Archives for posts with tag: Baby Boomer Dating

WOW! I left Green River, Utah at 9:30 AM today headed West on I-70 to drive 237 miles which, under normal driving, would have taken just a little over three (3) hours with the speed limits generally ranging from 75-80 MPH past the major inclines.

I did decide as I took off from Green River that I’d take the time to turn off on “Scenic Views” if and when I saw something interesting. The name “Black Dragon Canyon” pulled me right in. I didn’t have the time or inclination to hike the trail to see the drawing but if you Google the name, you’ll see an interesting pictograph painted on the walls of the canyon by ancient ones of what looks to be a flying dragon, which, by the way, isn’t black! The view, however, was marvelous!

2017-10-20 UT1

Now, go back in time a couple of days to recall that horrific 40-60 MPH wind gusts I faced going through Denver toward Boulder? Well, I guess somebody upstairs wanted to prepare me for today because it took me 6 hours to drive that 3 hour distance because of that same situation except include 8000′-foot elevation mountains (up and down), dust flying from undeveloped prairies and NO gas stations for a hundred miles on a tank that’s only gave me 7-8 MPG today! The good news is that the only cows I saw were in holding pins and not in front of me in cattle trailers!

After driving almost a hundred miles without the whiff of a gas station, I broke my normal rule of easy on/off gas stations at the exits and decided to exit at Emery, Utah  as the next town was 35 miles away. It was one of those gut instinct moments because only after exiting the expressway was there a sign that read “Next Gas 35 Miles.” Needless to say, I gladly drove the 24 miles roundtrip to get to the sleepy little one-gas-pump (literally) town to fill up.  I would have been so screwed if I hadn’t!  All these years of driving the back roads (and especially this summer’s adventures in Canada) reinforced my instincts to fill up at every chance.

The few times the winds weren’t beating me up, I was able to catch a few shots that were so magnificent that I just had to try and capture some of the wonderment of this region. It feels like “home” to me except for all the winds!

2017-10-20 UT2

2017-10-20 Ut3

2017-10-20 Ut4

2017-10-20 Ut5

I finally made it to my next stop for the night glad I booked in advance because all these RV parks fill up quickly! I need the rest from those blowin’ winds. I got this baby anchored down for the night which is something I don’t normally do on hit-and-run stays. I don’t normally mind being rocked to sleep but I’ve had enough of that bucking bronco rodeo for today! I need a trophy that reads, “Buckin’ Bronco Road Warrior Rodeo Champion!”

So, Happy Trails…until we meet again!

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EXPERIMENT.

According to The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Dell  Publishing Co. paperback, July, 1974 (obviously my college copy), the  definition of “experiment” is: “A test made to demonstrate a known truth,  examine the validity of a hypothesis, or determine the efficacy of something  previously untried.” 

There were very few times my ex-partner went with me to one of my therapy  sessions but, to give him credit, he did go when I requested. It was this last  request for him to attend with me AFTER the break-up that produced his  epiphany about the 16 years we spent together. I’d hoped that the session  would give me (if not us) some much-needed closure to this long, often  wonderful but rapidly deteriorating energy between us so we could move  forward more smoothly into our tomorrows.

It was as we walked after the session to our respective cars that he said blah- blah-blah “… it was an experiment…”. I can’t tell you what was said before  because I was still in very deep thought, processing the last ninety minutes to  “hear” much of what he was saying until he said the “e” word. Then, my brain  screamed, “WHAT?”

It wasn’t until I was in the confines of my car, safely in my own space, before I  could allow my brain to “go there”. Experiment. I chewed hard on his word.  After all, the man is a master craftsman of words (has to be — he’s a lawyer by  trade). And, after 16 years, he deserved my contemplation of his intentional use of this word, especially at this  moment in time. It was a pregnant concept.

As I’d witnessed my mom, the biologist, conduct many  scientific tests in the  zoology labs at Georgia State, my first gut reaction to his choice of words  produced a visual perception more akin to a clinical, sterile, intentional,  psychological labratory-rat-in-the-maze kinda’ thing than what I thought we’d  lived to suit me  but, in all reality, that’s why we were in this situation.

THAT’S when I got mad.

Believe me when I say it took me  m-o-n-t-h-s  of digesting, regurgitating,  spitting, spewing, chewing and, some internal and external screaming, before I could actually  think from my perspective if I felt the same about him. Was he MY  experiment? NOW I was getting somewhere.

Why months? Well, it took me a great deal of time to condense all those years  into one word, especially that one. It was such a  foreign concept to me. And,  slow isn’t always a bad thang when it comes to changing your thinking,  lifestyle, direction and choices (especially in the type of man you want or tend  to attract). Which brings me to the core of the process which I chose to work  through this whole epiphany. E-dating.

Purely in the interest of “research”, I joined a “free” on-line dating site, a  “average cost” one and the more advertised “costlier” version so as to see  what the 21st century experience would reveal to this Baby Boomer.

In a nut  shell? Not much of a surprise. I’m complicated. I know what I want  and, more  importantly, I know what I DON’T want. I’m looking for  the proverbial “needle  in the haystack” and I don’t mind waiting. I even stated  as much in my profile.  I was extremely honest from the beginning knowing I  didn’t want to attract the usual kooks.

From the free site, I was deluged with so many “matches” I couldn’t believe  these men were seriously interested. Some were thousands of miles away and  wanted me to come to them. Yeah, right. I’m the one who said I wanted to take  it slow in my profile, remember? Plus, I’d stated I wanted a  serious  relationship and marriage so why all this popularity? Fresh meat?

I changed my profile to be even less appealing and still got way too many  matches so  I started responding to some of the overtures with poignant  questions as to  their intent or how they intended to maintain a relationship of  quality with over 2000 miles between us or asking if there really was anything  in my profile that  led  you to believe I wanted to raise your children? Geez. I  never heard of so many widowed men looking for mothers for their children!

Finally, I settled  into getting to know via email several men within the  confines of  the site, careful to never give any revealing info. It was fun in a  voyeuristic kinda’ way “peeping” into someone’s life and  superficially getting  acquainted. Some were more genteel in making known their intentions by  insinuating “all my parts work” in the hope of luring you  into some response  that would encourage them into some 60-something-sex-craved evening with  aging bodies imbued with the little blue pill.

There was one man who was a very simple, less educated, retired military  country man who reminded me of my rodeo winning,  bronco riding cowboy  uncle. The man couldn’t type and I really don’t know  how he made coffee  without the help of his daughter but he was entertaining  for the mere fact that  he reminded me of my favorite (and only) uncle. I used  the “*67” code on my  cell phone to block my number and called him because of  all these reasons. He  was my exception.

He rarely knew what to say to me so I took the lead by asking him questions  about his life. At first, we talked about his horses (a soft spot in my heart), his  dogs (yet another) and what he did in the military. I loved listening to his  plain-spoken ways. It was refreshing after living for 16 years with a multi- lingual, overly articulate, deliberate, intentional being.

It was in our last conversation (of about 5) when we talked about his need to  jump into the 21st century (a conversation I’d had many times with my ex). He  said his daughter was the one who got him signed up on the free site and was  really pushing him to start by texting her on his phone. Half the time, he didn’t  know what she was trying to tell him because she’d throw a bunch of letters  together that didn’t mean nothing to him at all (I fight the urge to type this  phonetically in his country southern accent for which I’m quite renown).

I explained to him it wasn’t so hard to type messages these days as there were  so many abbreviations people use like, “LOL” and “BFF” which I translated for  him. He seemed to like that so I continued down that road. But, it was when he  proudly announced (quite in the middle of my lesson), “My lil’ ole’ pecker still  works, ya’  know!” that I said, “LMAO”, followed by, “That’s TMI!” over and  over. He  wanted to know what “TMI” was but I was laughing too hard to  respond. I could  just hear my uncle saying that! When I finally regained my  composure, I told him it meant “too much information”. We said our “good-byes” and that was the last time we spoke.

All the while this occurrence was overlapped by the two other on-line dating  services giving off their own energy. The mid-line model male participant was  less aggressive in expressing his carnal desires (thanks, God). I actually got to  know a couple of these guys via email but none really of great interest. Yes, I’m  picky but I plan on continuing in that vein as I’m not ever making me more  complicated by inadvertently becoming someone else’s experiment… again.

The more celebrated service has inundated me with matches of a much higher  quality supposedly within my scope of personality requirements, likes and  dislikes, haves and must-not-haves, ad nausea all of whom are no where close  to a “match” to my liking. They’re either too O.C.D. about how their body looks (comparing it  to their weight from high school… really?) or their work or their religion or  their politics or their children or their grandchildren to LIVE.

After being a single mom to two children since I was 18, I’m not in the martyr  mode any more. I want to reside where I want to and spend my day pondering  my next Great Adventure or creating something that I may take apart tomorrow  just because I can. I don’t want to be harassed by news because it gives me  indigestion. I don’t want to talk politics because I HATE politicians. I don’t  want to be bullied into liking someone else’s opinion, place or thing.

Don’t get me wrong, if YOU like this stuff, that’s cool. I just chose to not have it  in my life. Hence, my conclusion that maybe, just maybe, my ex WAS my  experiment after all. I learned emphatically what I DO NOT WANT,  which to  my way of thinking, is so much more valuable than what you DO want.

A much happier ME!

I created the mantra, “I refuse to let your confusion to be my confusion” when  we first started dating 16 years ago. It saved my life. It was also when I devised  the  “1+1=2” theorem: life boils down to very basic elements wherein 1+1 MUST  ALWAYS EQUAL 2.  Over analyzing, over-theorizing, over-dissecting, over-evaluating and over-thinking cause us much stress and  confusion. Example.  Instead of wondering why a person does or doesn’t act in a certain way, turn  the focus on yourself by asking, “Why do I care? Should I let  it impact my  quality of life?”

Yep, I’ve come full circle but that’s a good thang.

And, always remember: If your  dog gives you more of what you need than your partner, you’ve got the right  dog!

Montana doggie park 10-10 taken by Maya

Happy Trails!

It was a long time comin’, the break up I mean. We were together 16 years…    wonderful, adventurous, youthful, happy, miserable, exciting, dull, intimate,  frustrating, entertaining and distant years. We both knew that our differences would catch up with us one day but wanted to enjoy each other for as long as we would/could and then move on. I don’t believe anyone else understood that about us but I certainly did and I believe he did too, especially in that last couple of years we had.

At first, our differences were wonderful opportunities to explore another  thought process, or another perspective, or another way of living. I always  bought groceries for the whole week at once because time was precious to me  as a single mother of two. The kids always had something planned and I  wanted to be in the middle of whatever they were doing. He, on the other hand,  carried forth the European custom of going to the store every day to purchase  everything fresh. Once I adjusted to this concept, I was cool with it. It took a  great deal of heat off me to plan meals. I was tired of planning and cooking  anyway so this gave him the chance to do it “his way” which made us both  happy. That was one of those things that was different that I came to like.

The fact that he was Jewish didn’t interfere at all with my Christian beliefs  inasmuch as Judaism is the foundation of my faith. I enjoyed those early years  when he would read Hebrew to me and give me an impromptu translations  extremely similar to the verses taught in King James. But, I think it was the  fact that “faith” in something “outside the box” is a greater value in Christianity because you have to “believe”  in the virgin birth,  Christ as the Son of God, not to mention raising the dead, numerous miracles and, of course, the ascension. My understanding of  Reform Judaism doesn’t “require” their followers to “believe” in anything as remarkable (except maybe the parting of  the proverbial waters, which, if not  believed, doesn’t leave your whole religious convictions in a pile of ashes like it  would in Christianity).

My small town family farm upbringing in Sandy Springs, GA didn’t really seem  to be all that big a difference until the rubber met the road about 6 years ago.  His big city upbringing in Europe placed numerous colors on his persona  pallet including loving the “confusion” of smells, noises, activities  and bustle which are intrinsic in larger communities.

He took his “father of the family” role very seriously… too seriously to my way  of thinking. There comes a time when everyone is grown up. You allow them to  be grown up and to take the hits and tumbles that life deals out so they grow so  they’re strong adults. Blame the farm, if you will, but it’s life and anything  short of  this will make them delusional about their own futures.

I was always a writer, artist, thinker of fanciful thoughts and dreamer.  However, I was able to bring forth that “other side” of my brain to live in his  world of law long enough to support my family with the lifelong dream of  retiring early so I could do what I’m doing now… traveling, writing, creating  and any damn thing I wanna’ do when I wanna’ do it. As a very good litigation  lawyer, you’re cynical by nature and only believe in what one can see, taste,  touch or prove by scientific evidence. Vive le difference!

I believe that the DNA marker for creative energy brings along with it  wonderful gifts from God including telepathic communication, a “sense” of  things (I’ve got a “feeling”), as well as an umbilicus-like  connection with  those I love that can keep me up all night if they’re in distress or dancing all  day when they’re ecstatic. Some would call this Bi-polar  behavior but that’s  because “they’ve” been taught to think anything outside the  “box” is unnatural,  scary, treatable… or not, ; I’ve been known to lift up the “box” just to see  what’s under, beside, on top as well as inside it!

Now, to the point of my ranting. A couple of weeks ago, I saw my “ex” and he  asked if I was dating. I gave him that “Victrola dog” cocked-head look and  asked why he wanted to know. He proceeded to tell me he’d seen one of my  blogs about Ava’s fund-raiser and wondered if “Randy” was someone I was  dating. Frankly, I couldn’t remember a “Randy” and later had to go back to my  blog to figure it all out. Quickly shaking off his slant to the question, I told him, “Yes! I’m happily dating… MYSELF.”

Me enjoying dinner at Lucille's in Vegas - my first date with ME!

And it’s true. I’m thoroughly enjoying taking myself on long walks by the river  every evening, dining out, traveling, staying up late crying over a love story  gone sad,  watching anything on TV or not, sleeping in or not, working  outside keeping up my 7 acres or not. It’s liberating as hell not answering to  anyone about what you’ve done with your day.

Being raised by my father on that family farm made everyone accountable to  him for everything, every minute of every day. So did my work as a title  insurance underwriter or as administrator of a law firm or as a paralegal.  Creative people are not built to withstand such long periods of time with that  extreme  structure. Yes, education is different for us. We can handle that form  of  discipline as we love learning especially about our passions. We’ll get down  right reclusive when engrossed in our passions.

Some call it mania. I call it normal.

I signed up with Netflix for a free month after being introduced to it at Ava’s  this past trip. I love all creative energy that produces good thought-provoking,  healthy understanding of people, places or things. Movies with good casting,  script writing, character development, directing and filming about real people  are the joy of my evenings now that I have them at my fingertips.  “Nicholas and Alexandra” was the first biopic I fell totally in love with. It’s that  BBC accuracy and authenticity that “sends” me.

Well, this past week, I’ve taken myself to the movies every night. I’m still not  very comfortable with taking me on a dat to the theatre so I watched them in  my own living room. This week I’ve fallen in love with “Modigliani” (early  modernistic painter), “Amadeus” (Mozart),  “Pollock” (1940’s era modernistic  painter), “Frida” (early  modernistic painter), “Mrs. Brown” (Queen Victoria’s  years after Alfred’s  death), “Secretariat” (the horse that “couldn’t” but did), “The Soloist” (true story  of a genius cellist) and so many more.

These  movies gave me insight into my own sensitive, creative self I probably wouldn’t have gotten if I hadn’t taken the time to take me on those movie dates. It also helped me sort out a few other things about my own kids and life without the arts.

Both of my VERY creative, sensitive children suffered from not having more art early on in their lives… Carl’s painting and Ava’s music. It’s a retrospective view of my own life and that of my kids’ superimposed over these biographies which lend a new perspective of the importance  of creative energy in the world and how it helps to keep our equilibrium in the  midst of world insanity. I’d have to say my “ex” (or most men for that matter) would never watch and enjoy these movies which would, in effect, keep me from my next revelation: ONLY THROUGH DATING  MYSELF CAN I FIND MYSELF AGAIN AFTER BEING BURIED IN ALL THE  RUBBLE OF MY YESTERDAYS TO HELP CREATE A NEW TOMORROW FOR MYSELF AND THOSE I LOVE.

Ava performing her Junior Recital 12/10

My daughter, Ava (the opera singer), got me to thinking about this whole  concept when she said that Sarah Palin wanted to cut out funding for the arts.  The latest insanity comes from Michelle Bachman on this same line. What’s  wrong with these people? If they’re so “Reagonistic”, don’t they realize being  an actor is part of the arts?

The question then becomes, “What value do the arts  (writing, painting, sculpting,  singing, music composition, et al) bring to our  world?”

My conclusion is: “EVERYTHING!”

If we don’t have Mozart, our brains don’t  get smarter (right?). If we don’t have paintings, we don’t work that side of our  brain to enjoy being outside the “box” hence we don’t invent new ways of doing  things. If we don’t have sculptures, what adorns our cities? If we don’t have  ALL of the ARTS available to our sensitive, creative children they die a slow, painful death. How do I know? You’ll have to read my book when it comes out.

Ava and Carl in her swimming pool 1978

Europe has had, at least, part of “it” right in that it has centuries of history in  supporting the arts as a whole. The church screwed it up but the  Impressionists broke through that barrier and dared to be artists outside the  church’s realm. They weren’t  rich like the artists who did stay within the  “double yellows” of life but the ones who broke free were truly liberated enough  to explore their own genius. Take  Van Gogh. He suffered terribly, as most  artists who were driven to be true to themselves. Thank God he lived in an  environment not  totally alien to his genius and for his brother’s love and  support of him.

I truly believe we must stop dropping important areas of growth and  development of our children in the name of economy. We’ll have an abundance  of dysfunctional people living on the streets because they have no venue within  which to express their own genius. Not everyone is created equal. Some of us  are created “outside the box”.

So, my children, lend me your ears… from the woman who thought love could  conquer all, I lied. From the woman who thought differences only made the  relationship richer, I lied. From the woman who still embraces everyone to be  true to themselves, I celebrate. From the woman who is excited to be dating  herself at 63 in an effort to continue to understand the inner workings of herself, I  celebrate and recommend it at any age.

Since my “decoupling”, I must say I’m quite happy. People are telling me how  much happier I look, think and feel. It’s true. I’m very happily dating myself  and exploring my next great adventure… myself. Would I “do” the 16 years all  over again? You betcha’ I would. I wouldn’t take all those learning  opportunities away for nothing in the world.

I’m just sayin’.