remember what it was like when my mom first brought my step dad around.  I hated the change he represented.  My boys also surprise me daily and they handle these changes better than I did. I'm learning to not give them my fearful limitations and to just see where we can go, stepping back where we need to.  I'm taking notice of the ways that I'm limiting my dreams and coaching myself to go get my life.

If you haven't heard it, I'm telling you now: Go get your life!  You are your only motivation and limitation.

It's about a career that I love and pays me enough to be happy doing it.

It's about going places to see and do and be that are not limited by constraints I've adapted from the expectations of others on my life. I don't have to stay local or a standard week or weekend.  I can go when it fits my needs and how it works best for me.

It's about a love that isn't set to a template of my past or a fantasy that is too unattainable to be mine because when I decide I can't have it, I will start sabotaging myself so I can't get it.

Meditate on your goals.  Focus your energies toward your success.  Plot and plan.

Dream big.  Reality will try to kick you down, and that just means you need to redirect your plans and goals. There's a life you get to live.  It's yours and no one else's.  You should handle it, so you don't become a slave to it.

Self Care Looks Like Being Present in the Moment

It's been a hectic holiday season filled with transitions and surprises.  It's been moments of laughter and shenanigans with my kids.  There have been moments of cooking that felt like comfort in textures and smells through the stress of life . . . I may have perfected my tamale and champurrado recipes.  And no, gluten free pate a choux isn't going to happen this season because wheat is what makes baked things so amazing and airy.  And yes, spiced rum makes everything better.  There have been moments where I felt like a treasured gift and someone has been begging Santa for me for years. It's been a little crazy in my mixed bag.

Planning

Sometimes planning is necessary.  In making tamales, you want to plan a day or two. On the first day, you want to prepare the meat by slow cooking tenderness and layering in flavors.  The meat and cooking liquid cool over night and the next day the masa is prepared and the tamales rolled.

Sometimes you want to plan a project. For example: re-upholstering dining chairs.  You want to make sure you have enough layers of batting and foam and fabric.  You want to make sure you have the nails and screws you'll need.  You'll want to plan it before you start because running out of something in the middle of the project can mean missing parts that you had ready but they just walked away ... at least with my boys.

Unplanned moments

If you're me, planning isn't as impulsive as I am. I often start projects that take turns and detours mid way through.  Every single blog post starts out one way and often makes a u-turn that surprises me.

Painting my living room will be one of those projects too. I did the other rooms in my house alone.  It was an exorcism of sorts.  I was purging memory demons of some sort.  I've re-painted every room in my home but the living room and it still has family pictures on the walls with my ex.  I told the kids they would come down when I painted and it's time to paint.  Everything will come down this week as I prepare with primer.  I still have it from the kitchen job and next week we'll finalize a color. New pictures will go up and the boys will see the old pictures are put away for them when they want them or if they want them in their room.

Dates that are willing to meet me on the spur of the moment get and keep my attention the longest.  I think so much of my life as a mother has to be planned and scripted that I find spontaneity so attractive.

Living in the Past

There has been sadness dressed in nostalgia for stolen moments that are no longer mine.  Those memories prompted New Year's text messages and I stole those moments to unburden a past so I can step into my future.  It's longing for what was and wondering what could have been in a way that feels stagnant and stunted, and yet, I'm still doing it. Still, my fear made me feel like I needed an excuse for a hello.  I get to take notice and step boldly into who I am and what I feel and next time just say hello because it's okay to miss the past as long as I don't decide to live there. And that's who I am.

In relationships, this often looks like fear to experience something new because of what I already know happened the last time.

Living in the Future

It's a gift for me to overthink every possible outcome.  It's also a curse.  I used to love lit candles all over my home.  I remember going out on a date once and in the prep stage of my full face spackle, I had lit every single candle I had. It was warm and cozy and it made me happy. It also very likely made me look psychotic.  Kids happened, and now I can see them playing in the wax, blowing out candles to light them again, and very nearly starting fires because it's the same shenanigans I got into as a kid. (Except I had an aerosol can of hairspray and they don't.) It's easy to get caught up in bills and deadlines and times to act and times to freak out.

In relationships, this looks like planning out a future and seeing where it will go before I offer the opportunity to see what might happen.  It means I can see how a person interacts with me and decide they are not step-dad material and move on before I get too attached.

Being Present is a Gift

When life becomes overwhelming, it's easy to freak out and think of the many ways something might happen, or change or create change in my life.  It's these moments I remind myself to slow down.  I remind myself to be present in my moment.  I do everything intentionally slowly and embrace the moment for what I'm presented with.

For a while this morning (no clocks exist in this moment) I was watching a couple of squirrels chase each other in a tree.

For a while, I sipped my coffee, tasting the brew, feeling the warmth, smelling the creamy sweet.  I didn't think about my list of things to do.  I didn't think of how I maybe should have made different choices this past year and I didn't even celebrate the great choices I did make.  I just smelled, and tasted, and felt my favorite mug holding my coffee.

I took a mid day shower and just let the hot water wash over my body while the smell and feel of floral bubbles washed off my skin and down the drain.  I had an old playlist playing and sang my heart out.  I laughed when I could hear my son outside the bathroom singing just as loudly with me, and without the emotional weight I was releasing.

I spent just a moment thinking of the last time I was in a man's arms and released it as I started anticipating the next time.  I won't script what I want to happen because that will only rob me from what I will actually get to experience. I'm learning how to be present in relationships.  I'm learning to enjoy each moment for what it is, without assigning a destiny I can't even control, and giving power to fears I refuse to voice.  I'm learning to plan my moments, and see where we can fit together, rather than assigning each of my free moments to his disposal.  And I'm learning that not every moment has to be perfect and that I can enjoy the present without even looking for finishing nails to finish off upholstery I may change my mind on.

The Pros of Online Dating

Online dating would look like it's a horrible idea if you rely solely on my blog, and yet,  I still do it.  Well, I'm off again, but that's another post one day. Truthfully, there has been a decent amount of personal growth for me through online dating.

Found my funny bone. 

Yes, I finally found the funny.  It can be entertaining to see what some men think is acceptable behavior.  I mean, just a suggestion, treat women like you would treat a co-worker until you meet in person and actually catch her vibe.  I mean, maybe she wants to be your fantasy, but it won't happen if you offend her first.  And it's a common request to get a selfie or two, but I'm going to assume you know your way around Instagram or Facebook enough to make me think you're looking for free porn in a picture.  After my last request, that duck lip pose I always thought was silly is never going to be as innocent and stupid as I thought it was.  Just don't ask for selfies.  Find them.  Stalk me in the way I want the world to.

There is value in meaningful communication.

Communication is best in person because there are nuanced microexpressions and body language you pick up on but don't give voice to.  This is why psychotherapy only works in person with an exception made for occasional phone calls.  Human interaction requires humans to interact.  The point of meeting online is to get offline.

Something that I struggled with is my old fashioned sensibilities that never translate.  I mean, if you know someone's sleeping patterns well enough to have no doubts when they'll be up, it's fine.  You are past that "getting to know you" phase.  I grew up knowing you don't call too early or too late.  I typically wouldn't call before 9 or 10 on weekends or after 10 at night, but that rule goes right out the window when you're grown folks on cell phones.  This is not a bonus for you when I'm a light sleeper with my phone on in case my kids need me (they sometimes call when they can't sleep at Dad's) and you're waking me up really late.  Those early morning texts, or late night (horny) texts annoy me more than endear me to you.

In the early days, I responded to every single solicitation for my attention.  It became exhausting, and taught me that I really am shallow and if I'm not attracted to a picture, the conversation really won't matter.  I started to ignore people.

Yes, I've ghosted a person.  I won't do it again.

At the end of one of my earliest relationships, I ghosted him.  We had a conversation that ended in a friendly way.  He was getting ready to fly out on a trip and we were making plans for when he returned home and I blocked him.  It was easier to be a chicken and not face my own feelings and just walk away. I didn't explain that I liked him more than I was comfortable with because I couldn't see a future with him in it.  I decided for us that we were done, repeating what was done to me in my marriage and ignoring the devastation I was inflicting, and knew too well.  I walked away, letting him figure out that I wasn't interested because I couldn't act like a grown ass woman and tell him.  A few months later, he called me from a number I didn't recognize and I answered his call.  That felt worse.  As much as I wanted to cover my cowardice in the audacity of his actions, I was wrong.  He's beautiful and tenacious, but he's not the one for me.  Owning up to that and talking to him was hard, but the better choice.  He's a really great guy.  Just not mine.

New friendships formed.

I have had a few meetings online that stayed online.  One man shared some of his secrets with me.  It wasn't in his secrets but the way they made him who he is today that helped me decide we weren't the right fit.   I've met a few of these.  Great pictures.  Interesting bios, but things weren't going to work out.  They make good friends and I even help out with their dating profiles and offer advice until they keep talking about wanting sex and I stop encouraging a conversation.  I was talking to him as a friend Wednesday night when I had accepted a date from someone else.  We're friends, and I'm not lying to anyone, so I told him about the date.  He told me not to overthink it and have fun.  I told him to get out of that self inflicted texting purgatory most dates eliminate themselves with.

I got home from the date feeling like it wasn't a right fit.  I was almost laughing at how badly the conversation went, taking ownership of the fact that I wasn't encouraging it at all and ignoring the fact that I was probably PMSing and he was suffering for it.

The next day, this same date was asking me out again, and another young man that had become a friend gave me a nudge.  He said I was too young and beautiful to not embrace having fun, and he pointed out that I made up my mind just like I had about his age (27 is too young).  He was right.  I went out with a determination to just have fun.  And I did.  He was right.

Too many choices and it was time to make one.

Online dating offers way too many options.  When I started my OKCupid profile last time, I received about a hundred likes a day.  That rate drops off after a while, and once it did, I received about 3 to 5 new emails a day.  Finding someone spontaneous enough to meet on my first kid free day was rare.  Especially if his first response wasn't "sex tonight." (No.  Just no.) This week alone, I was carrying on about 1o different conversations.  At one point it was 5 conversations at once.  I thought I couldn't multitask, but I'm learning.  I think I liked the challenge of that more than the men.

New Year, new me, right? Only, transformation is an intentional moment to moment process.  I get to notice what I'm doing and decide how I want to show up differently. I decided to let go of the men I knew I didn't want to keep around.  These were men that were texting and talking and keeping me company through my phone.  I realized it didn't matter who was my first good morning text, my last good night text, or the sexy random moments of thoughtfulness texts throughout my day.  If you are the person on my mind, even without your attention, then you are the person that matters and it was time to let go of the chaff and let the wheat fall and do terrible things to my belly.  I started responding to their greetings with letting them go.   Here, I lied.  Some men needed to hear it was me.  Some needed to hear it was someone else.  In this, I did my best to offer what they needed to hear, and only one was told it was because I didn't trust that he wasn't catfishing me.

Owning up to my choices because the right choice is rarely the easy one.

Letting a man know you're letting him go can be a mixed bag.  There are the ones that move on easily.  Those made me wonder if I should have held on because of his strength or if I ever mattered because of his nonchalance.  Curiosity is not a change of heart. There are those willing to fight for me.  They beg and plead and make me feel bad that I didn't want to share a relationship with the same intensity that they were after.  Then there are some I'm happy to keep in friendship because that was the natural progression we were heading toward anyway. When you have 8 or 9 men offering you their attention but not their physical presence, you take it for granted that these are people, but I never really considered that these superficial interactions meant something to them.

I've told you, I'm not always nice, right?

Online Dating and Younger Men: Cougar Madness

I'm comfortable with dating older men.  I love the softer look of salt and pepper hair, with gentle laugh lines around their eyes.  I don't mind hairlines that step back or heads that are bald.  It's a look I love.  I love natural hair.  Younger men are all about manscaping and I just don't get it. Unfortunately, most of the men my age that I meet online think I'm much younger, because in reality, for a lot of men my age, I'm just too old for them.

I'm often approached by younger men.  Men that are about 20 or 22 accept that I don't date younger men.  They accept my answer and move on.  There are plenty of other women that would love the attention.

Christmas night I was hit with the realization that I wasn't fully embracing the celebration.  I was sober all of Thanksgiving.  I'm not much of a drinker.  I was sober with my sister while making tamales in Torrance on Friday.  I was sober Saturday with family while I was driving my kids around.  Sunday I was primarily sober.  I went to a friend's house and had a Smirnoff Ice with dinner, because I was driving home and I love my car.  Sunday night, I decided to have that Hot Buttered Rum I kept putting off.  I was sipping, crocheting a blanket and swiping on dating apps.  It sounds pathetic, but I was in a really happy place.  I had forgotten how much I loved making blankets and scarves until I watched my sister knitting beautiful blankets on Friday.  (I'm telling her she should sell them.  Wait for that shameless plug if she ever decides to.)

Sunday night there was a man 10 years my junior that wouldn't accept my no.  After 25, they get a little ballsy.  They know what they want and understand persistence.  We talked a bit.

The next morning I was waiting for my ex to call to tell me to come get the boys.  I told him I'd come when the kids were up.  This 28 year old said good morning and asked me to join him for coffee.  I agreed.  Just like that. We met in Pasadena and ended up talking up until I got a call saying it was time to get my kids.  His cappuccino was gone and my blonde roast coffee was cold.

On Friday when I met someone else for coffee, we talked about life, work, careers, and divorce.  It's something we both knew too much about.  We talked about Landmark and MITT.  We laughed and I really enjoyed his company.  We parted with a hug and I knew I would probably never see him again. There wasn't a spark or even a longing for more than a hug.

Monday morning I arrived first and was surprised to see us driving the same car when he pulled in.  He paid for my coffee and our conversation kept drifting in all sorts of ways through life, careers, and world travel.  He comes from the middle east and he's making the American Dream his, while caring for his parents.  For just long enough, I was able to ignore the math when thinking about how old he was when I gave birth to my firstborn 15 years ago.  I was able to ignore how creepy that felt.  We parted ways and I felt like I might be open to another date.

As the day became night and into today, the conversation is still flowing and I keep getting this instinctual gut punch that says no.  I'm still swiping and there is another man that is coming out to LA from the east coast at the end of the month.  I can already tell I'll never meet him, but I can enjoy this for what it is.  He's 27.  He has the emotional depth that I outgrew many years ago.

Both of them stand out from older men already.  It's not the looks.  They're handsome, but so are older men.  They're sexual, and interested, but so are older men.  What sets them apart is how much I can't connect with them.  I'm a straight shooter.  They reciprocate that.  They are looking to race into something and define it quickly.  They are trying to nail down my commitment to their superficial needs.  They want it physical and don't know how to slow down from the need that drives them.  They want to see if we'll be friends, and do I expect more of a relationship.  No matter how much I try to explain it, I can't quite get them to understand that no woman wants to be treated like a discount hooker.

You get older and it's more than physical needs. Both men and women need someone that understands and connects intellectually and emotionally.  One night of fun is one thing, but the person they want to share their mornings with needs to understand and support them and the younger men don't seem to know how to be comfortable in exploring their passions outside of bed with me. The road map I follow means we linger for a long while in an intellectual bliss before I'm ready to move on from there.  I know what I'm capable of and it's not a theory I need to test out at every opportunity.

Unfortunately, this same need in older men means they want to hold me down and claim me as a wife before we've ever met in person. That feels just as crazy and bad.  The older men are looking for a partner.  They understand when I need to step away to be a mother.  That might also just be the men.  I spent Christmas night with three grown men that were very hands on with their children and other's children in a way that I needed to see.  It was so healing and hopeful to see these men feed and put those babies to sleep.  They parented their children and were willing to be chased and tickle, and horseplay.  It was far from the childhood my boys had and I went home so moved.  Maybe slightly tearful.  I get to find that one day.

The younger men don't understand and their impatience stands out.  They ask if I like games like truth or dare, or if I would play video games with them. They don't understand when I explain I don't watch a lot of television or movies because I grew up with far less screen time than they did.  I don't get bored without a television or movie on.  I can be content with a pen and paper or yarn and a crochet hook.  Or a book.  Those things build, rock and destroy worlds inside of them.

I'm reminding myself to not think of the age difference because it creeps me out, and I'm trying to be patient through the parts that aren't right to enjoy how it feels to be so irresistible to these younger men.  They don't mind the softer look of a mother's body and I keep hearing that my mothering is what makes me hot. I'm trying to let that land. Trying.  I don't think it's about age, but I often come across men that feel all they have to offer is sexual or financial in nature when all I want is a deep and meaningful conversation.  That's a gift of humanity so many feel they can't take ownership of. And yet, we're all just humans.

New Traditions After Divorce

It is a great Christmas to be me.  I'm really giving myself to the holidays as a single mom on my terms. When we hashed out custody, I was intentional with wanting Christmas Eve with my boys.  My family always celebrates Christmas Eve and I was able to start my celebrations with a first date at Catalina Coffee Company yesterday morning (beautiful blue eyes, amazing conversation, couldn't look away from his dimples, didn't feel an ounce of chemistry, great venue). I then enjoyed most of yesterday with one sister over several hours of making tamales yesterday. This morning  was alone with my boys at breakfast.  We had our private gift opening at home and then I enjoyed a day with my kids and ginormous family.  Right now I get to have a really appreciated quiet night alone.  (Although that hot buttered rum is calling me.) Tomorrow my adventures will continue with more family and friends. I started my day with my boys at a Denny's Christmas breakfast.  I hated making breakfast first thing in the morning.  I was never hungry and the kids were always picky.  I got to eat later in the morning, and I wasn't the short order cook.  I don't remember last year, but this year has been great. I explained to my boys the thoughts my last post inspired for me.  I explained that in asking what they want for Christmas and focusing only on that, I was teaching them to be takers without bothering to show them the joys of giving.  It was a stretch for me but I asked them if they wanted to go get a present for their Dad for Christmas.  The little one immediately said no.  The oldest said he was planning to draw him a picture, and my middle son hesitated the longest before saying no.  Maybe it was strange to imagine me footing the bill for him.  I then asked if they wanted to pick out a gift for their Grandparents and they were excited about that.

We walked around the CVS after expressing gratitude that we weren't at Target when we drove by the Target parking lot on Christmas Eve. (We're working on finding gratitude in everything.) The boys picked out house shoes for their Grandpa, and a blanket for their Grandma.  They wanted something to keep them warm and comfortable.  We wrapped it and when we arrived at Grandma's house, for the first time they gave their grandparents a gift they picked out themselves.  It wasn't something I picked.  It was something they chose and they got to experience the gratitude of their grandparents.  The look on my children's face was all I needed in that moment.

I see where my children are growing and where I need to continue to guide them in so many ways and today was a humbling and encouraging lesson for me.  But it was a day of shifting traditions and seeing how it's about learning and growing as a family.

Not only have I been teaching my boys to be takers, I was teaching them to live in scarcity, and keeping them from dreaming big.  My older two had modest wish lists.  My little one wanted a trampoline, but that was the most out of the box gift they came up with. Later in the day, Kid3 expressed wanting a Nintendo 3DS.  In the past that meant waiting for the next holiday or birthday.  I explained that I always want to give my kids what they want and we don't have to wait for a holiday or for him to deserve it.  We just had to wait for when I could do it, but it would go on the whiteboard at home as a goal.  What I didn't expect was that in my daily examples, I was teaching my oldest to be a martyr.

After breakfast and picking up their grandparent's gifts, they came in the house and I told them they could open their presents.  In the past, it was always structured.  One present at a time, with all of us watching.  It always bothered me because it was a show of "look what I got you and show me you like it." It shifted.  It wasn't about the individual gifts but the overall feeling of getting them what they wanted and letting them know I listened to what they wanted and noticed the things they didn't say. Today I told them to have at it.  They had the freedom to open their presents with their names on them and I stood back and enjoyed their excitement.  They were happy.  I exceeded their expectations.  Then they asked if I could get a duplicate for their Dad's house.  I said we could wait until they're back with me and see if they still need what they want.

At one point, Kid2 was fully hit with FOMO (fear of missing out) and wanted a game his brother asked for.  He raged.  He searched for a different game he lost a while back and he was in complete break down.  I had him come to me and I held him as he cried.  He sobbed.  He screamed.  Kid1 had started looking for the game on behalf of his brother and he decided to do all he could to support his brother . . . Including giving his brother the game I had just given him for Christmas in exchange for $10.  He later threw in his gummy bears as well (his absolute favorite candy). He sacrificed his joy for his brother.

Wow. I mean, this kid!  He's mine.  He gets my good and my bad, and surprises me with things I didn't know were possible.  I gave him a Christmas hug in parting and had him look me in the eye. I told him he doesn't have to sacrifice himself because he matters.  I told him he can't be a world changer if there's nothing of him left to change the world.  Now I get to live that to give him that example.

Toward the end of the night, I got feedback that makes me want to address a couple of things.  I should clarify that the dates that look too good to be true are catfish, but there are really great men that are real.  Good morning, good night, and surprise sexy texts are a reality.  It's super rare that I want to meet in person.  He has to be really special to get my time. If you don't like what I write, you don't have to follow or read it.  It's a choice.  Stand by it or find a hobby.

The part that bothered me was it was suggested I was doing Christmas wrong because I was stepping away from a tradition I adopted but never called my own.  It made me doubt our celebrations long enough to ask my kids if they were happy.  They let me know they had a great day.  They had fun with our family.  The younger two even suggested wanting to go home with me and I melted at the hugs from Kid1. My sisters were a bit surprised at how much my Kid1 has grown.  Our day showed me my next goal and tonight I am having the evening I used to enjoy.  There might be a bit of booze. There will be some yarn work and maybe some reading.  I won't be up all night setting the tree to look a certain way.  I didn't have to bake cookies for Santa.  I love the life I get to live!

I didn't have a traditional Christmas before I got married. We always gathered for Christmas and I think Christmas Eve became our tradition shifting in favor of our growing family.  We gather Christmas Eve and on Christmas Day we get to have our children and in-laws.  This year we had tri-tip, tamales, coleslaw, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, fresh fruit and veggies, and desserts.  Thai noodle soup was the highlight of my night.  It is a throwing together of our huge family and our smaller families.  At some point my brother started throwing dollar bills out for the kids in a "make it rain" dance they love.  It's chaos, but it's family. It's my family.  Our traditions shift and grow, as do we, and I get to make this celebration my own in all of the best ways.

There was a terrific balance of my wants and my kids wants.  There is a give and take where we do what we like, and no one is forced into more than we want.  We went to Grandma's house for me, and my introvert got to decide when we were done and leaving. My inner ambivert was happy with his timing. There was time with my family and time alone.  There will be space for friends and I'm shooting for solo explorations as well.  I don't have to cook foods I won't eat or feel like I have to do things I really don't want to. This new life feels like freedom and it tastes like I want more.

Teaching My Child To Give

In my flustered push and pull through getting Christmas together for my kids, I was trying to see if I missed anything from my kid's wish lists.  We were in the car and I asked my boys if there was anything else they wanted that they didn't tell me about.  They're getting better at telling me what they want.  For a while they were afraid to want anything.  At some point I made them feel like wanting things was a negative feeling.  At some point I taught them to function and live in scarcity, and I get to teach them to live abundantly as I learn it myself. My oldest son looked timidly at me, then tried to tuck himself away shyly into his hands and shirt.  My 15 year old reminded me of a turtle.  I could see his fear and uncertainty, so I encouraged him to talk to me.  He told me about a friend of his that wasn't expecting much for Christmas.  My son understood that his friend was living on very little income and he understood that because it has been our reality.  He asked if he could buy his friend a $40 game and pulled a little wad of cash out of his wallet to show me he needed my support.  I've been trying to teach them that they don't need help.  They don't need me to rescue them.  They could use my support though and I'm happy to offer it.  They can be supported through their journeys, and here he was, putting that lesson to work.  I asked what he was willing to do if I had said no.  He said he was prepared to ask his friends if they would work together.  I mean seriously? I get to raise this kid.  I get to be this young man's mother.  That night we went to two Walmart's and a Target.  We also survived Kid3's meltdown.

We got home and with my support, he wrapped it himself.  Then I had a moment of fear and it became a lesson for my son, and a lesson to me.  My lesson was how my past so strongly influences my future.  For me to worry about a reaction I had received and given . . . my hang ups on gifts . . . I get to look at that.  I get to examine and change things.

In talking to my son, I realized my fear was about the many times I had given or received a gift and the emotions that go with that. It was about the times I received a gift that wasn't what I would have wanted, but something the giver would have wanted, without any thought to who I am.  It's more honest than polite people would ever admit.

I wasn't always great at gift receiving.  Especially when it came to my Dad.  I was never satisfied with what he offered. He's given me jewelry, and it was always large and not something I would ever choose to wear.  I would accept it and complain later.  I once asked for a keyboard so I could learn to play the piano.  It came several years later, and in my teenage selfishness, I couldn't appreciate it until my ex gave it to one of his friends. Now I remember that not every Dad is around or generous, or half the man my Dad is.  His gifts are treasured.

When my boys were young, I would try to find gifts for them, and they would be more interested in the box, or smearing peanut butter and yogurt on walls, because sensory integration dysfunction is an adventure that way.

I remember one Mother's Day I was so upset that I didn't receive what I wanted.  It was a few years in a row of receiving less or other than I hoped for.  Honestly, I would have loved a solo hotel stay with a full Kindle and room service. I was very vocal about it too. But I was in my mood and pretty angry at my ex.  This was about seven or eight years into my marriage.  I remember being able to count off the ways I was disappointed until the day my son handed me a gift he made for me.  That was when I realized receiving a gift was about how much I could show the giver their thoughtfulness was appreciated and I really didn't have to be so selfish.

So back to my really considerate son . . . Here he was, about to gift a present to a friend and I worried about his friend's pride in terms of the gift.  I worried about it being something that wasn't wanted, and I worried that my son's generosity would become a source of pain for him. I will always want to protect him.

I told him to think of giving as the gift he was offering.  He told me about a game he had given to his brother that was lost and how angry he was.  I pointed out that once you give a gift, you stop worrying about what they'll do with it.  You give a gift as an act of love.  You don't worry about how it would be used or if it would be immediately discarded.

It's too much to expect a gift to live the way you want it to and the greatest example is the life of a child.  I gave the world my kids and it's hard to accept the world might abuse my children and it's hard to accept that my kids won't always behave the way I want them to. I get to send them out after caring for them the best way I know how, and I get to hope there is enough love to cover them.

As I explained to my son, giving is about giving and not how it's received.  Once we give a gift, we don't worry about how it's received or what is done with it.  We find our joy in thinking of someone else. We think of how much they'll like the gift because we're not giving what we would want, but what they would appreciate and find useful.  However it's received doesn't matter as much as the love we put into giving it.

Then I told him to consider how much joy he found in thinking of his friend.  I told him to think of that and consider how much others enjoy giving to him.  I told him to accept gifts with that same feeling because of how great it feels to give.  We would want others to experience our joy in receiving.

New Year's Resolution 2017!

I never make New Year's Resolutions, but this is the year I will start.  It's about continuing intentionally through my lifelong transformation.  It's about finding my gift receipt and returning what I don't need. It's been an eye opening few weeks.  I've been trying to be intentional in my self care.  It doesn't always go well.  But I'm trying.  In the last few weeks at work and life jumping up to surprise me in creative and nasty ways, I have let my situation control how I feel and that is not something I want to do with my life.  In the last month or so, both my Dad and Step Dad have been hospitalized. I've noticed their choices and have been able to see something that made parts of myself fall into place and I'm shocked.

My early 70 something year old Dad was hospitalized a few days one week, got released, went to Vegas and came home, then ended up hospitalized again on something unrelated in the very next day.  He's now planning an exercise regimen from his hospital bed.

My late 70 something year old Step Dad was hospitalized, nearly lost his life, then took the family to Knott's Berry Farm within days of being released. Seriously.

I had Kid3 in 2006 and within a couple of weeks, spent a weekend walking around Sea World because my ex wanted to take the family.

Less than a month after being hospitalized a month, and having a c-section to deliver surrogate twins in 2012, I was walking around Legoland. I remember being in pain, still leaking from birth, and being miserable even while on serious pain meds both times.

What I did was for the sake of family, but it goes deeper.  I live on a property that has two houses on one lot.  For a while, my sister that is slowly going blind lived right behind my house.  I decided on the day after Christmas, I would put exterior lights up outside to help her see at night because the walkway between houses could be dark.  I climbed up a ladder and strung those lights up without someone to hand me lights, or hold the ladder while my ex stayed in bed watching something on television.

No sense of self preservation, right? No sense of self care or asking for help or suggesting that maybe, space and time to heal and recover would be a great idea.

For the first time in years, I have a New Year's Resolution.  Self care will be a priority.  I won't allow work, or family, or obligations to weigh so heavily on me that they control my ability to breathe in peace and feel restored by sunlight. I won't get so angry that I indulge in road ragey moments of yelling at people that can't hear me and probably have no idea I'm irked.  I will be in control of how I react and that means I will care for myself like I love myself because I do.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 9

The day I was expecting has finally arrived! I don't need to feel like a cold harpy that couldn't give a poor romantic the benefit of the doubt.  The man that has been trying to keep my attention has finally gotten to the point, and here I go, trolling my catfish. Naughty Bloggess, I know. Someone should consider spanking me. Assuming I'm not creeped out . . . And I'm interested in his conversation . . . And dinner should happen.  Okay, maybe we should skip the spanking.  Apparently I'm asking for way too much.

I thought the request would involve his phone.  The phone was what he kept complaining about, even though the flight home was something we talked about.  I just assumed he would say he didn't have enough notice for the flight but he surprised me.

I could understand an account being frozen, but a damaged card still has usable numbers you can read or type into a website.  He's a New Yorker/Californian/World Traveller, and he should know this. Right?

And if you can recall (I can), this job already paid him half of what he was expecting to get paid for the completion of the job.  Is it possible that with that kind of a payout on a job he flew to Brazil for with a team of about 10 . . . No one else could help him?

I offer a way out when I can. They never take it. The big request was almost anti-climactic, but this is where I start trolling him and I really have fun with it.  Because I'm not always a nice person, right?

If I were a nice person, I would just tell him the reality of what I'm doing on my blog.  But is that really a nice thing to do? To tell them we were playing a partnered game? I wouldn't take out a loan for myself if I can avoid it because I think of the reality of paying it back.  If you can't take out a loan at a bank, why should I trust you with my money.  People work at banks and get paid big bucks to make prudent decisions.  I should trust their lead, right?

Yesterday there were a few texts without his odd typos.  It's like he forgot what he was supposed to be doing.  Commitment to your lies helps sell the story.  Me for example . . .

I am intentionally making myself into a very plump and delicious whale. Maybe I can drag this one out for another 9 days.  Not that I want to bore you with my shenanigans.  I just want to frustrate him. My Kid1 intends to send me the "dankest memes" so I can send those as my send off.  We've connected over our web shenanigans.

So it's now day 10, and he's been checking in with me more often and trying to see how I'm coming along with his request.  The point of this blog series was to tell you what to look for, so I won't bother giving you the details of my debauchery and lies unless you really want them.

My reality is I've been catfished more often than I want to be.  I don't bother sharing their pictures or other details because I'm sure most of them are fake.  There's probably some innocent person out there that gives great massages, loves to cuddle and visit museums and has a really large brain and he has no idea his pictures are being used for someone's income stream.

I had a job interview for a pharmaceutical company that wanted me to interview through Google Hangouts.  That was the first red flag.  Asking my sex, age, marital status and other illegal details was another.  They asked where I banked to see if they could set up direct deposit.

I met another man Saturday just after I lost my job.  He's been offering to send me money.  He's been asking for my checking account and routing numbers but doesn't understand why I won't trust him.  He almost seemed angry at my mistrust and gave many excuses as to why he can't use Western Union, Paypal, Venmo or the Go Fund Me pages I set up when I was trying to take my leadership classes.

We reveal so much in passive conversation.  How old are you? I just had my birthday, when is yours?  Where do you live? Are we close? Are you still married?

No one needs to know where you bank or private details like your bank account.

A birth date can be used for verification.

No one needs your social security number unless they are reporting to the government.

You don't need to lend money to a person that not even a bank would trust.  Seriously. Don't take my word for it.  My kids collaborated so I could test their internet savvy.

According to Kid1:

You don't give out your address, your age, social security number, credit card information, zip code, and never post a picture of your face in your profile. Use a fake name and fake age (because he's not old enough to have a YouTube). Rule 34, if it exists, there's a porn of it, don't test it. Many of my friends have tested it.  I am unfortunately one of those people that tested it. People are very weird.  And there are many places you don't go on the internet like 8Chan, 2Chan, 4Chan.  They're all full of edgy people. They will find your internet IP and home address.  Just don't go.

According to Kid2:

Don't give out your info. No info at all, except my Nintendo friend code.

Kid3: Not your middle or last name.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 8

The weight of my reality gave way to the fact that I overthink everything and I'm really great at that.  And then my catfish was back to his normal  by late evening and it was easier to see clearly.

His typing errors made me believe he was just going to ask for a new phone.

Poor thing fell and hurt his phone.

It amazes me that he would seriously wait days until Christmas to try to book a flight.  There are movies made about those kinds of shenanigans.

I was thinking he was full of it, but clearly I am too, so I said he was sweet instead.

It would have been vengeance worthy if he had asked me to set my kids up for his fall too.  Seriously, who does this kind of thing?

At this point there was genuine suspense.  Was he going to try to show up? Was this part of his game?

What was the laugh? Was it that I wanted to analyze what he said? Was it about the fact that I could find a way to relate to his lies?

And there goes that phone again. Maybe he should do something about it.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 7 & Day 8

Day 6 started with me finding out I don't have my job anymore, but I'm fishing for a catfish so I wasn't going to let him know. Day 7 I met a friend and another friend of hers for brunch so we could brainstorm ideas and discuss my career direction. I also needed the connection and support.  I told them about my latest catfish and one of the women at our table told me about the one that forced her off all sites for good. Her situation required a police report. Yikes!

I was still in shock from some of the many turns my life is taking right now, but still super confident that this man talking to me is only lying to me.  He was very missing throughout the day, reaching out to say he missed me and loved me and wanted to leave Brazil and come home to me.

Of course he encourages the clinginess.  That's how he knows I would do anything for him.

I was amused by this exchange because nothing can come between us, but his being right back waited several hours.  I was busy, so it wasn't a big deal.

Day 8 came and I was going through the stages we go through when faced with change in our lives.  Call it grief.  Call it disappointment.  It was stages of exhaustion, frustration, disappointment, and hope.  And in my abnormal weakness, his words penetrated in a way that was unexpected.  I'll spare you the screenshots.

 Promises of love

The reason I am writing this today is because I can’t stop thinking about you, and I can’t stop myself from imagining how happy we will be. Let this be a promise to you that I will do my best to be the man I want to be for you. I may not yet know all of the difficulties that come with a lifetime commitment, but I have enough relationship experience to know what I want and how I picture my life with the person I will commit to and that is you Yessica. I promise to do my best to make you beam daily, so count on many surprises. Your smile will be my priority. I get weak knees when anybody smiles, so just imagine the effort I will make to be the source of yours. I promise I will always look at you with the same adoration as I did the moment I realized I loved you. I promise to try to ignite the same sparkle in your eyes I see when you’re surprised, inspired, motivated or when you are about to lean in to kiss me. I promise to hold your hand when we’re 80 years old with the same liveliness that I did when I crossed that line to hold yours for the first time. I vow never to let the excitement of dating me die down; I will surprise you with the location, the reason or the activity itself. I promise to keep you guessing where we’re going next. I promise to do my best always to interest you. I will keep reinventing myself, gaining new hobbies, new knowledge and new interests to keep you and myself entertained. I promise to kiss you throughout our life do my best to remain physically attractive for you, and I will do my best to be healthy in order to keep up with our kids someone has got to teach them Muay Thai kickboxing..lol...I’ll train you, too; I want you to know how to fight and defend yourself, just don’t use it against me. Lol I promise to help you to be healthy, both physically and mentally. I will cook and clean for us. Expect the best breakfast: traditional Armenian tomato and pepper omelets, followed by fruit salad with… well, I can’t give all the secrets out. I promise to strive to be a role model for our children. I want both you and them to see me as a source of motivation. I want to inspire them in the same way that my father inspires me.I promise to do my best to love your family as you love them and to be by their side as much as I am by yours. I promise to always listen to you when you simply just want to be heard; when you want someone to vent to about something or when you want advice. I will listen to you especially when you don’t feel comfortable sharing your thoughts with anybody else, and to the things you try to tell me when you’re not even speaking. I promise to always listen. During our life together, I promise to make sure that you feel as though you are the center of the household — I know you will be — and I will always try to show my appreciation for you because of that. I promise never to let my guard down in taking care of us. I know you won’t be one to be satisfied with the bare minimum. I promise to do everything that I can for you without taking away from your independence physically, intellectually or emotionally. I promise to create family traditions and to make sure that your legacy lives forever through our children. I promise to encapsulate the moment when I realize that I am in the most magnetic, amorous and erotic love with you, not to let that feeling dissipate to the best of my ability and to relive it with you constantly, always.....I love you Yessica Please don't break my heart!!!

And this is where the doubt creeps in. When I got through this I felt a lump in my throat and my mouth went dry.  My heart was beating against my rib cage in a rabitted race. I couldn't form the words to engage with my son. I couldn't move because my body was holding me in the moment that called out to my soul. How could he speak so intimately to the many desires of my heart I never knew I could yearn for?  In the hours following, I felt so conflicted.  So much of my right now is up in the air and all that falls around me is the loss of anomie, and he's here, saying he'll be the anchor I need.  I had to go back and actually read what I had written since he became the subject of my blog posts. I had to remember that it's only been 8 days and this is not normal.  This is not okay.  But I didn't feel anger.  I felt gratitude.  He offered words that invoked feelings I thought were dead.  I thought that part of me had been broken and the times I feel a fluttering, I can only feel gratitude.

I wondered if what I'm doing is wrong.  I wondered if it's possible that he's a genuine man that really did fall in love with my smile and maybe he really did picture a forever.  It would have had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fantasy in his head of me, but what if he's being honest? What if he really is drawn to me?  What if my blog is going to strike again as the destroyer of relationships? It has happened. It will happen. I hope to find a love that doesn't care what I write.

Then I remember that my feelings and thoughts are valid.  I remember that he really hasn't convinced me that I want more kids, and if he's genuine about what he says, he wants a child and I couldn't at this point offer that.  I have only been talking to him for 8 days.  I've never seen him in person and I've never heard his voice. This isn't a relationship but an illusion.

And then I wonder what it would be like if I wasn't who I am? What if I was the girl I was out of highschool? What if I had my past insecurities? What if I needed to hear what he was selling because I couldn't see the ways in which I am amazing. Briefly the thought of other women occurs to me.  What about these women that need to hear these things more than I do today? What about the women that would spend thousands on keeping a man happy to keep his affection.  I want to be angry and rage, but I can't.  In this moment, I let his words wash over me, and pretend for a few more moments that I have no doubts.  I pretend for a bit that we are the picture of love he's been painting and I indulge in a fantasy because my boys are yelling and his fantasy is so much better than my present reality. And I ignore the fact that aside from tomorrow night and Christmas Eve and some friends that are welcoming me on Christmas Day, lost in his fantasy, I will still be alone.  He hasn't solved the problem I had in going online to find a date.  I still don't have a date, even if he promises to be here Christmas Eve to be with me. And it occurs to me that I have nothing to wear because there's enough doubt that I wonder if he will show up.

Waiting on My Miracle Between Jobs

Everything in life happens exactly as it's supposed to in the time and manner that it is meant to happen in. A couple of weeks back, the person taking the company reigns had a town hall meeting.  He encouraged discourse and I asked about the temps.  I asked what was going to be done for the many people that they had invested training in, that they were losing in a company exodus to other companies.  His answer inspired hope, and I emailed my gratitude, and then applied for an open position that I never heard back from.

Fast forward to Thursday when I sat alone at a table during the holiday party.  I was joined by strangers in Sales that told me about a position they were looking to fill.  I was asked for my email, and typed in my work email address, with anticipation and excitement.

Work resumed Friday and I plugged through, with my Dad's heart surgery on my mind.  Saturday afternoon, I received a catalyzing call.  My contract was terminated and the Friday I had worked was my last shift.  My things would be boxed for me to pick up from the agency.  I would turn in my badge, and I was asked to not contact the company.

I made friends and met people I really respected, and a farewell isn't a courtesy I can offer in my gratitude.  I only hope showing up authentically was something I did consistently, and that they saw my love and admiration in our interactions.

It's not even two weeks until Christmas.  I'm a single mom that doesn't get help from my kid's Dad.  I get to figure this out.

My first step was to apply for unemployment.

The next was to reach out to friends that may know of an opportunity.

The step after that was to start searching for a job.

The one that came next was to realize the gravity of the gift that I've been handed.

I spent the last few months at a company that paid me like they didn't care to keep me.  I had been passively looking for a better opportunity.  My kids are about to be on vacation from school.  My Dad will need more support since he had surgery, and I will be okay because everything happens the way it's supposed to at the perfect time for it to.  I will need to be available.  Unemployment won't cover all of my needs but it will do enough that I will be okay.  And I get to expect to receive better than I had accepted.

I felt gratitude for spending months around people I genuinely liked and powerful business women I admired.  I had a moment of quiet reflection on the men that worked there that gave me pleasant moments of eye candy admiration.  I may even miss those moments of turning a corner to almost crash into Mr. Insanely Tall and Beautiful.  (Really, a girl can't always handle that much hotness on such short notice.) I felt a little sad that I never told him that his fan club prefers it when he doesn't shave his face so cleanly.  I appreciated the fact that while it was normal to walk in on someone crying in the bathroom from the stress, it was never me.  I genuinely loved what I did and that's not something everyone can say.

Day 3 Dawns early with getting my older two off to school.  I get back in bed to snuggle my youngest and breathe in the soft smell of the tear free shampoo we still use.  Waves of anxiety and peace wash over me and the result is an exhaustion that settles over me throughout the day.

I don't have a job.  My Dad just had heart surgery.  My artistic/autistic son wants me to spend about $200 on 24 gray Copic markers and I choose to do whatever it takes because I want to support his dreams.  Existence is exhausting.

I finally finished decorating my tree and pulling out my little Lemax Christmas village.  I've already unwrapped that latest present to myself.  I clear away the tiny snails and algae that was stopping the flow of water in my pond, and I look at the rose bush that hasn't had the pruning or deadheading I was planning in the spring, but also neglected this fall.  And then there was the sunset.  I worked through the season change in a room without windows to easily look out of, and I was only catching sunset with intention on the weekends.  Today when puttering around the house I've neglected for work, I was caught off guard by the sun setting in the west toward Dodger's Stadium. I stood still and felt my chest rise and fall with my breathing.  I watched the sky shift from yellow to orange and red, then inky blue.  I straightened my posture and the feel of it reminded me that in the last few weeks, I had been slouching again.

I loved what I did, but I was often working through meals and rushing along hallways.  I wasn't stepping in the authority of who I am, but lost to the movements of a zombie with too much thought in my head to intentionally engage outside of myself. That's not how I want to live and it's only now that I'm not, that I can see how I was.

Job hunting has resumed.  I am taking it on like a job, and soon I'll be back to applying from my phone at the beach or on a trail, or in a museum. Throughout the day I was clenching my fist, to then look at my open palm.  It reminded me that I can't receive when I refuse to let go, and holding onto nothing only left crescent shaped nail marks in my palm.  You receive nothing new by holding on.  You cause more pain in refusing to release.  I held my palm up, as if waiting to receive. And I expect to find that miracle.  There aren't any other options.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 6

We get past the good morning texts. The I love you texts.  The I miss you texts.  The what have you eaten and tell me about work texts.  Then we get to the other ways he wants to make his way into my family and life.

He wants to meet my family, and be part of my children's lives.  He plans to meet them when he's back on Christmas Eve.  We pretend jet lag doesn't matter.

Forever is a really long commitment based on a week of communication by text.  I mean, he has no clue if I have halitosis or kill kittens for fun.  Whatever.  In for a penny, you suffer my pound, right? Speaking of, my pictures are all me, but the un-angled real shots are the group ones where I don't have a mirror to preen into.  You see my soft jiggly marshmallow fluff in those.  That's authentic.  But he's only seen my selfies.

I don't remember, but I also don't remember when those details were something I would want to share with someone I just met.  The idea that sex would make me feel like a woman is disrespectful to the boobs that sweat for me, the period cramps that can cripple me and body that has birthed 7 babies.  I don't need a man to make me feel like a woman.  I have a whole body for that.

I like to do these things alone, but I think in general, the point of dating is to discover what you'd like to do together.  Latching onto the idea of the museum we briefly spoke about on the other side of the country with my kids is not my idea of a good time.  My boys hate the idea of leaving the house for a grocery run.  I am not dragging them across country for anything less than a marriage, and even then, I'm not excited about having that letter, talk, and exchange with the ex to be able to do it. Take me to the Huntington Library.  It's on my list and local.

Ever . . . Recently . . . He's inspired a few blog posts.  It's usually only really special men that get my attention and hold it for a while that get to do that.

He wants to prove his love by marrying me, but accidentally called me and couldn't handle that conversation.

A blessing that he couldn't talk to for free, through Google.  Yeah.  The special feelings are coming at me from everywhere.  It feels like a tingle that raises the hair on the back of my neck.

He wants to marry me? I'm not big on shopping for clothes, but I can do some serious damage on an Amazon account, and I should have looked into stock options for Target considering how many vacations I've funded for those shareholders.

Support my blog! Get me more followers and hits.  Oh wait.  He's so supportive.

I think a two week anniversary of when we first started chatting on Okcupid is the perfect time to shop for engagement rings.  Let's cherish our forever based on two weeks of the deep conversations we never have!  He's a keeper.  Totally.

How I am My Father's Daughter

Yesterday I was walking past a Dad with his children.  They were taking turns and jumping onto and swinging from his forearms like he was a living jungle gym.  There was laughter and love and a gentle reprimand to one of his other children to not run through the halls because we were in a building that isn't really a playground.  In that moment I felt so much tenderness for a person I have never met. He reminded me of my Dad and the times I could run at him like he could take all I could dish.  I thought of the times I was on all fours with my children on my back and wrestling with them the way my Dad used to do with me. I walked away remembering the times I would spar with my Dad and he would teach me to block a punch and his love for "tiger claw," which was fierce with his long talon like nails. I remember as a little girl, sitting on the toilet seat and watching my Dad shave his face.  He used to have a mug with soap in it, and use a brush to lather the soap up and slather it on his face.  He would stretch and pull his face in different ways to get a clean shave and I would watch every time.  He would rub Aqua Velva or Old Spice between his hands then slap and smear it on his face and neck.  Then I'd watch him button up his shirt and wrap and tie his tie around his neck.

As I've gotten older, the ideal Dad I imagined gave way to the one I have.  I stopped trying to place the image in my head on top of him.  I realised he has always done what he felt was best for us and he's always shown love, even if it wasn't in the ways I wanted him to. It was my need to put a premium on the love I gave that dictated the value I saw in what I received.  That sounds vague.

I have learned that the ways in which I saw my Dad as not what I wanted are the ways in which his PTSD have shown up as he's struggled with it my whole life and I could see the outward expression of his inner demons.  I can no longer hold him accountable for the way his survival looks.

I get my bravery and courage from my Dad.  He has moments of posturing and trying to assert his dominance.  He does it with any man that wants to spend time with the women in our family.  He says it when he feels the need to meet and approve of any men we might be dating.  It shows up as the choices he makes and the ways we live those choices out.

Yesterday he had heart surgery.  In his 7th decade of lapping our sun, it's his first and he's doing really well considering how epicurean his tastes are.  I was trying to figure out how to be present for him while also living in my authenticity.  I realised I couldn't sacrifice myself for him because I wouldn't be engaged with him.  I would be torn.  I had an office party on Thursday that I went to.  I had a great time.  Once I left, I picked up a few things for my Dad and went to visit him.

He wanted to shave and insisted he could stand over the sink and do it himself.  I saw his gown was stained and helped him change out of it.  He was surprised at my understanding of easing him out of and into a new gown but I reminded him I was hospitalized for a month with the twins I carried as a surrogate mother. I was upside down in the trendelenburg position for a week, eating meals and going to the bathroom in this 45 degree, feet above my head position. Two years later I was hospitalized again for pulmonary embolisms.  I understood his discomfort and how to get him dressed, taking advantage of the way the gowns are created.  I brought him a basin and washcloths and watched him shave.

He relies on a mirror far less than he used to, familiar with the stretch and pull of his face and the ways his skin folds with the wrinkles offered to him through time.  He handed me his razor to swish and shake through the basin of water. He tried washing his hand in the water, and I showed him how effective a damp washcloth could be.  When he was done, I used a fresh, damp washcloth to wipe his face gently.  We talked.  I encouraged him.  He encouraged me.  He wanted donuts but I only carry suckers and I left without one, once I got approval from his nurse. He wanted me to go to work and not wait for him during surgery but visit him after he was out.  He knows my job doesn't pay me when I'm not there to work and he knows I need to care for his grandsons.

During his surgery I was having a hard time focusing on work.  I was present.  I was engaged, but it was easy to rabbit trail my thoughts else where.  I hoped the boys could have stayed with their Dad so I could spend more time with mine, but they couldn't and in accepting the situation I was in, I saw that this forced my visit to last exactly as long as it needed to for my Dad's post op. I checked on my kids, and picked up my sister to go see our Dad.

He was tilted in the way he needed to be.  He was starved and able to eat but only in that position, so I fed him.  Bite by bite, I have to admit it was more satisfying than feeding a baby that is learning with solid foods.  I helped him find his things as he was moved and had no control over where his belongings were. He was on really good drugs and not really aware of his limitations or why he needed to have them. I helped him get situated and after a short while we left.

There was something so humbling about helping him because I have always seen him as a powerful man.  It was a moment of being able to give him my love in a way that was an offering and not a request of his.  It felt like a gift to be able to offer my love through service and have it received so completely.

While life still happens at the speed of existence, I was still able to jump from conversation to conversation with catfish and real men alike.  I was able to paper tiger through work orders and purchase orders in the magic that is my pre-invoice.  Facing and correcting errors created during my training. I was able to be mom and sister and daughter, and I was gifted with being able to support the man who has made me the woman I am today.  I'm often asked how I'm doing because that is how we reach out to others with minimal risk.  It was a great day to be me, and this is what it looks like.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 5

These are texts from December 16, and to recap, I met this man on an online dating site.  We started chatting through their messenger, and then through text, but he had to leave his home in Beverly Hills to work in Brazil for a couple of months.  We now talk through Google Hangouts but these men also like Kik, Viber and any other sites where they are using an app.  They've never used an iPhone and their calls are brief if they even call. They usually can't call and I'm slightly amazed at the difficulty in getting a call from international business people who would in theory call people as part of their work flow. It's a 9 hour flight to the obscure city he's in, but as a point of reference, it's not too far from Rio de Janeiro.  I know how to look up a map which is fun when they start talking about places they live. Since there's no way he could possibly see me right now, he's making sure I'm emotionally connected to him and only him.  He promises to come see me for Christmas though.  I will spare you the many times I'm asked about work, or what I'm eating or the ways he expands on the details of my life I have shared.  There's a definite schedule to our communications.  It's early morning until about noon, typically. Then it drops off until much later (almost like a whole 9 hours because he talks to me like he is working all day, but then drops off like he has a shift he really can't text through).

He's my good morning texter and I'm grateful that he's learning I don't need that to be at 5 in the morning.  He's established himself as the earliest texter because normal men try to keep it much more casual.  Like annoyingly casual.  Like I know that phone is in your hand, and you saw what I had to say, and yet your brief reply needs a day and a half to marinate and form.  Your disinterest is calculated or you really suck at multiple conversations at once.  They also freak out if you say more than you like them and want to hang out in the first month and a half.

Being punctual helps with his schedule for me, and his language still gets me.  I mean, he grew up in New York but hasn't once said it was "a mad boring flight." He has lived in LA for years and his "resume work daily" is the sound of a foreigner applying natural language rules to the unnatural craziness of English.

The hustle is what he knows and that is how he connects to me.  He asks a lot about what I do, when my breaks are, will I get in trouble for texting him.  He notices the spaces when I ignore him because I'm in a meeting or training someone else.  The distance means a 20 minute car ride but I steal the hour to clear my thoughts.  If he were really someone I could see growing a relationship with, I would insist on a call during my car ride because my car has an awesome hands free system for calls.

Babe.  Miss you.  How's work.  I could never get lost in his depth.  That makes me sad.

Food.  And watching a picture of me while he eats.  This doesn't say creepy at all.  Again he's connecting through things that hardly matter because he's really trying to matter.  If I feel like he's interested in my minutiae, then maybe he's the only one that cares for me and I'd better keep him close to me.

Maya Angelou once wrote that jealousy is like salt.  A little can enhance the savor.  Too much spoils a meal.  I see it as insecurity.  The lack of confidence is not sexy.  It's clingy and vile. Don't do this.  Real or fake, clingy insecurity, jealousy and possession are a major turn off.  Besides, would you want a prisoner, or a person that doesn't need you but chooses you? I'd always prefer to be a choice.

Love sick puppy willing to country hop can sound fun.  But I've never met him.  That's a lot of pressure and a whole lot of creeptastic going on right there.

The amazing thing about smartphones is they come with world phones.  It's two taps for me to see his time and it looked like 4 in the morning.  I shouldn't have a better idea of your time zone than you do.

He might not do this for any other person but he follows a scripted pattern that others have already done.

I was bored, so I thought I'd have him remind me of his story before seeing if I could pick it apart.

If you ask any other American that lived through the 9/11 terror attacks, they could tell you exactly what they were doing.  I was on bedrest with Kid1.  I was asleep when my ex called to see if I could tell him what was on the news.  I was confused about him telling me what had just happened because I was watching the second plane live.  I couldn't imagine the same accident happening twice and I couldn't understand that it was done on purpose.

He claims to be American. He would have lived through it. I felt rage at this point.

Earlier this week he said he was close to marriage and she died.

Forever seems so long.  I give this one another week or two at the most.

I'm really great at lying through text.  See what I did there?

He wants to marry me, and can't tell that I used song lyrics on him.  *Epic Facepalm, just short of bruising*

This tells me he'll pop the question in less than 7 days.  Will he ask for a gift card, money, a phone, cash a check he'll have mailed to me, use a credit card . . . They possibilities are endless but these are the usual.

Yes, he thinks I would want to go through diapers and sleepless nights and the cost of a child with someone I have just met and started talking to for 5 days.

I offer many opportunities for them to slow down a bit.  They never do.

Isolation looks like a hunger for love and acceptance.  He's hoping by Christmas I will see him as family and worth every hard earned penny I would otherwise use on my kids.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 4

Day 4 is where the fun really starts to begin for my latest catfish.  It starts as a slip, but yes, he's sure he loves me.  After 4 days of texting.  After never having met.  After blowing me off instead of warning me that we would not be able to meet on Wednesday.  But he loves me.

The crazy continues because I have yet to meet him and he would suggest I would let him meet my kids.

Handing out "I love you" like bologna sandwiches at a picnic.  I mean, I love meat.  I'm a total carnivore. I wouldn't go vegetarian for him.  Not for a month, not for a meal, so do I actually love him? Not more than steak.  Maybe more than seeded grapes.  Yes, I love him more than seeded grapes because seeded grapes aren't worth the purchase to me although I like the taste and feel of eating grapes.  Just not the ones with the seeds.

The greatest question is why would I encourage this farce?  I do it all the time and with all of them. Part of me hopes he's just really lonely and hoping for a sincere connection.  He's usually cute enough that I would try to pull out a conversation over dinner.  The larger part of me knows that if he's spinning his wheels trying to get me to bite the bait he's casting, he's not taking advantage of someone that really would do anything for companionship.  I'm looking. I'm motivated to find a relationship. I'm also happy to be alone until it's right. I'm great company to myself. I laugh at my own jokes too.

He's a big baller getting ready to take care of me, and it is supposed to get me comfortable because in theory he will be able and willing to meet my needs.  The rapport we create is supposed to be a two way street.  I'll just end up walking through his dark alley before he sees mine.

I had my office party and ended up staying out later than usual.  These posts go past midnight because my schedule pushed our conversations later than normal. Most of them have a schedule when they usually talk.  Early morning, late at night and either through the morning or afternoon, but never all day every day.  There's always a schedule.

He's used to women jumping for him.  He wanted me home at a certain time and it didn't happen.  His impatience is usually a one way ticket to "No" from me, but I'm working on my blog with him, so I indulge it.

I'm not talking to guys. I'm talking to catfish.  The real me is picky and hasn't actually been on a date in months.  No one asks me out, but I kinda like it that way sometimes.  Usually.

He's not trying to look jealous but he does look like he's trying to make sure I'm alienated and motivated to do all he asks of me.

No.  He won't meet my boys.  He still wants to alienate me and wants to make sure I have no other romantic interests.  I have my mirror though. Maybe I should warn him that my self love is insane and he has me to compete with.

I almost feel sorry for the catfish's past lovers.  You wouldn't believe how many of them have died tragically. Don't worry, he has a happy ending.

I've met genuine widowers and none of them are this flippant.  I threw up a little in my mouth when I read this.  You are justified in being disgusted.

I know.  I'm amazing. I would be in love with me too.  You know what else I can't always get off my mind? Stress.  Fear.  Indigestion because of a wheat mishap.  I don't love those things.  It's not a crush or infatuation.  Even after 4 whole days.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 3

Day 3 is when my latest catfish and I were going to try to meet up.  Sort of. They never will actually meet you, but they want you to feel like that meeting is right around the corner. I had other plans and had no intention of waiting around for him to show up for me. The conversation kept going into the slight but maybe likely possibility that I would get to meet him after work.  It was Wednesday and I wouldn't have my kids, so I could meet for coffee or dinner before he flies out for Brazil.  In theory.  I actually ended up keeping Kid3 and took him to a holiday party with friends instead.

I'm still amused that he's trying to pretend to be from New York/California with his word choice.  

Notice the timestamps? I reached out on my way to pick my son up, and he waited a few hours to respond.  

It was after 10 and he was trying to suggest we might still meetup.  Honestly, if you're going to blow me off, at least be considerate that I might have other ways to spend my night.  But I knew I'd never meet him.  It's not how a catfish operates.

The difference with a catfish from most online perverts is he wants to prolong the game.  He won't bring up sex unless you do.  He'll keep it respectful to stay in your good graces.  He will make sure you understand he's hard working and he needs you to be patient for him because your payout is a good man that knows how to take care of himself and is willing to extend that to you.

I spared you all of the ways he can't do without me.  He feels special because of my attention and expects that if he mirrors what he wants me to feel, I'll feel it.  He really is sorry that we couldn't meet because of circumstances outside of his control.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 2

Day 2, December 13, 2016 I'm breaking up my days into the standard Midnight to Midnight format that most of us follow and posting texts per day.

Good morning comes well before I wake because he needs to be the first person on my mind. Even at 5. I'm a light sleeper so I look, ignore and try to sleep a bit longer.

We talk about our lives and he tells me about his work. It's exciting and the opportunities are always huge and impressive. The work he's about to do always has a huge payout.  Once it was a man leaving town to be with his relative that was alone and in need.  He was going to be a hero and needed my support after he was beaten and robbed in a city he doesn't call home,.

My interest in a country I've never been to gives him the opportunity to suggest an Aladdin opportunity to show me the world. Never mind the fact that we just started talking the day before and under any other circumstance this would just be creepy. Well, it is creepy.

He's establishing the fact that he will be gone but not for long. It's enough of a breadcrumb trail that I might want to support a long distance relationship for a short while. He has no clue that I pass on military men about to retire in two months that want to find a wife and have much more husbandly promise because I want company this week.

This is where it starts to get really sweet. He's laying it on thick enough to give me cavities and I begin to troll my catfish right back.  I pretend I don't know the difference between infatuation, lust, love and connection.  I let him believe I'm not self aware enough to know how I feel about myself and what I want and am willing to sacrifice in my life. I pretend I might be in love with him, rather than being in love with falling in love.  I act as if he has all I need and that I'm not at all creeped out because I need what he's selling.

Typically he lives on his own in a lonely city with few and far family in another state or country. When he inevitably needs my help, he'll need me because we've been talking two weeks and his family... Well, they can't help the successful man I've fallen in love with that is usually the one helping them.

Day 2 and he wants us to meet each other's families. Day 2 and he wants me to fly across the country with him. Day 2 and we have yet to nail down a meeting for coffee and dinner. I went to New York once. It was a trip I funded to take my ex boyfriend to see the family he missed.  We were together for over a year and a half and I didn't see all I wanted to see.  When I go back to the Big Apple, it's very likely going to be a solo trip.

Monday after being a daughter for a few hours after a full work shift, I got to my kids around 9. My mom surprised us with a Christmas tree. It's not a big deal for her because she drives a minivan.  I drive a 2016 Toyota Camry and I had 3 kids.  I wasn't up to strapping the tree to the roof, so I put down the back seat and shoved it in the trunk and through the car.  My kids squished in alongside it.  My boys were angry that they had to wait so long at Grandma's house and they weren't feeling helpful. I got home, and I threw an 8 foot tree over my shoulder and carried it down a flight of stairs after fighting it out of my trunk. I put it on the tree stand and made sure it was straight. I dragged it into place, all alone because I am a badass and wanted to give the boys space for their anger. My only help was Kid3 closing the gate behind me.  I really don't want more kids although I miss being pregnant sometimes and a man that changes my mind about that will have magic dust stowed away somewhere. I've been a single mom with a husband that parented from the couch.  I need to see how amazing he is as a Dad before I'll even consider kids with someone else, and my usual gut reaction to the question of "Do you want more kids?" is "Hell the Fuck No." So here, I was totally trolling him.

I'm not nice.  I've said this, right? The plan for tonight is we're trying to meet up.  I expect him to flake and have other plans anyway.

If it sounds too good to be true, he's probably a catfish.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 1

Day 1 - December 12, 2016 I have been online dating on and off since May. I have also lost track of how many times I've been catfished. My expectations for online dating are really low, and this time I jumped back in with the intent of finding a catfish.  I just put myself on a not super incognito assignment.  My blog is directly in my dating profile.  I also include the fact that I will share really tasteless texts with friends.  I don't mention there's a whole Facebook album, but if they really wanted to date me, they would probably check me out.  They follow similar patterns and as I was approached online by someone today that was practically reading a familiar script, I thought I would over think this for you.

First, he's someone I would date. He's between 35 and 49 (only if he's ridiculously beautiful). He looks much younger than the age he claims is his. He's got hair I can imagine running my fingers through or he's bald. I don't know what it is with bald heads, but I'm not complaining. He has laugh lines and salt and pepper hair.  He's more tan than deathly pale, but more likely to burn than tan under the sun. He's tall and has a great smile. His body isn't much softer than mine. I prefer it when he loves his body as much as he wants me to.  He might be a runner or into Crossfit, but he's definitely not surfing the couch most days. I don't really care about grammar and spelling because there's a chance he speaks Italian or German or French or Hebrew or Arabic. I'm picky but I'm not. I'm charmed by the variance in his word choice. He usually makes the first move beyond matching because I love it when a man knows what he wants and what he wants looks like me. I'm not picky about tattoos but he doesn't have any. There's probably a catfish credo about being appealing to most single women over 35.  They live in Beverly Hills or Santa Monica or Culver City but they're out of town for work.

This one had a picture that looked like any all American blonde adonis.

A few have been engineers. I've met businessmen that buy and sell minerals. They are archeologists. They are street planners in rural areas of America. They are airline pilots. They work in fields where years of schooling or luck, intuition and entrepreneurial grit have have given them financial comfort. All that's missing is a partner in love.

They want to know what my connections are. Will I have someone to answer to? Is there an angry clan that has my back? Am I close to my family or am I so lonely that I would do my very best to please him or help him when he runs into some terrible situation.

Working independently of a solid location means they travel. They want to take you with them. When they can, of course. But this also means they'll get stuck in a precarious situation that only the love of their life, that they met two weeks ago can bail them out.

They want to know what you do and how much you make. They want to know if you can take care of their needs and see it as helping each other out, but they ask first. Even before you've ever met or spoken on a phone and you will probably never meet in person.

This one actually broached the topic of being scammed. This doesn't usually happen, but he needed to gauge what he was working with.

Back to the question of how I will support him. He starts talking about vacation, suggesting the notion that he wants me to go with him. I may be thinking a local coffee shop after work, but he's hoping I will love the idea of an Aladdin type magic carpet ride.

Again, we talk of the cat fish. He's looking out for me. I can see this, right?

I thought the conversation would stop here, but hours later he started chatting again.

.

He talks about the city I have always lived in as if it's a foreign place to me, but when I ask where he is, he takes the time to come up with an answer I'm almost certain a map search provided. Actually, the Virginia Robinson Gardens is a stop on my "go-do-be-see" list. It's on Elden Way. You should check it out. 

There's something in his text that doesn't sound like New York or Cali.  He says "Mum" instead of "mom." His phrases are off a bit because he's not a native speaker, so I ask to give him the opportunity to come up with something solid.

He sticks to his story and then this happens:

The conversation goes back to the bread crumb hope that he will see me soon.  Soon is always a week or two out but never actually happens.

More to come.  Will you be reading?