Lately I've been bothered by comments that, honestly, I've heard for years. It isn't that they've just begun to piss me off, it's that I'm now trying to figure out why they're made in the first place.
I had a conversation a few weeks ago and someone said they couldn't imagine me in love. Granted, they've only known me for a few years and in that time I haven't been in a serious relationship but I was still a bit surprised. It brought to mind a conversation I had years ago. A family member and I were discussing someone who'd chosen to stay in a marriage even though it was abusive. All in the name of love and loyalty. I said I didn't think the person should settle and that's when I was told, "Well then, you've never been in love before." She added, "When you really love someone you do whatever you have to to stay with that person." I disagreed. I felt, when you really love yourself you do what you can to save a relationship but you do WHATEVER you have to to save YOU. Another time I was told I wouldn't understand the reasons to fight for a relationship because I've never been married.
All of these comments bothered me. Actually, they hurt me.
I have certainly been in love before. Deep deep love. I've loved more than once. Each time for different reasons. Each time with very different people. Each time I felt shattered when it was over. But, make no mistake, I have been in love.
Last week I was having dinner with an old friend and there were more comments made that carried a similar message. I was called a hard ass and told that I don't give guys a chance. This made me wonder... why do I give this impression? What is it I do that makes it seem that I don't want or know how to love someone? That I'm not open to giving love a chance?
I've been engaged three times. That's giving love a chance.
I've had long term, monogamous relationships. That's giving love a chance.
I'm known for my crazy dating stories... that's giving love and guys a chance. In fact, that's giving them a chance despite my experiences.
I make silly jokes about being incompatible with guys because of their height or the kind of shoes they wear. That's all it is, a joke. Look, if a man was a good man and treated me right, his footwear would not keep me from loving him.
I think I can be hard on men but only after they give me reason to pause. Even then, I often let my friends and family talk me into giving them a little more time.
I believe the issues aren't about how I'm hard on them or that I don't know what real love is, they're about the fact that I don't settle. It bothers some people. It's much easier for someone to think I'm lacking the capacity to love or to commit instead of saying to themselves that they've settled. This way it's me who has the problem, not them. From their viewpoint they have more than I do, they're above me because they understand love and I don't.
Well, I do understand love. I believe in love itself.
I believe in love at first sight. I believe in soul mates. I celebrate the loving true relationships that exist. I've loved so hard that I'm still friends with several ex-boyfriends. Even some who in the end hurt me, I've found a way to continue to love and care for them. This is the reason I wonder, why do I keep getting such a bad wrap?
I've given love more of an opportunity than most people I know. The difference is that I've been heartbroken many times by different people and others have been heartbroken many times by the same person.
I may be single today but my options are still open and I think in the end, I have a better chance of finding that forever love than many who have criticized me and settled.
About Me
- Lady Sage
- Harlem, New York, United States
- At a very young age I knew I wanted to do anything that involved getting my "opinion" on life out there. I would tell true stories and made up stories. I would sing and dance. I would conduct interviews and draw pictures. I just needed an outlet. My plans were to become a talk show host, until one day my mother pointed out that it would mean I'd have to do a lot of listening too. I realized talk show host wasn’t really going to work since what I really wanted was to talk and have people listen. In time I had to admit that I had much more to say than most people had time to listen to. So, I started to keep a journal. My journals helped me to formulate my thoughts and emotions but I still had no audience. Hopefully this blog will give me that audience. Blessed Be
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Celebrating Singledom #2
Today I'm going to celebrate the fact that being single means NOT having to deal with Commitment-Phobes.
What's worse than a Commitment-Phobe are the men who make excuses about why they "can't" commit. They feel they need to tell you in advance that the relationship has an expiration date.
Whether it's said before anything even starts or the moment they realize they don't like you "in that way", they want to be "honest" but that doesn't mean they want to walk away either. Stating it first is like legal disclosure. They say it IN CASE they don't like you enough later. That way they can always say they told you in the beginning and not feel guilty. If they wait to say it, it's at the point they KNOW they want to keep their options open. And... if they change their mind and want to stay involved after all, they only come off seeming sweet and romantic. "They just couldn't help falling in love with you". "You changed their mind". Give me a break!
Men don't know when to stop if they're interested in a woman. That's the truth. So, if they were really interested you would know it. I'm sure I'll get negative feedback on that comment but I'm sorry, that's what I think. "He's just not that into you" is true, it isn't just a line from Sex and The City.
When they're interested in you they have tunnel vision. It VERY rarely occurs to them that the woman in question wouldn't be interested.
The most common excuse is being a parent........ not having time to give to a relationship because they're a parent. I say excuse because kids only become an issue when the "parent" chooses to make them an issue. Children aren't problems. What gets me too is that even when they say it's the kids that are a barrier, it's usually the ex that is the barrier.
Now that I've gone in this direction, let's take a look at "Baby Mama Drama". I could never respect a man who pushed his kids aside in order to enjoy the single life but there is certainly a balance. Women find the balance. A single mother does not have to point out that she's a mother first. A single mother is a mother first... that's just a given.
The true problem is not letting go of the past relationship. Not letting go of the relationship could mean one person is still in love with the other, one person wants to get revenge on the other or one feels guilty for failing the other. Whatever the reason, it usually isn't about the kids. Sometimes the ex has a problem with you being with the father but they can't legitimately complain about that so they bitch about your involvement with "their" kids. It's completely selfish on their part. And, if you're dealing with a guilty father... he's trying to prove to his ex that he's a good enough parent even if she isn't in the picture.
Whatever the deal is, men need to be honest with themselves first. Whether a man is using his children as a reason not to commit or they really have convinced themselves that their kids are the reason, they need to open their eyes.
Single fathers always have to point out, "I love my kids more than anything." "My kids are my world." "Nobody comes before my kids." Yadda Frackin' Yadda!
Who are you trying to convince?
Hello! You're a parent, your kids are dependant on you,yes; but mainly, YOU are THEIR world. They should be loved unconditionally, they should know that you are there for them always, they should be your priority but come on... your world? That's a statement a person makes when they aren't sure of their place in someone else's life. Words are just that... words. Actions speak louder.
If your children are YOUR WORLD then why are you looking for someone to spend time with? Those statements are just put out there to put some emotional distance in an adult relationship. If the kids don't live with you full time then what's the problem? Your kids don't need to know what you do in your downtime. Do you tell them everything? Does the ex need to know what you're up to unless you're bringing someone around the kids?
I mean, do you tell your kids what you and your boys are doing when you're hanging out at a bar or at the game? The things "guys" talk about? Do you discuss with them every aspect of your job? Do you discuss being intimate with a woman? Nope. Nope. And... Nope.
So, why the hell do you need to include them or your ex in your dating life? Unless things progress to a real emotional level there is no need.
If you decide you don't want a relationship to be more than physical then be straight up and honest... YOU don't want more. It's not your kids "being your world" that's putting up barriers, it's you. Be a man about it.
And, if there are unresolved issues with your ex then finish that before starting something new.
I have dealt with men making all kinds of excuses about "having" to do this or that with/for their kids. When it comes from the heart, it isn't you "have to", you want to. You don't have to pick up your kids, you're picking up your kids. You don't have to call your kids, you're calling your kids. You don't have to see them in a play, you're going to see them in a play. Think about it! Are they your world or is it your duty to be a parent? Are they your priority yet you have a life of your own? Loving your kids shouldn't be a hardship. Meeting someone new and moving on in your love life shouldn't be one either. IF you meet a woman who has an issue with you having kids, then that isn't someone worthy of your time but that's a whole different thing.
If you only want a physical relationship, that's fine... in that case your kids shouldn't be brought into the deal anyway.
On the other hand, don't confuse the woman. Stop sending mixed messages. When you say you HAVE to do something, you give the impression that you would rather not do it and when it's given as a reason for not being with her... well, it seems you're saying you'd rather be with her IF you could.
Not getting involved emotionally means keeping a certain intimate distance. It does not include you dumping your problems on her. Get a therapist if that's what you need.
Emotions are not just romantic, clingy feelings, they're all emotions. Talking about your kids, your family, making plans for your future, asking opinions about those things are not just the basics. It's getting involved. Asking a woman to give you her time, her concern and her body then drawing a line when she asks for the same is being a selfish jackass. Admit it to yourself at least.
I like to say, everyone has baggage, just don't ask me to carry yours. My hands are already full.
Soooooo... on a celebration note, being single means no Commitment Drama, real or made up. Being single means I can hang out with a guy and I can draw the line... This is a NO Dumping Zone!
Blessed Be
What's worse than a Commitment-Phobe are the men who make excuses about why they "can't" commit. They feel they need to tell you in advance that the relationship has an expiration date.
Whether it's said before anything even starts or the moment they realize they don't like you "in that way", they want to be "honest" but that doesn't mean they want to walk away either. Stating it first is like legal disclosure. They say it IN CASE they don't like you enough later. That way they can always say they told you in the beginning and not feel guilty. If they wait to say it, it's at the point they KNOW they want to keep their options open. And... if they change their mind and want to stay involved after all, they only come off seeming sweet and romantic. "They just couldn't help falling in love with you". "You changed their mind". Give me a break!
Men don't know when to stop if they're interested in a woman. That's the truth. So, if they were really interested you would know it. I'm sure I'll get negative feedback on that comment but I'm sorry, that's what I think. "He's just not that into you" is true, it isn't just a line from Sex and The City.
When they're interested in you they have tunnel vision. It VERY rarely occurs to them that the woman in question wouldn't be interested.
The most common excuse is being a parent........ not having time to give to a relationship because they're a parent. I say excuse because kids only become an issue when the "parent" chooses to make them an issue. Children aren't problems. What gets me too is that even when they say it's the kids that are a barrier, it's usually the ex that is the barrier.
Now that I've gone in this direction, let's take a look at "Baby Mama Drama". I could never respect a man who pushed his kids aside in order to enjoy the single life but there is certainly a balance. Women find the balance. A single mother does not have to point out that she's a mother first. A single mother is a mother first... that's just a given.
The true problem is not letting go of the past relationship. Not letting go of the relationship could mean one person is still in love with the other, one person wants to get revenge on the other or one feels guilty for failing the other. Whatever the reason, it usually isn't about the kids. Sometimes the ex has a problem with you being with the father but they can't legitimately complain about that so they bitch about your involvement with "their" kids. It's completely selfish on their part. And, if you're dealing with a guilty father... he's trying to prove to his ex that he's a good enough parent even if she isn't in the picture.
Whatever the deal is, men need to be honest with themselves first. Whether a man is using his children as a reason not to commit or they really have convinced themselves that their kids are the reason, they need to open their eyes.
Single fathers always have to point out, "I love my kids more than anything." "My kids are my world." "Nobody comes before my kids." Yadda Frackin' Yadda!
Who are you trying to convince?
Hello! You're a parent, your kids are dependant on you,yes; but mainly, YOU are THEIR world. They should be loved unconditionally, they should know that you are there for them always, they should be your priority but come on... your world? That's a statement a person makes when they aren't sure of their place in someone else's life. Words are just that... words. Actions speak louder.
If your children are YOUR WORLD then why are you looking for someone to spend time with? Those statements are just put out there to put some emotional distance in an adult relationship. If the kids don't live with you full time then what's the problem? Your kids don't need to know what you do in your downtime. Do you tell them everything? Does the ex need to know what you're up to unless you're bringing someone around the kids?
I mean, do you tell your kids what you and your boys are doing when you're hanging out at a bar or at the game? The things "guys" talk about? Do you discuss with them every aspect of your job? Do you discuss being intimate with a woman? Nope. Nope. And... Nope.
So, why the hell do you need to include them or your ex in your dating life? Unless things progress to a real emotional level there is no need.
If you decide you don't want a relationship to be more than physical then be straight up and honest... YOU don't want more. It's not your kids "being your world" that's putting up barriers, it's you. Be a man about it.
And, if there are unresolved issues with your ex then finish that before starting something new.
I have dealt with men making all kinds of excuses about "having" to do this or that with/for their kids. When it comes from the heart, it isn't you "have to", you want to. You don't have to pick up your kids, you're picking up your kids. You don't have to call your kids, you're calling your kids. You don't have to see them in a play, you're going to see them in a play. Think about it! Are they your world or is it your duty to be a parent? Are they your priority yet you have a life of your own? Loving your kids shouldn't be a hardship. Meeting someone new and moving on in your love life shouldn't be one either. IF you meet a woman who has an issue with you having kids, then that isn't someone worthy of your time but that's a whole different thing.
If you only want a physical relationship, that's fine... in that case your kids shouldn't be brought into the deal anyway.
On the other hand, don't confuse the woman. Stop sending mixed messages. When you say you HAVE to do something, you give the impression that you would rather not do it and when it's given as a reason for not being with her... well, it seems you're saying you'd rather be with her IF you could.
Not getting involved emotionally means keeping a certain intimate distance. It does not include you dumping your problems on her. Get a therapist if that's what you need.
Emotions are not just romantic, clingy feelings, they're all emotions. Talking about your kids, your family, making plans for your future, asking opinions about those things are not just the basics. It's getting involved. Asking a woman to give you her time, her concern and her body then drawing a line when she asks for the same is being a selfish jackass. Admit it to yourself at least.
I like to say, everyone has baggage, just don't ask me to carry yours. My hands are already full.
Soooooo... on a celebration note, being single means no Commitment Drama, real or made up. Being single means I can hang out with a guy and I can draw the line... This is a NO Dumping Zone!
Blessed Be
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Celebrating Singledom
Last week I went on a second date with a guy we’ll call “Phil”. The important thing about this particular date… afterwards I wanted to celebrate my “singleness”.
Look, I’m 41 years old. I’ve been in love and I’ve been loved. I’ve been engaged more than once. I’ve been proposed to more times than I’ve accepted. Yet, I’m still single. This isn’t me complaining about not having found “the one”. This isn’t a male bashing thing. It isn’t a “down on love” thing either. This is about me not putting the rest of my life on hold waiting for love. Plain and simple, I want to enjoy where I am right now, in this moment.
Right now I will focus on me and all the wonderful things about having ME all to myself.
During the three weeks we’d gotten to know each other, Phil brought up feelings that reminded me what it felt like to really like someone again. A guy who could take care of himself, who was smart, funny and wasn’t completely broke. He also brought up feelings in me of fierce determination not to settle. His rude comments and uninformed observations on that second date and afterwards could have easily added to my insecurities yet it didn’t. It brought out a side of me I thankfully didn’t have to look far to find. I chose to explain to him my thoughts, actions and even my belief system NOT because I need to defend anything I do but to point out his judgmental attitude. He had a sense of superiority that was quiet obnoxious. He bragged about his education and his love of reading and learning as much as he could, what I found though… he was very ignorant about almost anything having to do with social interaction. He also, couldn’t handle someone knowing something he didn’t; hence I would say he doesn’t really love learning.
I don’t want to dwell too long on this complete dud of a guy but I will thank him (here and not in person) for helping me come to the realization that I am pretty happy about the important choices in my life. I suffer from depression and so sometimes it’s hard for me to remember my blessings. What I try to do is when I’m feeling positive about myself and all that surrounds me I write it down, this way when I need to find my way again, I read in my own words what I am grateful for.
This “Celebration of Singledom” hopefully will remind me of why I have chosen not to settle for someone unworthy of my love.
I am not looking for perfection. There is no such thing when it comes to describing another human. None of us are perfect. I’m certainly not perfect nor would I want to be, what would I strive for if that were the case?
No, what I’m looking for is someone respectful of who I am. Someone who can make me laugh. Someone who is dependable. Oh, the list can go on but for now at least, I’ll keep that between me and the Gods.
So… here is one of the items on my list of favorite “Singledom” things.
Having Male Friends
One of the conversations I had with “Phil” that night had to do with having friends of the opposite sex. He felt that when a couple got engaged or married they should no longer keep friends of the opposite sex. That upset me. I have several male friends and I wouldn’t want to give them up. If the friendship begins to fade, as friendships do sometimes, that’s different. But to think I would be expected to end friendships simply because of gender.
Being asked to end friendships on any basis isn’t a healthy thing between lovers. If a person you’re in a romantic relationship with doesn’t want you to be friendly with anyone of the opposite sex, it’s a given they don’t want you to stay friends with your exes. I, myself, still keep in touch with ex-boyfriends. It comes down to insecurity and little or no trust. Those are serious issues that have very little to do with you. Where would the requests end? What about gay, lesbian, bi-sexual or transgender friends? How about the friends who still know your exes? How about your single friends? When will they feel secure enough?
I know that friends, real friends, are hard to find. Friends are a second family. Friends are the people who sometimes know more about you than your blood relatives do. I have survived many lows in my life with the help of my friends; often, those lows were heartaches due to broken relationships. My male friends have been there just as often as my female friends. Why would my partner ask me to let go of a support system that has helped me become the person they love. Yes, there are “friends” that sometimes aren’t healthy for us to keep in our life, in that case, gender isn’t the problem and it still shouldn’t be dictated when it’s time to let them go.
I will not accept anyone putting limitations on who I call friend. So, I am going to enjoy not defending any of my friendships; male, female, gay, straight or an ex.
Blessed Be )O(
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
The Myth of Lisa
I have to give credit to an old friend. He came up with this character based on me years ago that instantly hit home. He described me in a way I hadn't known how to do myself. He knew me very well and so it's no surprise that he could pinpoint things I didn't fully understand.
So, although the person I'm writing about is my own character, he did clearly define who I was on a spiritual level and I used the basic characteristics he saw in me.
Blessed Be )O(
So, although the person I'm writing about is my own character, he did clearly define who I was on a spiritual level and I used the basic characteristics he saw in me.
Lisa was born to Hilda the Caring and Ray the Addicted.
Lisa was beyond her years from the very beginning. She was born with triple sight which was both a gift and a curse. When looking through her left eye she could see the past. When looking through her right eye she could see the future. When she had both eyes open she was fully in the present. Never knowing how or why she knew the things she did, Lisa lived with the hope that someday she would come to understand both.
Lisa was loved by everyone around her; surrounded by her parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and all of their friends. Hugs and kisses were how she woke each morning and how she was put to bed each night. She was quick to learn too. Lisa talked from an early age, never crawled but went straight to walking and taught herself to care for others as well.
At about the age of six things changed, her father went off on his own leaving his daughter and wife behind. Lisa was terribly sad but still had lots of people who loved her. Soon her mother also went off on adventures. Hilda always came back for Lisa, sometimes taking her on adventures too, sometimes leaving her safely behind. There were lots of people for Lisa to stay with. She was taken care of by her extended family, a cast of characters who were funny, passionate and gifted in the magical arts.
In time Hilda remarried a man named Edward the Stern; she adopted his niece and bore him a daughter. This allowed for Hilda to bring Lisa back with her permanently, to Edward’s family kingdom, which was headed by Alex the Feared. Lisa again was very sad about the changes in her life but she very much loved her new sisters and they loved her. She could not say the same for Edward. He was very mean, never calling her by name and most times went out of his way to point out her flaws and mistakes. In fact, all of Edwards’s family did this. Lisa was not of the right parentage, she was not the right color, and she was not pretty or smart enough. She was discouraged from being creative and independent and her gifts were not to be used. This was all very shocking to her. Until this point in her young life she had been loved unconditionally. She had been praised for her individuality and intelligence. In this kingdom of Darkness she was lost and lonely, and didn’t understand why it was happening.
She was still allowed to visit her old home and loved ones, often bringing back magical tools of protection to keep her safe. Though, it wasn’t enough to keep her strong while living in her stepfather’s kingdom. Eventually she could not continue to fight the arrows of poison shot through her on a regular basis. Spiritually wounded she walked the edges of darkness, reaching out to a few people on her path that gave her bits of light. They helped remind her of whom she once was and who she might be again one day. Of course, she still did have her mother’s love and that of her sisters but they were under the kingdoms rule. They could never outwardly defend her and so she was basically on her own. She stopped trying to do anything right. She didn’t try to learn because of course she would never be smart. She didn’t try to make friends because who would like her? She didn’t try to laugh because that caused more attacks. Daily the poison seeped into her very bones and she was so sick that her body wouldn’t take in the nutrients to sustain it properly. The poisons were literally eating her from the inside out. Her triple sight is really the only thing that kept her alive; reliving the past and looking to a better future.
When Lisa became of age she was free to roam the lands on her own, which she did. The poisons were still very much inside of her and there was no light bright enough to see her path clearly. Yet she continued searching, trusting her instincts, sometimes simply feeling her way along. The further she left the dark kingdom behind the more her vision cleared. Each step gave her confidence and she could feel her true self slowly coming back to the surface. She was able to reunite with her family again in a new palace and they were stronger together. The love and support they shared gave her more insight and hope. The road became brighter and easier to navigate yet, there were also many disappointments. There were false friendships and lovers along the way. People who wanted the gifts Lisa had inside yet left when she shared her secrets. The same people would always return at some point. After false promises to do right by her, they would again take bits of her magic and leave. At another time on her journey she would meet with them again, most times at their insistence. Often they left behind fortunes, families and demeaned themselves for more of what she had. They wanted her but could never stay for long. Thankfully Lisa learned to revisit the memories but refused to relive them. She realized the poison that still lingered within her helped in the sense that no other poison could settle for long. Lisa didn’t understand why people came and went only to return again but she knew it had to do with her gifts. So, she set out to learn everything she could about her triple sight. She vowed to find others who were different and who could teach her what she needed to know; others who would stay in her life because they too lived gifted, magical lives.
Though always different than those around her, Lisa knew she was not alone in the world. She could feel the others who knew instinctively that there was something more. Special people like herself who walked a spiritual path and had survived poisons of their own.
One day Lisa went to a celebration for those very same people. She wanted to feel what it was like to be accepted and not have to explain herself to anyone. At this celebration she was drawn to a woman who talked to her like no one had in years. This woman gave Lisa hope that she could find a spiritual home. A place where there was knowledge, creativity, passion and friendship. She was given a key to this place and that key opened a gate. The gate guarded a kingdom of Lisa’s own. A kingdom she could share with anyone she chose. Rooms that led to everything she ever wanted, family, friends, knowledge, love, magic. It would take a lifetime to open each door but they were there and they were hers.
Lisa still wanders the halls in search of her full self and offers free tours daily for those who may be looking for a similar place.
Blessed Be )O(
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Eighth Avenue Station
One day I was waiting for the L train at the Eighth Avenue station in Manhattan, which happens to be the last stop in the downtown direction. While I waited on the platform for the next Brooklyn bound L train to arrive I saw an Orthodox Jewish man about two train cars away, also waiting. The train pulled in. Though there were several other people also waiting, there was no one else in the car I sat in. I knew I had a few minutes at least before the train would leave the station since it would wait until the next train pulled onto the opposite track. I sat near the door and started reading my book. A second later the Jewish man stepped onto the car. He wore the typical outfit; Black coat, pants, hat, shoes and white shirt. And, lets not forget the peyes, the curls worn on the sides of the head, almost like sideburns. He entered through the door nearest to me and asked if I knew where he could get a drink nearby. I was surprised because they only speak to women in public when they really have to and even then they rarely look them in the eye. Here he was looking directly at me and asking me a question that I don't really think would be considered "must have" information.
I told him he could go upstairs and on 14th street there were lots of bars. He thanked me and stepped off the train. I laughed and went back to my book.
He then stepped back onto the train and asked if he would be able to meet women there. I couldn't believe it, what the hell... anyway, I told him I was sure he could.
He thanked me and again started to step off the train.
AGAIN... I laughed and just before I could start reading, he stepped back on and asked, "Would you like...???" I looked him straight in the eye and yelled, "NO! I wouldn't be interested!" He bowed to me a bunch of times quickly while walking out backwards, repeating, "Okay, Okay... Sorry."
I was laughing about his reaction and the fact that he was trolling for women on the train platform. But, didn't he realize how unsafe and dangerous that could be? I shook my head and went back to reading.
It was 100% a New York Moment!
So funny and yet so sick!
I told him he could go upstairs and on 14th street there were lots of bars. He thanked me and stepped off the train. I laughed and went back to my book.
He then stepped back onto the train and asked if he would be able to meet women there. I couldn't believe it, what the hell... anyway, I told him I was sure he could.
He thanked me and again started to step off the train.
AGAIN... I laughed and just before I could start reading, he stepped back on and asked, "Would you like...???" I looked him straight in the eye and yelled, "NO! I wouldn't be interested!" He bowed to me a bunch of times quickly while walking out backwards, repeating, "Okay, Okay... Sorry."
I was laughing about his reaction and the fact that he was trolling for women on the train platform. But, didn't he realize how unsafe and dangerous that could be? I shook my head and went back to reading.
It was 100% a New York Moment!
So funny and yet so sick!
Friday, October 29, 2010
The Set-Up Part - 2
Off I was on my date.
Bob and I left my apartment to go out to dinner. I was grateful he parked in front of my building so we didn't have far to walk. Not a word was said in my hallway, walking down my steps, heading towards the car. He didn't even tell me which car was his, he just pointed. I waited for him to unlock the door for me and the very first thing I see is a large, black, rubber rat sitting on the dashboard. The kind people use around Halloween as decoration but it wasn't Halloween. It had white teeth and little nubby claws in front of his sneering rat face. This would be a great moment to explain how much I hate... yes, hate rodents. They make me want to scream and run around in circles. I will jump on furniture to get away from them. I have even cried on occasion. My mother thinks it started when my uncle thought it was funny to turn his leather gloves inside out and toss them at me. Nothing like nice, relaxing torture to pass the time.
Back to Bob... I looked at him and said I would not get in the car with that thing in there. He laughed... Not a good thing to laugh at your date, especially if that date is ME. I repeated I would NOT get in the car. He said he always has it in his car. Like that's supposed to change my mind. I wasn't asking him to take down a sacred photo of Jesus or something. It was a nasty rubber rat!
Finally, annoyed, he took the rat and tossed it in the backseat. I said the backseat wasn't far enough away. He asked what he was supposed to do with it. I said the trunk would be okay. I was just trying to be difficult, hoping he refused, this way I could go back upstairs and do ANYTHING else but go on this date. But, instead he took the rat and put it in the trunk. I get in the car and the ceiling, the sun visors and the dash are covered in buttons and stickers. Each quoting Beavis and Butthead, Wayne's World and Bart Simpson. He was in his thirties. I laughed along with each of those characters at times too. But, This was not normal.
It was going to be a long night...
Bob and I left my apartment to go out to dinner. I was grateful he parked in front of my building so we didn't have far to walk. Not a word was said in my hallway, walking down my steps, heading towards the car. He didn't even tell me which car was his, he just pointed. I waited for him to unlock the door for me and the very first thing I see is a large, black, rubber rat sitting on the dashboard. The kind people use around Halloween as decoration but it wasn't Halloween. It had white teeth and little nubby claws in front of his sneering rat face. This would be a great moment to explain how much I hate... yes, hate rodents. They make me want to scream and run around in circles. I will jump on furniture to get away from them. I have even cried on occasion. My mother thinks it started when my uncle thought it was funny to turn his leather gloves inside out and toss them at me. Nothing like nice, relaxing torture to pass the time.
Back to Bob... I looked at him and said I would not get in the car with that thing in there. He laughed... Not a good thing to laugh at your date, especially if that date is ME. I repeated I would NOT get in the car. He said he always has it in his car. Like that's supposed to change my mind. I wasn't asking him to take down a sacred photo of Jesus or something. It was a nasty rubber rat!
Finally, annoyed, he took the rat and tossed it in the backseat. I said the backseat wasn't far enough away. He asked what he was supposed to do with it. I said the trunk would be okay. I was just trying to be difficult, hoping he refused, this way I could go back upstairs and do ANYTHING else but go on this date. But, instead he took the rat and put it in the trunk. I get in the car and the ceiling, the sun visors and the dash are covered in buttons and stickers. Each quoting Beavis and Butthead, Wayne's World and Bart Simpson. He was in his thirties. I laughed along with each of those characters at times too. But, This was not normal.
It was going to be a long night...
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Unbroken Love
I've fallen a bit behind with my blogging lately. Lots of wonderful but time consuming things going on and so here is something I wrote about a year ago. It's one of my favorites though.
Enjoy!
I saw him and immediately, I knew he was important. I didn’t know details like his name, his age or where he lived… I don’t know how, but I knew him.
Looking into his eyes, I didn’t notice their color, only the light of his spirit shining there.
I was dizzy from all the emotions running through me.
Images started to race in my mind.
Were they memories or wishes?
Were they mine, were they his, ours?
First, A young woman looking out a window, daydreaming. A man walks towards the house. He’s very handsome, wearing a heavy coat and high boots. He stops and puts down the large bag he was carrying. He just wants to stand there and admire her. At first she doesn’t notice him. She’s lost in her thoughts. Then, almost in slow motion she turns, sensing his presence. There he was, standing just beyond the trees. Her heart skips a few beats before she finds herself running out to him. He lifts her up into his arms and kisses her. She knows this man, the taste of his lips, the smell of his skin, the strength of his arms holding her.
Her heart beats in rhythm with mine.
Suddenly, a new image comes to me.
A different woman, she’s lying next to her lover; Skin against skin. Her head resting on his chest, long dark hair draped across the arm that is wrapped around her. Her small hand over his heart. They’re laughing, happy to be together. No one and nothing else matters.
Again, everything… his taste, his smell, his touch are so familiar.
Her love for him fills my heart.
Another image…
Another woman…
She’s sitting on rocks by the ocean, watching the waves. She’s wishing for a way to be with her love. What if she stowed herself with his cargo? What if she dressed as a man? She could work alongside him. If she could swim the ocean like a mermaid, watch over him and keep him safe. At night she could grow her legs and go to him, sleep in his arms. All these fantastic dreams of hers were all she had until he returned, if he returned.
I feel her sorrow.
Suddenly, the nameless man in front of me, the man I knew nothing about. The man I’ve never seen before walks towards me.
He shakes my hand and I see… it’s him.
The man standing by the trees, the one lying in bed, the one traveling the ocean, all the same. He looks different; but I know him. I know what his lips will taste like, what his skin will smell like and what his arms will feel like around me.
Today he is a stranger yet his spirit I’ve known for lifetimes.
What this meeting means, who knows? Are we destined to love again?
Is this just a reminder of how love endures?
Are we checking in? Letting the other know that we are alive and well on this earth, continuing this amazing journey.
What my heart tells me is that this is not the end of our story.
If not now, another time, another place, our hearts will remember and we’ll find each other once again. We always do.
Enjoy!
I saw him and immediately, I knew he was important. I didn’t know details like his name, his age or where he lived… I don’t know how, but I knew him.
Looking into his eyes, I didn’t notice their color, only the light of his spirit shining there.
I was dizzy from all the emotions running through me.
Images started to race in my mind.
Were they memories or wishes?
Were they mine, were they his, ours?
First, A young woman looking out a window, daydreaming. A man walks towards the house. He’s very handsome, wearing a heavy coat and high boots. He stops and puts down the large bag he was carrying. He just wants to stand there and admire her. At first she doesn’t notice him. She’s lost in her thoughts. Then, almost in slow motion she turns, sensing his presence. There he was, standing just beyond the trees. Her heart skips a few beats before she finds herself running out to him. He lifts her up into his arms and kisses her. She knows this man, the taste of his lips, the smell of his skin, the strength of his arms holding her.
Her heart beats in rhythm with mine.
Suddenly, a new image comes to me.
A different woman, she’s lying next to her lover; Skin against skin. Her head resting on his chest, long dark hair draped across the arm that is wrapped around her. Her small hand over his heart. They’re laughing, happy to be together. No one and nothing else matters.
Again, everything… his taste, his smell, his touch are so familiar.
Her love for him fills my heart.
Another image…
Another woman…
She’s sitting on rocks by the ocean, watching the waves. She’s wishing for a way to be with her love. What if she stowed herself with his cargo? What if she dressed as a man? She could work alongside him. If she could swim the ocean like a mermaid, watch over him and keep him safe. At night she could grow her legs and go to him, sleep in his arms. All these fantastic dreams of hers were all she had until he returned, if he returned.
I feel her sorrow.
Suddenly, the nameless man in front of me, the man I knew nothing about. The man I’ve never seen before walks towards me.
He shakes my hand and I see… it’s him.
The man standing by the trees, the one lying in bed, the one traveling the ocean, all the same. He looks different; but I know him. I know what his lips will taste like, what his skin will smell like and what his arms will feel like around me.
Today he is a stranger yet his spirit I’ve known for lifetimes.
What this meeting means, who knows? Are we destined to love again?
Is this just a reminder of how love endures?
Are we checking in? Letting the other know that we are alive and well on this earth, continuing this amazing journey.
What my heart tells me is that this is not the end of our story.
If not now, another time, another place, our hearts will remember and we’ll find each other once again. We always do.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The Imitator
I met Ethan on Match.com. We spoke briefly twice before deciding to meet up for dinner. He was okay looking in his profile photos. He certainly was good looking enough when weighed against his information. Only three years younger than me.
Never married.
No children.
Lives alone.
Sales rep for publishing company.
Worked at his company for 13 years.
Has a car.
Comes into the city from Westchester several times a month.
He called when he said he would.
He balanced texting with actual phone conversations.
Called the day of our date to make sure everything was still going along as planned.
He was 10 minutes early getting to the restaurant.
He wore a nice short sleeved, navy blue and beige, collared shirt.
Dark blue jeans.
Comfy looking brown Merrill's.
I was impressed with the place he chose.
Nice Italian restaurant. Not too fancy but certainly not shabby.
Wow... maybe things were looking up for me... right?
WRONG!!!!!!
Okay, lets start with him making a comment about "gay men". I quickly said that I have gay friends, figuring I should just put that out there so that he wouldn't go any further with anything derogatory, if that was his intention. I still don't know what the gist of his "gay man" story was because he turned the next half hour, at least, into an "infomercial" on EVERY gay person (mostly male) he knew. In case that wasn't enough, he told me about EVERY gay person his friends and family knew. I think he was trying to prove he wasn't homophobic. His point was not made.
Just in case all of that wasn't clear enough for me, he then started to imitate many of them, I guess to show me the degree of "gay" they were. Some spoke like macho men. Some spoke very feminine. Many, for some reason, had a lisp. Apparently, a sure sign of a really gay man is whether he lisps or not.
I kept looking around just hoping that no one near us was gay. I mean, it was embarrassing enough for anyone to be listening, thinking I was into this conversation but having a gay person listening just made me feel like shit.
You're probably wondering why I didn't do something... well, I did. I tried several times to change the subject. Each time he was quiet but I'm not sure he was really listening because the moment I stopped talking he would say, "Oh, umm and then..." and would continue with more gay impressions.
When I finally got him to change the subject, which honestly I think had more to do with him running out of gay stories than me finding another topic, he started talking about his favorite TV shows.
You would think me being a television junkie, this would be a great thing to talk about... WRONG again!
He watches reality TV. Now, I can't stand reality shows but there is still some respect for people who watch, say... cooking competition shows or Project Runway. No, Ethan watches Jersey Shore, Celebrity Rehab and whatever shows feature Twisted Sister and Gene Simmons.
Even when I said I didn't really watch reality shows he tried to convince me to give it a try. He explained that he watched them KNOWING how horrible they were. This is when he started to do his imitations again. This time of Snookie, the Situation and Angelina. Let's not forget the drunken, sad, mess that Jeff Conaway (Grease's Kenickie) turned out to be.
By the way, for some reason they all sounded very much like lisping gay men.
Again, I tried to change the subject... which somehow only led to sports. Another taboo topic for me. I'm well aware that more so than not, people like sports of some kind. I know enough to keep a conversation going and so that's what I did. I told him what sporting events I've been to. Basketball, Baseball, College football... MISTAKE!
He took over by telling me specific games... like, Knicks and every team he's seen them play against, he did the same for the Nets, the Rangers, the Giants, the Jets, Mets, Yankees... you get the point.
Of course, he then had to tell me all of the ballparks and arena's he's been to.
Not just Tri-state area ones either.
Nooo... we're talking Fenway, Wrigley Field, Yadda, Yadda, Yadda.
ARGH!
I NOTICEABLY kept looking at my watch... he didn't get the hint AT ALL.
I couldn't believe I wore such a hot dress for this date. Such a waste.
I took extra care with my makeup AND my hair. I smelled yummy too.
Finally! The check came.
He paid for the whole thing... didn't hold back on a tip either. Nice... Okay, maybe I was being too hard on the guy. Maybe he was just nervous. After all, he's not the only person who watches really bad TV and I admit, I'm out of the loop with sports.
So, when he asks if I want to go get a drink and talk for a bit, I say yes.
WHY? WHY? WHY did I do that?
We ended up in a bar with a very drunk Firefighter named Jim who was mourning 9/11. There was a woman there with a Pug who had his own bar stool, a short guy with a really bad fake tan, the guys albino girlfriend, a waitress who kept spraying Windex on everything and wiping them down and a bartender from Dublin, named Glen, who noticeably wasn't wearing any underwear.
Yes, people... you can't make this stuff up.
Fireman Jim sang very loudly and very much off key to every song that came on and when Glen put on Danke Schoen, there was no stopping the chorus of voices. Danke Schoen is apparently a favorite at this place. I was in awe of everything going on but Ethan??? He just kept talking like nothing.
We were past him telling me every detail about a movie called FATSO with Dom Deluise, especially the "funny parts", which was the whole movie in his opinion. I'm sure it is very funny, I like Dom Deluise but Ethan wasn't convincing me of that.
After his movie review, he started talking about music. I didn't add much because I was afraid maybe he would start singing too. With a lisp maybe!
Anyway, he was telling me about all the famous people he's met, from athletes, to comedians, to musicians. He mentioned Kiss, so I added that I met Paul Stanley, twice. This was in the 80's when he was still gorgeous. I was so excited back then because the second time we met he remembered me.
Good story, right?
Uh, Oh... Ethan ran with this too.
He started imitating Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley. Paul Stanley had a lisp. I told him I didn't remember him speaking that way and so, he then started to imitate Paul Stanley meeting me... both times!
I don't know... maybe he thought it would trigger a memory. It didn't!
I couldn't take it! The boring conversation, the terrible singing, the butt crack... I just wanted to get out of there. I said, "I'm sorry, I really need to get up early. I have to get going."
He quickly got up, paid and we left.
He insisted on driving me home. I kept repeating that I lived in THE ghetto, not minding at all if I paid for a cab all the way back uptown but he was turning it all into yet another LONG conversation, so again... I said yes. We then proceeded to go to three, YEP, three different car garages because he didn't remember where he parked. This, even after he read the address...
At this point I'm really starting to wonder, am I being punked? This has got to be a Frackin' joke!
Okay... we get to the car. He drives me to Harlem. We stop at a red light and he makes sure his door is locked. I laugh and said I'd warned him earlier, he did not have to drive me home.
We get to the front of the building NEXT DOOR to my building, he turns off the car, turns towards me and licks his lips... Nooooooooooo, I can't do this. Not even a quickie. Nope, can't do it. So, I lunge forward, kiss the air by his cheek and say, "Okay, thank you. Get home safe."
I saw the look of disappointment on his face but I just wanted to get home.
I was DONE!
In the infamous words of Roberto Duran, "No Mas."
Never married.
No children.
Lives alone.
Sales rep for publishing company.
Worked at his company for 13 years.
Has a car.
Comes into the city from Westchester several times a month.
He called when he said he would.
He balanced texting with actual phone conversations.
Called the day of our date to make sure everything was still going along as planned.
He was 10 minutes early getting to the restaurant.
He wore a nice short sleeved, navy blue and beige, collared shirt.
Dark blue jeans.
Comfy looking brown Merrill's.
I was impressed with the place he chose.
Nice Italian restaurant. Not too fancy but certainly not shabby.
Wow... maybe things were looking up for me... right?
WRONG!!!!!!
Okay, lets start with him making a comment about "gay men". I quickly said that I have gay friends, figuring I should just put that out there so that he wouldn't go any further with anything derogatory, if that was his intention. I still don't know what the gist of his "gay man" story was because he turned the next half hour, at least, into an "infomercial" on EVERY gay person (mostly male) he knew. In case that wasn't enough, he told me about EVERY gay person his friends and family knew. I think he was trying to prove he wasn't homophobic. His point was not made.
Just in case all of that wasn't clear enough for me, he then started to imitate many of them, I guess to show me the degree of "gay" they were. Some spoke like macho men. Some spoke very feminine. Many, for some reason, had a lisp. Apparently, a sure sign of a really gay man is whether he lisps or not.
I kept looking around just hoping that no one near us was gay. I mean, it was embarrassing enough for anyone to be listening, thinking I was into this conversation but having a gay person listening just made me feel like shit.
You're probably wondering why I didn't do something... well, I did. I tried several times to change the subject. Each time he was quiet but I'm not sure he was really listening because the moment I stopped talking he would say, "Oh, umm and then..." and would continue with more gay impressions.
When I finally got him to change the subject, which honestly I think had more to do with him running out of gay stories than me finding another topic, he started talking about his favorite TV shows.
You would think me being a television junkie, this would be a great thing to talk about... WRONG again!
He watches reality TV. Now, I can't stand reality shows but there is still some respect for people who watch, say... cooking competition shows or Project Runway. No, Ethan watches Jersey Shore, Celebrity Rehab and whatever shows feature Twisted Sister and Gene Simmons.
Even when I said I didn't really watch reality shows he tried to convince me to give it a try. He explained that he watched them KNOWING how horrible they were. This is when he started to do his imitations again. This time of Snookie, the Situation and Angelina. Let's not forget the drunken, sad, mess that Jeff Conaway (Grease's Kenickie) turned out to be.
By the way, for some reason they all sounded very much like lisping gay men.
Again, I tried to change the subject... which somehow only led to sports. Another taboo topic for me. I'm well aware that more so than not, people like sports of some kind. I know enough to keep a conversation going and so that's what I did. I told him what sporting events I've been to. Basketball, Baseball, College football... MISTAKE!
He took over by telling me specific games... like, Knicks and every team he's seen them play against, he did the same for the Nets, the Rangers, the Giants, the Jets, Mets, Yankees... you get the point.
Of course, he then had to tell me all of the ballparks and arena's he's been to.
Not just Tri-state area ones either.
Nooo... we're talking Fenway, Wrigley Field, Yadda, Yadda, Yadda.
ARGH!
I NOTICEABLY kept looking at my watch... he didn't get the hint AT ALL.
I couldn't believe I wore such a hot dress for this date. Such a waste.
I took extra care with my makeup AND my hair. I smelled yummy too.
Finally! The check came.
He paid for the whole thing... didn't hold back on a tip either. Nice... Okay, maybe I was being too hard on the guy. Maybe he was just nervous. After all, he's not the only person who watches really bad TV and I admit, I'm out of the loop with sports.
So, when he asks if I want to go get a drink and talk for a bit, I say yes.
WHY? WHY? WHY did I do that?
We ended up in a bar with a very drunk Firefighter named Jim who was mourning 9/11. There was a woman there with a Pug who had his own bar stool, a short guy with a really bad fake tan, the guys albino girlfriend, a waitress who kept spraying Windex on everything and wiping them down and a bartender from Dublin, named Glen, who noticeably wasn't wearing any underwear.
Yes, people... you can't make this stuff up.
Fireman Jim sang very loudly and very much off key to every song that came on and when Glen put on Danke Schoen, there was no stopping the chorus of voices. Danke Schoen is apparently a favorite at this place. I was in awe of everything going on but Ethan??? He just kept talking like nothing.
We were past him telling me every detail about a movie called FATSO with Dom Deluise, especially the "funny parts", which was the whole movie in his opinion. I'm sure it is very funny, I like Dom Deluise but Ethan wasn't convincing me of that.
After his movie review, he started talking about music. I didn't add much because I was afraid maybe he would start singing too. With a lisp maybe!
Anyway, he was telling me about all the famous people he's met, from athletes, to comedians, to musicians. He mentioned Kiss, so I added that I met Paul Stanley, twice. This was in the 80's when he was still gorgeous. I was so excited back then because the second time we met he remembered me.
Good story, right?
Uh, Oh... Ethan ran with this too.
He started imitating Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley. Paul Stanley had a lisp. I told him I didn't remember him speaking that way and so, he then started to imitate Paul Stanley meeting me... both times!
I don't know... maybe he thought it would trigger a memory. It didn't!
I couldn't take it! The boring conversation, the terrible singing, the butt crack... I just wanted to get out of there. I said, "I'm sorry, I really need to get up early. I have to get going."
He quickly got up, paid and we left.
He insisted on driving me home. I kept repeating that I lived in THE ghetto, not minding at all if I paid for a cab all the way back uptown but he was turning it all into yet another LONG conversation, so again... I said yes. We then proceeded to go to three, YEP, three different car garages because he didn't remember where he parked. This, even after he read the address...
At this point I'm really starting to wonder, am I being punked? This has got to be a Frackin' joke!
Okay... we get to the car. He drives me to Harlem. We stop at a red light and he makes sure his door is locked. I laugh and said I'd warned him earlier, he did not have to drive me home.
We get to the front of the building NEXT DOOR to my building, he turns off the car, turns towards me and licks his lips... Nooooooooooo, I can't do this. Not even a quickie. Nope, can't do it. So, I lunge forward, kiss the air by his cheek and say, "Okay, thank you. Get home safe."
I saw the look of disappointment on his face but I just wanted to get home.
I was DONE!
In the infamous words of Roberto Duran, "No Mas."
Friday, September 10, 2010
Something I learned on 9/11
Tomorrow is the 9th anniversary of the destruction of the Twin Towers.
I still really can't bring myself to write much on what went on internally that day. There are still just too many emotions for me to analyze. The facts are... my mother was in One World Trade, which was the North tower. It was the first building that was hit and the second building to fall.
I can explain step by step where I was and what I was doing when it happened. I can tell you how I tried to calm my grandmother down, when all she kept saying was, "my daughter, my daughter." I can tell you that my sister and I could only comfort each other by phone because she was in Connecticut, at college. I can also tell you that I didn't find out my mother was safe until about 11 a.m.
My experiences on that day, for the most part, are similar to others who were relieved to find out their loved ones were safe. My story isn't really that different from hundreds of others who had to walk the streets of downtown in a daze. Numb. Simply in awe of what was happening all around them.
I remember clearly the people I worried about, the people I wanted to hug and kiss. The ones who meant the absolute world to me. Family members who lived out of state. Old friends. Even co-workers.
I also remember clearly who was thinking of me. Family. Friends. Even old boyfriends called, in the middle of the chaos, to check if I was safe.
But when I'm alone and I think back to a clearly defining moment, it's always the same one. It's the moment I felt terror and comfort at the very same time.
It's the moment I understood, on an emotional level, what unconditional, unselfish love was.
The obvious contrast between my mothers love for me and my fathers.
Earlier in the day, my father was able to reach me at my grandmothers house. He was crying and giving thanks to god that I was safe. There were people in the background cheering because he'd found me. He told me he didn't know what he would have done if I'd been hurt or killed. He'd even called the Red Cross for information and promised god that if I was okay, he would shave his head. This is a very Puerto Rican thing... making "Promesas" to god. It's a promise to sacrifice yourself in some way in order to receive a blessing or miracle of some kind. Often people promise to wear all white for a year or all black, women promise not to cut their hair for a certain period, things like that.
Now, I won't say my father was not being honest with me. I think he was being as honest as he knows how to be. At the time, he really did believe he could lose me.
That is why I tried to ignore the fact that I couldn't remember the last time I'd spoken to him. I tried to ignore that he didn't know where I worked, so he had no idea whether I was in the area of the Trade Center before he went nuts worrying. I tried to ignore that if he had my grandmothers number, which he clearly did because that's how he was able to reach me, then why would he call the Red Cross? And... I really really tried to ignore that he didn't even have a full head of hair to shave. That last part still makes me laugh.
I mean, he hadn't had a full head of hair in decades.
His wife and daughters had been on his case for years to shave the rest of it.
Ahhh, there's humor in any situation if you look for it...
So, this man of god who reads the Bible daily, attends church several times a week and is now a minister who performs weddings, literally thought promising to shave his head was a good deal to make with his creator for my safe return. I'm grateful I was kept safe in spite of that vow.
Now for the contrast...
That afternoon, when I finally fell into my mothers arms, she held me tight and soothed me. She was the one in the building when it was hit but she held me and comforted me. She repeated over and over that she was safe, that she loved me and everything would be okay.
We made it back to her house hours later and made what calls we could to let everyone know how things were going. We ate together. We watched the news. We slept head to foot in her bed.
In the middle of the night we were woken up by low flying planes. Not just any kind of plane but fighter planes. Imagine, jets flying over Queens. We both sat straight up, not knowing whether they were our planes or if we were being attacked again. In one split second we grabbed hands and looked directly into the others eyes. We knew that if it was our time, we were not alone. No drama. No promises. Nothing to prove. It was just us and there was nothing that needed to be said. We were together.
Fear of the unknown then... peace.
And, that was the moment...
I knew the feeling of unconditional, unselfish love.
I still really can't bring myself to write much on what went on internally that day. There are still just too many emotions for me to analyze. The facts are... my mother was in One World Trade, which was the North tower. It was the first building that was hit and the second building to fall.
I can explain step by step where I was and what I was doing when it happened. I can tell you how I tried to calm my grandmother down, when all she kept saying was, "my daughter, my daughter." I can tell you that my sister and I could only comfort each other by phone because she was in Connecticut, at college. I can also tell you that I didn't find out my mother was safe until about 11 a.m.
My experiences on that day, for the most part, are similar to others who were relieved to find out their loved ones were safe. My story isn't really that different from hundreds of others who had to walk the streets of downtown in a daze. Numb. Simply in awe of what was happening all around them.
I remember clearly the people I worried about, the people I wanted to hug and kiss. The ones who meant the absolute world to me. Family members who lived out of state. Old friends. Even co-workers.
I also remember clearly who was thinking of me. Family. Friends. Even old boyfriends called, in the middle of the chaos, to check if I was safe.
But when I'm alone and I think back to a clearly defining moment, it's always the same one. It's the moment I felt terror and comfort at the very same time.
It's the moment I understood, on an emotional level, what unconditional, unselfish love was.
The obvious contrast between my mothers love for me and my fathers.
Earlier in the day, my father was able to reach me at my grandmothers house. He was crying and giving thanks to god that I was safe. There were people in the background cheering because he'd found me. He told me he didn't know what he would have done if I'd been hurt or killed. He'd even called the Red Cross for information and promised god that if I was okay, he would shave his head. This is a very Puerto Rican thing... making "Promesas" to god. It's a promise to sacrifice yourself in some way in order to receive a blessing or miracle of some kind. Often people promise to wear all white for a year or all black, women promise not to cut their hair for a certain period, things like that.
Now, I won't say my father was not being honest with me. I think he was being as honest as he knows how to be. At the time, he really did believe he could lose me.
That is why I tried to ignore the fact that I couldn't remember the last time I'd spoken to him. I tried to ignore that he didn't know where I worked, so he had no idea whether I was in the area of the Trade Center before he went nuts worrying. I tried to ignore that if he had my grandmothers number, which he clearly did because that's how he was able to reach me, then why would he call the Red Cross? And... I really really tried to ignore that he didn't even have a full head of hair to shave. That last part still makes me laugh.
I mean, he hadn't had a full head of hair in decades.
His wife and daughters had been on his case for years to shave the rest of it.
Ahhh, there's humor in any situation if you look for it...
So, this man of god who reads the Bible daily, attends church several times a week and is now a minister who performs weddings, literally thought promising to shave his head was a good deal to make with his creator for my safe return. I'm grateful I was kept safe in spite of that vow.
Now for the contrast...
That afternoon, when I finally fell into my mothers arms, she held me tight and soothed me. She was the one in the building when it was hit but she held me and comforted me. She repeated over and over that she was safe, that she loved me and everything would be okay.
We made it back to her house hours later and made what calls we could to let everyone know how things were going. We ate together. We watched the news. We slept head to foot in her bed.
In the middle of the night we were woken up by low flying planes. Not just any kind of plane but fighter planes. Imagine, jets flying over Queens. We both sat straight up, not knowing whether they were our planes or if we were being attacked again. In one split second we grabbed hands and looked directly into the others eyes. We knew that if it was our time, we were not alone. No drama. No promises. Nothing to prove. It was just us and there was nothing that needed to be said. We were together.
Fear of the unknown then... peace.
And, that was the moment...
I knew the feeling of unconditional, unselfish love.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
The Set Up - Part 1
This is a story about why my mother is no longer allowed to set me up on dates.
Though this person, let's call him Bob, remained a part of my circle of friends and family for years, this one date has always been THE strangest date of them all.
He's a great guy my mother said. I knew from the start that I might regret it but I listened anyway.
He's only a few years older than you. He's never been married. He has a very good job.
He has a nice build, goes to the gym regularly. He isn't really cute but certainly not bad looking.
She then sweetened the deal by saying he had great taste in music and even wrote songs.
I said I'd talk to him.
Our first conversation was strained.
He didn't even attempt to make small talk. His side of the conversation was very Vulcan-like...
Hello. How are you? Would you like to go out? How about Saturday?
Although there were really long pauses between his questions, I'm not quite sure he even heard my answers. I wouldn't have been surprised in the least if he'd written everything down on index cards before calling.
When I asked a question he gave me simple one word answers.
Now, I love to talk but even I was stumped for words. It was basically a one-sided conversation. Again, I'm often okay with that but this was just awkward.
I was hoping he was just very shy and that he would loosen up in person.
The following weekend standing at my front door was a guy I would never have chosen on my own to go out with. What on earth was my mother thinking?
I'm not all about looks but this guy was not attractive in any sense of the word. He was not built. He was top heavy but it wasn't muscle. He looked as if he was holding his stomach in. If he did go to the gym, he obviously only worked out his upper half because his lower body was not in proportion to the top.
And, he definitely had hair plugs.
I sympathized with him considering I have my own issues with hair loss... BUT, the rows of hair could be seen clearly even from my height, which was about ten inches shorter than his.
He was wearing a Hockey jersey tucked into his Khaki's and wore a belt with it. Over that he had on a full length black trench coat. On his feet were a pair of MC boots with spurs attached. Yes... spurs. Like what cowboys wear.
I took a deep breath, shook his hand and off we went... I could hear him "chinking" along as we walked to his car.
Though this person, let's call him Bob, remained a part of my circle of friends and family for years, this one date has always been THE strangest date of them all.
He's a great guy my mother said. I knew from the start that I might regret it but I listened anyway.
He's only a few years older than you. He's never been married. He has a very good job.
He has a nice build, goes to the gym regularly. He isn't really cute but certainly not bad looking.
She then sweetened the deal by saying he had great taste in music and even wrote songs.
I said I'd talk to him.
Our first conversation was strained.
He didn't even attempt to make small talk. His side of the conversation was very Vulcan-like...
Hello. How are you? Would you like to go out? How about Saturday?
Although there were really long pauses between his questions, I'm not quite sure he even heard my answers. I wouldn't have been surprised in the least if he'd written everything down on index cards before calling.
When I asked a question he gave me simple one word answers.
Now, I love to talk but even I was stumped for words. It was basically a one-sided conversation. Again, I'm often okay with that but this was just awkward.
I was hoping he was just very shy and that he would loosen up in person.
The following weekend standing at my front door was a guy I would never have chosen on my own to go out with. What on earth was my mother thinking?
I'm not all about looks but this guy was not attractive in any sense of the word. He was not built. He was top heavy but it wasn't muscle. He looked as if he was holding his stomach in. If he did go to the gym, he obviously only worked out his upper half because his lower body was not in proportion to the top.
And, he definitely had hair plugs.
I sympathized with him considering I have my own issues with hair loss... BUT, the rows of hair could be seen clearly even from my height, which was about ten inches shorter than his.
He was wearing a Hockey jersey tucked into his Khaki's and wore a belt with it. Over that he had on a full length black trench coat. On his feet were a pair of MC boots with spurs attached. Yes... spurs. Like what cowboys wear.
I took a deep breath, shook his hand and off we went... I could hear him "chinking" along as we walked to his car.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
When I get bored
Every time I get bored I either shop for ridiculous things I don't need on Amazon.com OR I join a new dating site. I've bought power bars in bulk and paid good money to have illegal immigrants propose to me.
I wish I'd learn from MYSELF.
I can't help it though... I get this overwhelming urge.
I have to do it!
I want, need, have to buy... granola in bulk, "Dummie's Guide" books on every subject I'm even slightly curious about, kitchen gadgets that I'll never use.
I want, need, have to remind myself... why all these men are single, why I'd rather read a book than go on a date, why I was celibate for three years.
I WANT. I NEED. I HAVE TO.
Then... I get a delivery by UPS and "Ugh! I don't have the space for this crap".
I hear a ping, it's my inbox and again, "Ugh! I don't have time for corny lines and 'Latina fetishes'".
It's like I drug. I'm like a fiend.
But, I want it. I need it. I have to have it.
I'm disappointed in myself.
I make a vow... No More!
I'm clean. I don't visit any sites. I keep busy.
One moment of boredom.
One moment of my hormones acting up.
And, I'm off... Just a peek. I'm not going to do anything but look.
And and I'm done!
This vicious vicious cycle!
I'm going to kick this horrible habit one day... I will. I promise myself.
Until then... excuse me while I sign for this package and check my emails.
I wish I'd learn from MYSELF.
I can't help it though... I get this overwhelming urge.
I have to do it!
I want, need, have to buy... granola in bulk, "Dummie's Guide" books on every subject I'm even slightly curious about, kitchen gadgets that I'll never use.
I want, need, have to remind myself... why all these men are single, why I'd rather read a book than go on a date, why I was celibate for three years.
I WANT. I NEED. I HAVE TO.
Then... I get a delivery by UPS and "Ugh! I don't have the space for this crap".
I hear a ping, it's my inbox and again, "Ugh! I don't have time for corny lines and 'Latina fetishes'".
It's like I drug. I'm like a fiend.
But, I want it. I need it. I have to have it.
I'm disappointed in myself.
I make a vow... No More!
I'm clean. I don't visit any sites. I keep busy.
One moment of boredom.
One moment of my hormones acting up.
And, I'm off... Just a peek. I'm not going to do anything but look.
And and I'm done!
This vicious vicious cycle!
I'm going to kick this horrible habit one day... I will. I promise myself.
Until then... excuse me while I sign for this package and check my emails.
A as in Alopecia
I should explain something important about myself considering it figures into many of my stories.
I have Alopecia, which is the medical term for baldness. Alopecia is caused by an autoimmune disease. The hair loss is a symptom of something unknown going wrong in my immune system and it begins to attack the hair follicles. It is not contagious. There are several types of Alopecia, the main three being Alopecia Partialis, Alopecia Totalis and Alopecia Universalis. I have, at different times, suffered from all three types. Alopecia Partialis is when the hair falls out in a patchy pattern on either the scalp, body or both. Alopecia Totalis is when all the hair on the scalp falls out and the body hair remains. Alopecia Universalis is when there is a complete loss of hair over the entire body.
About two years ago my hair started to grow back. I would still find spots of hair loss in places but for the most part, it was back. I hadn't had hair longer than half an inch in thirteen years. I loved it. I would run my fingers through it all the time. I enjoyed having hair that flew around when the wind blew. I loved buying shampoo and hair clips. I loved the way it tickled the back of my neck. I loved bad hair days.
But, I never once took it for granted, knowing it could fall out just as mysteriously and easily as it had grown back.
Alopecia is a medical explanation for what I have.
The other explanation may be jealousy. I believe my father's daughters put a hex on me.
It's okay, you can laugh. If you don't believe in "hexes" or "bad juju" the subject can be pretty silly. The fact is that they dislike me to that degree. I could absolutely see them doing something like this. Outside of actually making me disappear from this earth, doing something that would hurt my looks is exactly their style.
It started when I was 26 years old. It was the day after my father made his wife and their two daughters apologize to me. I'd been visiting for the Thanksgiving holiday when some argument started. I don't remember off-hand what the argument was about but I'm sure it had something to do with my existence. The more I responded with calm and sarcasm the more they wanted to smack me. I could see the anger on their faces. I finally got up and said I was leaving. I didn't care if I stayed in a hotel or sat at the airport until I caught a flight back home, I was out of there. My father agreed to take me to my uncle's house until things calmed down.
The very next morning he picked me up and the only thing I know for sure is that his wife and their daughters apologized for the argument. My father then insisted I stay at the house again. I don't remember my father ever taking a stand on my behalf and so, I stayed.
After my shower the very next morning, his wife found a bald spot the size of a quarter on the back of my head; a very smooth, round spot. Within the next several weeks every hair on my head fell out. Just like that. I wore a hat until I couldn't hide it any longer and finally I bought a wig.
I will not downplay the fact that it is very difficult to live with. I put on a strong front, for one, no one really wants to hear a sob story but mostly because I know there are worse things to suffer from.
Still, some days I can't bare to look at myself in the mirror. Some nights I cry myself to sleep.
I get neck and shoulder cramps from not wanting to move my head much in case my wig moves too. The summers can be unbearable and winter winds scare the hell out of me. Whatever the reason my hair fell out, whatever insecurities I've suffered through because of it... I can't deny it's a part of who I am. It's helped me to rely on inner strength and gut instincts. It's helped me to weed out the wrong people from my life. It's even allowed me an intimacy many don't get to share with others. I think it's helped me to be a better version of who I might have been. I try my best not to question the manner in which this wisdom was given and to simply recognize the blessing of knowing who I am.
Last week I found a smooth, round, quarter size, bald spot on the front of my scalp. There has been more hair on my pillow in the mornings and today, while putting on makeup, wisps of hair fell into the bathroom sink. It's happening again.
This time I may be more prepared but it certainly won't be any easier.
If you're curious about Alopecia... try this site.
http://www.medicinenet.com/alopecia_areata/article.htm
I have Alopecia, which is the medical term for baldness. Alopecia is caused by an autoimmune disease. The hair loss is a symptom of something unknown going wrong in my immune system and it begins to attack the hair follicles. It is not contagious. There are several types of Alopecia, the main three being Alopecia Partialis, Alopecia Totalis and Alopecia Universalis. I have, at different times, suffered from all three types. Alopecia Partialis is when the hair falls out in a patchy pattern on either the scalp, body or both. Alopecia Totalis is when all the hair on the scalp falls out and the body hair remains. Alopecia Universalis is when there is a complete loss of hair over the entire body.
About two years ago my hair started to grow back. I would still find spots of hair loss in places but for the most part, it was back. I hadn't had hair longer than half an inch in thirteen years. I loved it. I would run my fingers through it all the time. I enjoyed having hair that flew around when the wind blew. I loved buying shampoo and hair clips. I loved the way it tickled the back of my neck. I loved bad hair days.
But, I never once took it for granted, knowing it could fall out just as mysteriously and easily as it had grown back.
Alopecia is a medical explanation for what I have.
The other explanation may be jealousy. I believe my father's daughters put a hex on me.
It's okay, you can laugh. If you don't believe in "hexes" or "bad juju" the subject can be pretty silly. The fact is that they dislike me to that degree. I could absolutely see them doing something like this. Outside of actually making me disappear from this earth, doing something that would hurt my looks is exactly their style.
It started when I was 26 years old. It was the day after my father made his wife and their two daughters apologize to me. I'd been visiting for the Thanksgiving holiday when some argument started. I don't remember off-hand what the argument was about but I'm sure it had something to do with my existence. The more I responded with calm and sarcasm the more they wanted to smack me. I could see the anger on their faces. I finally got up and said I was leaving. I didn't care if I stayed in a hotel or sat at the airport until I caught a flight back home, I was out of there. My father agreed to take me to my uncle's house until things calmed down.
The very next morning he picked me up and the only thing I know for sure is that his wife and their daughters apologized for the argument. My father then insisted I stay at the house again. I don't remember my father ever taking a stand on my behalf and so, I stayed.
After my shower the very next morning, his wife found a bald spot the size of a quarter on the back of my head; a very smooth, round spot. Within the next several weeks every hair on my head fell out. Just like that. I wore a hat until I couldn't hide it any longer and finally I bought a wig.
I will not downplay the fact that it is very difficult to live with. I put on a strong front, for one, no one really wants to hear a sob story but mostly because I know there are worse things to suffer from.
Still, some days I can't bare to look at myself in the mirror. Some nights I cry myself to sleep.
I get neck and shoulder cramps from not wanting to move my head much in case my wig moves too. The summers can be unbearable and winter winds scare the hell out of me. Whatever the reason my hair fell out, whatever insecurities I've suffered through because of it... I can't deny it's a part of who I am. It's helped me to rely on inner strength and gut instincts. It's helped me to weed out the wrong people from my life. It's even allowed me an intimacy many don't get to share with others. I think it's helped me to be a better version of who I might have been. I try my best not to question the manner in which this wisdom was given and to simply recognize the blessing of knowing who I am.
Last week I found a smooth, round, quarter size, bald spot on the front of my scalp. There has been more hair on my pillow in the mornings and today, while putting on makeup, wisps of hair fell into the bathroom sink. It's happening again.
This time I may be more prepared but it certainly won't be any easier.
If you're curious about Alopecia... try this site.
http://www.medicinenet.com/alopecia_areata/article.htm
Monday, August 30, 2010
I Thought It Went Great
A tall, handsome, appropriate aged, working guy from OkCupid wanted to meet up for some coffee or tea at Starbucks. We'd been emailing and talking for a full week and neither of us really wanted to take too long trying to figure out if we were compatible.
I had somewhere to be and only had an hour to spare. He didn't want to wait another week to meet me in person. One hour was sufficient anyway to measure one another up.
One hour to see if we even slightly resembled our photos. One hour to see if there was any chemistry. One hour to see if we could carry on a conversation.
He was better looking in person. That was a very pleasant surprise.
We talked about our families.
He's the youngest of his siblings, I'm the eldest.
We talked about what our worst thoughts were about meeting.
He thought I might be mean, I thought he might be a freak.
We talked about our travels.
He, being ex-military, had some interesting stories, me simply being a gypsy spirit had some things to add.
We talked about our hobbies.
He does landscaping, I enjoy writing.
He made me laugh when he got up to use the bathroom and called me while waiting on line. The lady ahead of him was taking awhile so, he thought he'd find out how my date was going.
When I had to leave he asked to walk with me.
Our one hour meeting turned into a five hour date. The next few hours included listening to a book reading, meeting several of my friends, walking through Chinatown and dinner.
He behaved like a perfect gentleman, something I haven't had much experience with in the past few years. He held open doors for me, walked behind me on narrow sidewalks, poured my water, paid for dinner, helped me put on my sweater and even walked me to the train doors to say goodnight.
A man who gives up a seat on the subway to give a woman a hug and kiss goodnight is unheard of.
The evening ended with my call, like he asked, when I got home.
His last words to me were, "We'll talk tomorrow."
Two days later... I get an email.
"Had a nice time. Thank you. See, not a freak."
On his profile, new photos of himself.
Five days later... no new contact.
Apparently, he wasn't a freak.
Just an Ass!
I had somewhere to be and only had an hour to spare. He didn't want to wait another week to meet me in person. One hour was sufficient anyway to measure one another up.
One hour to see if we even slightly resembled our photos. One hour to see if there was any chemistry. One hour to see if we could carry on a conversation.
He was better looking in person. That was a very pleasant surprise.
We talked about our families.
He's the youngest of his siblings, I'm the eldest.
We talked about what our worst thoughts were about meeting.
He thought I might be mean, I thought he might be a freak.
We talked about our travels.
He, being ex-military, had some interesting stories, me simply being a gypsy spirit had some things to add.
We talked about our hobbies.
He does landscaping, I enjoy writing.
He made me laugh when he got up to use the bathroom and called me while waiting on line. The lady ahead of him was taking awhile so, he thought he'd find out how my date was going.
When I had to leave he asked to walk with me.
Our one hour meeting turned into a five hour date. The next few hours included listening to a book reading, meeting several of my friends, walking through Chinatown and dinner.
He behaved like a perfect gentleman, something I haven't had much experience with in the past few years. He held open doors for me, walked behind me on narrow sidewalks, poured my water, paid for dinner, helped me put on my sweater and even walked me to the train doors to say goodnight.
A man who gives up a seat on the subway to give a woman a hug and kiss goodnight is unheard of.
The evening ended with my call, like he asked, when I got home.
His last words to me were, "We'll talk tomorrow."
Two days later... I get an email.
"Had a nice time. Thank you. See, not a freak."
On his profile, new photos of himself.
Five days later... no new contact.
Apparently, he wasn't a freak.
Just an Ass!
Friday, August 27, 2010
What Defines a Date?
I went out with a guy the other night and we began talking about what defined a date.
Women, he said, had too many rules.
Women think a date needs to be a certain length of time spent together.
That a date needs to be declared. One person formally invites another to spend time together.
That a date is when the guy pays for dinner.
That a date usually has some intimate factor, such as "intimate" conversation or physical "intimacy".
Men figure, you meet up and it's a date.
I think when a woman is interested in a man romantically, it's a date.
When a woman is only interested in a man as a friend, it's "hanging out".
We aren't really all that complicated. We just don't want to fracture the fragile male ego so we make it sound very deep and thoughtful. We know that men stop listening when we do that.
Women, he said, had too many rules.
Women think a date needs to be a certain length of time spent together.
That a date needs to be declared. One person formally invites another to spend time together.
That a date is when the guy pays for dinner.
That a date usually has some intimate factor, such as "intimate" conversation or physical "intimacy".
Men figure, you meet up and it's a date.
I think when a woman is interested in a man romantically, it's a date.
When a woman is only interested in a man as a friend, it's "hanging out".
We aren't really all that complicated. We just don't want to fracture the fragile male ego so we make it sound very deep and thoughtful. We know that men stop listening when we do that.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
How to Start?
I don't know where to start.
Which of my sad but true dating stories is worthy of being my very first blog entry?
Hmmmmm
Suggestions, please.
Which of my sad but true dating stories is worthy of being my very first blog entry?
Hmmmmm
Suggestions, please.
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