The First Date – Part 3 (Who’s Your Daddy?)


Ok. Here we go. I promise this is the last one (for now) on this subject.

So when I left, you were just settling into your date. You had done your homework, made a choice, picked an activity and a place. You had polished your shoes and your smile. You were positive and genuine and awesome. With all this going for you, it should go just fine. And I truly hope it does.

But just in case……A few more hints

We Came, We Ate…..Oh Wait – The Bill

In all my years of having first dates, I have ALWAYS done the same thing when it came to the check. And recently I discovered that apparently I have always been wrong. I offer to pay for my portion of the bill. Not split the bill; just my part. Not because of social norm or feminist view. But simply because unless I know that someone enjoyed my company and is actually interested in me, I do not believe they are obligated to fork over any cash on my behalf. It is my opinion that going dutch on the first date is only fair.

Now I don’t insist on it. I just throw it out there. I have had guys wave away my offer and willingly take care of the bill. And I have always been very grateful. What I didn’t understand, and still not sure I do understand, is that it seems my offer does not sit well with the ‘average’ guy. I have learned through a recent conversation amongst friends of mine that many guys consider it an insult if the girl decides to pay. Well NOW you tell me! I have been ticking off guys for years and had no idea!! I have blamed everything from my eye color to my view on Star Wars for the lack of those coveted second dates. I never thought it was linked to just simply trying to be FAIR! Who knew?? Just think of all the money I could have saved! In reality, since it is something I always do, I typically pick an inexpensive item from the menu. It has been said of me that I am a cheap first date.  (I choose to believe the reference is tied to my menu choice.)

I actually do have personal evidence to support this theory, even though at the time I thought he was kidding. I was on a first date with a guy at a local pizza place. Outside on the patio. Everything going quite nicely. Typically I will mention my idea before the actual check arrives so there is no confusion or irritation for the server. On this evening it snuck up on me.  When the waitress asked if we were ready for the check I just smiled nicely and said, “Yes, and please make them separate.” As she walked away, my date raised an eyebrow and gave a slight objection. I countered with my reasoning. He said, “Well, since we split a pizza, why don’t you just pay for all of it. I will pick up the next one.”  Hmmm, a wrinkle. Can’t say I’ve had it put to me like that before. I had backed myself into a corner somewhat. So I agreed. I jokingly said, “Ok, I’ll be the gentleman this time and pay.”  His immediate response ….  “Well, you know, if I were a gentleman, I wouldn’t really let you.” What’s funny is that he in fact DID let me. Yet I still did not pick up on what he was telling me.  Turns out he really wasn’t that nice of a guy and he offered this information willingly right from the start. It should be of no surprise to you (or me actually) that this one was not a keeper.

Finally….When All Else Fails…..The Exit Strategy

Unfortunately there are just times when despite all your good intentions, precautions and plans, things just do not go well. Sometimes they go so un-well that you need to take immediate action. You always have the option to just bite the bullet, admit it is not working for you, get up and walk away. (Another benefit of arriving separately.)  But most of us just do not have the courage to be so blunt. So we turn up our creativity and become the victim of some unfortunate circumstance.  You can remember you left the curling iron on or the dog is still outside. You can develop a sudden gastrointestinal issue. (Just hope your Karma debt is paid, or this will haunt you later.) Or my favorite, discovering you have a new severe allergic reaction to corn. (In order to pull this one off, you actually have had to order corn.)  I had a friend who would get her sister to call exactly one hour after the date started. She would pretend to be the security company for her home calling to say the alarm just went off. You just have to figure out what works for you.  Most people are actually pretty wise to these tactics and take them for what they are; a brush off. I actually only had one instance where a restraining order was required to get my point across.

As I get ready to close out this post I have one other story. It is the tale of the one guy who managed to render me speechless at the end of our first date. This is not accomplished easily, so I thought it worthy to share. 

Let’s call him…. Danny. Now Danny was another one who had just recently moved to the area. (He actually did make it all the way here.) His reason for moving was to help his father with the care of his mother who suffered from Alzheimer’s. Now I have to tell you that scored massive brownie points. I am a softie for a man who loves his momma. We talked on the phone a couple of times and then agreed to meet on a Friday evening around six at a local restaurant.

Five o’clock rolls around on that Friday and I’m heading out the door to go home and change. He sends me a text message to tell me he is already at the restaurant. I thought this was a little odd. To be an hour early. Guess he was super excited to meet me! But I still wanted to go home first, so I told him I would hurry but he would just need to wait a little bit. He was fine with that.

I got there around 5:45. He had a table and was having a drink. He was nice enough. We talked a little, ordered dinner. I got the sense about halfway through the date that he probably wasn’t going to be the one. But it wasn’t horrible, so we just kept talking. About thirty minutes into dinner his phone went off. It was laying on the table face up. It read “Dad”. Of course, I was concerned that something was wrong with his mom. I asked if he needed to take it. He said no, he would call back soon. It worried me a little, but I trusted his judgment. About ten minutes later the phone lit up again; again it was his dad. This time I insisted he answer it. Which he did. Apparently there wasn’t anything amiss at home. His father just had some questions. Where were we? How was it going? Were we close to being finished? It was an odd one sided conversation from my perspective. I have been drilled before about the details of a date, but never during the date and in front of them.

So the conversation went on for a few minutes. I would smile up at him with that ‘go ahead, I am being patient’ look. He ended the call with something along the lines of yes we would be finished in about twenty minutes, then he said good bye. He looked over at me and said, “I’m sorry about that. He just wanted to know how it was going. Plus he wanted to know when he could come back and pick me up to take me home………………………………………..**Crickets**……………………………………………

I literally had nothing to say. Could not come up with anything. Made my head hurt to think about it. I had just been on a date with a guy who had to have his elderly father drop him off and pick him up. Who does that? Of course that was why he was early; he explained while I sat there unable to speak. His dad was already in town and didn’t want to get back out at 6. I’m a fairly understanding girl. I know that things happen or bad decisions cause consequences. But tell me upfront. Call a cab. Hitchhike. Walk. But if you are over the age of fifteen do NOT ask your dad to drive you to your date.

I got up from the table, said I had to go and walked outside. (I even forgot my offer of payment.) He followed and asked if he could walk me to my car. In what probably sounded snarky at the time I told him no that he better stay put so he wouldn’t miss his ride home. The last thing I wanted was to have to take him anywhere! I never heard from him again. (Even though oddly enough he pops up in my ‘people you might know’ on Facebook. Nah, not interested. Go figure.

So there you have it. The good, the bad, the ‘what was I thinking’. But you know what?? Despite all of it, I still enjoy The First Date! It’s like a Do Over every time. You get another shot to make an impression or be impressed. Try something different. Go somewhere new. The possibilities are wide open. And listen, the person on the other side of the table or park bench is most likely just as nervous too. They went through the same processes as you to get there. Cut them some slack if they aren’t perfect. (Just make sure they didn’t bring a parent.)

We all have our own reasons for putting ourselves out there and deciding to try this one more time. Could be you just want to get of the house. Polish up your people skills. Or looking for someone to truly connect with. The reasons are just the catalyst. The experience, now that’s where the adventure starts!

So take a deep breath and dive right in. Have fun. Laugh. Solve the world’s problems together. Go dancing. Go walk a dog. Stare up at the stars. Whether you end up with a long lasting love or a funny story to put on a blog, you will never get a second chance at a first date. So put on your cutest shoes. Spritz on your best smell good. Smile your brightest smile and GO!

Hope Out!



Sidelined (Take Me Out Coach)


Have you ever been trolling right along, wind in your hair, troubles in the rear view. Life is good. Sun is shining. Birds are singing. Then WHAM, out of nowhere there you go, end over end. Landing in a mangled heap of mess. Well I have. And it sucks.

Life can take an unexpected turn from time to time. Throw us off balance. Leave us shaking our head. Maybe you want to ask the question, “Why me?”. Sure, go ahead. Just don’t expect an answer. At least not one that will make you feel better. We often cannot make sense of it. I suppose if we try, we can decide to learn something. Character building. Appreciation for the smooth sail. But man oh man, getting to that point is not an easy task.

We all have in our minds the way we want things to go. We fall into routines. We have patterns. We carve out the path that is comfortable and familiar to us. My path probably doesn’t look like yours, but that’s ok. We do what works for us. What makes sense in our mind. I am not suggesting that we are robots, just simply creatures of habit. Hopefully those habits are healthy, productive, safe.

And while it is probably totally unfair of us, we often expect those closest in our lives to mirror those habits and travel our path, or at least come close. Embrace it. Appreciate it. It can cause us great distress when we realize that is not going to happen, that someone else does not like our path.

People disappoint us. People hurt us. I am willing to suggest that a large percentage of them do not even realize when they do. It isn’t intentional. No malice or aforethought. Just the process of living their life happens to jam up the living of ours.

I was halfway into writing Part 3 of my breezy and somewhat silly First Date series when my world got a bit of that jamming up. It made finishing that post today a little trivial. Some things are not really that serious. Other things are.

Have you ever been so confident you had the right solution? Knew the better choice. That your experience and judgement was worthy of being heard. Yet been totally dismissed?

So what do YOU do when the wind gets knocked out? Gasping for air can only be an option for so long. Action is required. Or is it? Are there certain situations wherein the best thing to do is nothing? How incredibly hard is that? Unless we are extremely disinterested or borderline pacifists (in which case we would not be upset in the first place) we are hard wired to try and ‘fix’ whatever we perceive to be broken. Unfortunately only inanimate objects can be ‘fixed’. (And sometimes even that takes a professional.) Us living, emotional beings; not so much. No matter how confident that we are right, or justified or how valid our point, we cannot force our wishes and wisdom on others. Even at a cost, others will sometimes insist on their own choices and decisions. That’s actually quite ‘normal’. Heaven knows I’ve traveled roads that wise council warned me against.

It is a common human struggle. Many quotes and a Disney movie have been written to advise us to “Let It Go”. So why then do we resist the release of that control? Is it fear that they are wrong and only our advice should be trusted? Or fear that we are wrong and our advice is not welcomed? Whichever the reason, there are occasions when you have to just stop pushing. Just stop.

We have to be willing to give ourselves permission to be disappointed. Not angry. Not cold. Just not exactly what we were hoping for. This allows us to acknowledge we wish things were different while giving the other party permission to blaze their own trail. That trail may run parallel to ours, or it may veer off into a completely different time zone.  The key is keeping an avenue open between the two and not create a dead end.

I apologize if all this sounds a bit cryptic. It is personal for me. But it can cover many scenarios. A romantic partner. A close friend. A family member. We (I) have to release the reins. Life is too short to force feed your ideals onto someone who is intent on creating their own diet. And maybe we should accept that as a good thing. Just like there really isn’t one ‘diet’ that fits all, there isn’t one life choice that fits all. That actually WOULD make us robots.

So now what? We can choose to pray. That is something positive. I pray. For peace. For wisdom. (But not patience. Never pray for patience. You will end up right back here. If you don’t understand what that means, you probably were not raised Pentecostal.) Pray that things work out the way they are supposed to. Even if that means in a way you do not really want. You are only responsible for the outcome of your life. You can contribute in many delightful and wonderful ways into the lives of those around you, but they have to determine their own story. Release their publishing rights.
  
Concentrate on writing your story. Like I am trying to write mine. Some days here, some days just in my heart. Don’t give up. Don’t let the sideline derail your forward progress.  Get back in the game. I need you in the game. You are my inspiration.

Speaking of inspiration, I need to get back to Part 3 so all of you will know how to finish that first date you have been waiting so long to have!


Hope Out!

The First Date ­– Part 2 (Did I Shave My Legs For This?)


When I started this train of thought, I was sure I could put down all of my wisdom in two little standard blog posts. Turns out I have more to say on this subject than I imagined. Probably has something to do with the fact that I’ve been on more first dates than I care to mention. So while this is still Part 2, there will now also be a Part 3! I know, the anticipation is exhilarating.

The last time we met here we discussed steps to take and hopefully pitfalls to avoid when choosing to communicate with someone online. Thus laying the groundwork for the progression to..The First Date. As comfortable as it is to sit all cozy at your home in your PJs and just talk with someone on the phone, you will never know if there is any real connection until you are face to face. (However this should never take place in your home OR in your PJs.) No, you have to take a deep breath, summon your courage and go for it. But before you head out the door, let’s cover some of the basic elements.


Lukewarm Feet….Is There Half a Date?

If, after all the preliminary checks, you are still not comfortable with a full on date, you can start with a Meet & Greet. This is a common term swirling around these days. Maybe it is our addiction to the drive thru or lingering commitment issues, but a lot of us just do not want to invest too much the first time out. Instead we opt for the microwave version. A Meet & Greet is designed to limit your initial exposure and usually takes the form of a cup of coffee somewhere or a very unassuming lunch. I have done both. A lunch works well because I only have an hour. What can go wrong in an hour, right? (I once knocked over a full glass of sweet tea in this guy’s lap. He went to the restroom to clean up and never came back. True story.)


When You’re Ready To Go.….Where to Go??

Whether you choose the quick get-in-and-out version or the whole enchilada, you obviously have to pick a place. It can be quiet and romantic, which is conducive for talking and listening if your goal is to gather more information. It can be loud and crowded if you just want to let loose and have fun. If you would rather gauge their spontaneity and skill sets (plus see how he looks in a pair of jeans) suggest a round of putt putt or go shoot a game a pool. Wherever you pick, make sure it is a public place. Where you arrive separately. I know, I sound like your mother. And most likely this is already in your playbook. But in case there are Online Newbies, please do not give out your address. No matter how sweet they talk on the phone or how appealing a home cooked dinner and movie in front of the big screen TV sounds, this should never be the first date. This is not just for the ladies. And it isn’t even necessarily a safety feature, even though that’s a valid point. No… until you know that this person will not park in your driveway with headlights (or a spotlight) pointing into your living room window playing a Garth Brooks song at full volume at 1 am, do NOT let them know where you live. 


Location Keyed in GPS…..Now To Get Dressed

Picking out what to wear plays a very important role in this operation.

We have already ruled out pajamas.

This is particularly excruciating for me. I have been known to pull out almost EVERYTHING from my closet, try on, toss, and repeat only to end up with the FIRST thing I picked. It is a hard balance for me. I have business clothes, but I’m not going to work. I have dressy clothes, but I’m not going to church. I have fun clothes, but I don’t want to appear to be too much fun; yet. (You get where I’m going with that, right?) I don’t want to look like a 51 year old grandmother. And yet, I am a 51 year old grandmother. So what else is there to look like? I will admit sometimes I probably push the envelope a little. Understated is typically not a word used to describe me. If I were smart, I would probably let one of my classier friends take me shopping for a chic first date outfit. But there’s no need to lead the poor guy on like that. Best to just stick to being me; fur vest, knee socks and all. But this isn’t about me, it’s about YOU. And trust me, you probably don’t want my advice on this subject. Sorry, you’re on your own with this one.


The Conversation – You Mean We Have To Talk?

I am one of those people that can talk, a lot. I have been told more than once that it is easy to have a conversation with me. That makes me smile. The danger in talking too much though is revealing things about yourself sooner than you should. Or the flip side to that is learning things about your date that forever stays stuck in your head. Like the guy who talked about government listening devices in our light bulbs and believing in aliens. Hey, if you don’t look like Tommy Lee Jones, don’t talk Men In Black stuff to me. Ok?

Or the time I had the most perplexing conversation with a police officer I went out with. He was so fine! I mean a great looking guy. Super Sweet. Met my testosterone requirement. Some girls have a height requirement or a W2 requirement. I just like my men to be men! And if we had stopped there and just stared into each other’s eyes, we might still be at that restaurant. But he had to start talking. His first admission to me was being afraid of heights. Well, I’m afraid of heights too, so I can’t really say much to that one. When the talk turned to travel he mentioned that he never stays at a hotel with a door to the outside and even then he always props a chair up against the door knob. Now this is a guy who has a badge and carries a gun for a living! I am a single woman who has traveled alone or with small children, and even I don’t go that far. His list of phobias would fill up an evening on the Discovery Channel. Then the conversation moved on to holidays. He was having trouble with the concept of Thanksgiving vs Christmas. He didn’t understand why Thanksgiving was always on a Thursday yet Christmas was a different day each year. You can call me mean right now, I was teasing him a little at this point. I can’t be with a guy if I am braver AND can read a calendar better than he can. The final straw was when he leaned in (I swear) and asked “This gets me too…when is the Fourth of July?” Right hand in the air, he asked that question. Now look, I get that most likely he didn’t understand how that sounded when it was said out loud. And I will guess he was talking specifically about which day of the week it fell on. But in the moment, in the context of that conversation, it was all I could take. Date over.

Now don’t let these isolated walks down my memory lane stop you from communicating. It is important. And I trust you all to know that the 4th of July falls on, well the 4th of July. So share away. Talk about dreams, ideas, back grounds, goals. You obviously don’t want to start planning a wedding or a nursery, but let them get a real glimpse of you.


Now What?

Enjoy. You shouldn’t need any hand holding here; at least not by me. The scenarios are endless. Every person and every plan is unique. The stage is set, own it and set about to being fabulous. The most important key here is to be yourself. The second most important key is to have FUN. If you are having fun and being yourself then there is no way the right person will not be enthralled. Watching someone truly having a great time is magnetic. They will be drawn close to you and hope the magic will transfer over. Be magical for someone.

Hope Out


PS. Of course there are times when despite our best efforts, things just don’t go well. Stay tuned for Part 3

The First Date – Part 1 (Meet Me or Delete Me)


My first real date was with a guy named Steve. He was a senior in high school and I was a freshman. We passed each other every day right after lunch in the cross walk between the buildings. He was quite tall. I remember he would pass by, look down at me and smile. I felt pretty special being asked out by a senior! We went to Pizza Hut for dinner. Then he took me bowling. I’m not sure, but it may have been my first time. I was terrible!! After bowling we sat in his car in the IGA (grocery store) parking lot and talked. He gave me a cherry lifesaver and then he kissed me. I went home thinking that was the best first date in the history of first dates. (Considering some I’ve had, it still scores as pretty great.)

Things have changed a lot since then. Online dating has added several wrinkles to what used to be a smooth operation. Boy meets girl. Boy asks girl out. Boy picks up girl and off they go. You met through friends or church or work or maybe in the neighborhood. You actually knew someone, just a little, before agreeing to give out your address and spend three hours with them. Had an idea of their personality and charm, or lack thereof. Knew somewhat of their ability to carry on a decent conversation. And of course, you knew what they look liked. Even though those things did not mean they were trustworthy or even a good match, you went in ahead of the curve.

Dating profiles are a bit like a blind date. With a blind date you rely on information from a third party that this person will be a good match for you. You have very little going in except how much you trust this third party. When talking with someone online, THEY are that third party. Their own personal PR firm. They will use clever words, funny phrases and even pictures to sell their most valued commodity; themselves! But creativity runs rampant in those profiles. Reading between the lines is definitely required.

I know my strategies are flawed and not scientifically proven. Understand also, my experiences are obviously from the perspective of the female. I am sure there are plenty of red flags to go around. But before agreeing to the stress of meeting someone, here are some things I have learned in what is called ‘the hard way’.

The most obvious and easiest to avoid is a profile with no picture. And/or he mentions wanting an ‘understanding’ woman. Do not fall victim to this because by nature most of us are understanding. He is married. He wants you to be understanding of the fact that he is not available when you text, call or want to see him and your name will appear in his contact list as Bobby from work.

When he asks for athletic and sporty, he does not want someone to look good in a ponytail and no makeup. It means he will not date a chubby girl. (Don’t get mad at me. I’m just the messenger.) The same thing goes if he says “I like what I like”. What he ‘likes’ is usually a level of beauty that even Photoshop cannot provide.

Almost 100% of them will mention something about ‘no drama’ or being stress free. I still haven’t quite figured that one out. Is there anyone out there that does want drama? It probably means different things to different guys. My guess is that it has a lot to do with nagging, or what they perceive as that. Men do not want a girl who is never satisfied or who is looking to change them. They want to be left in peace. Then stay off of the internet. It is certainly not a peaceful place out there.  

If he says he likes walks on the beach at sunset, just run away. Trust me on that one.

I feel like I should now try and redeem myself a little. First of all, I am not bashing men. As I have stated before, I’m actually quite a fan. I believe that most people do try to put their best foot forward. I am also convinced that the truth is usually right there in front of us. We just don’t want to accept it. We have selective ‘reading’ in addition to hearing. We convince ourselves the red flags are not there.

Do you want an example from my past? Of course you do!

Several years ago I received an email from this guy whose profile headline stated he was soon moving to the area. He had a great profile. He was good looking, well versed. He lived in Missouri with this teenage daughter. His wife had died a couple of years back. He was moving within the next four weeks to start a management job at a local manufacturing firm. We began to communicate and eventually it was daily. He was good. He knew the area. He named streets and restaurants. He even sent me the Google map shot of the house he was going to rent! We talked about the move, his daughter’s transition, finally being able to meet each other. We emailed right up to the day he said the moving trucks were picking up their stuff. His last email to me was the night at the hotel before the final drive into town. I made arrangements to meet him at the house! Guess what? I know, you already figured it out. He never showed up.

It took me a couple of days but I did finally succeed in reaching him and believe it or not he gave me an explanation. It was a despicable one, but probably the most truth he ever told in one sentence. He didn’t live in Missouri, had no kids and was obviously not moving. He was just a lonely guy in Arizona who would pick a town, research it thoroughly, and post a profile stating he was moving there. He would send out emails until some unsuspecting patsy (aka me) would fall for his story. In my defense, it was a good story. BUT there was one red flag that I chose to ignore. We never talked on the phone. He never asked for my number and by the time I got around to asking his, the excuse was sketchy, but I was already in the web so I didn’t resist.

No harm, no foul right? Well I guess. But that experience did give me pause for a long time. Plus I re-evaluated tremendously whom I decided to communicate with. I also made a personal decision to always talk on the phone with anyone I thought I might meet. You can learn a lot about someone in just a short fifteen minute conversation. Inflections, tone, intellect, mindset, certain biases - all work their way through the line. Some of those conversations alone are actually worthy of a separate post!

I didn’t tell that story to scare anyone. It was just an example of how we choose to believe what works best for us in the moment. And while I am currently on a hiatus from online dating, I know some of you are still in the game. I applaud and cheer you on! I do always want you to be cautious and smart. Please do not turn a blind eye to obvious holes in the tapestry. But I also know there are good people out there. I was! You are! And if the goal is to ‘meet’ someone, then by golly, you have to actually get around to meeting them. If not, what is the point of all the time and energy spent?

So this was Part 1. Where you lay the ground work, use your best judgment and say YES to that first date. So now what??? Well in Part 2 we are going to delve into what it takes to pull off a successful one.

(Because, you know, I have such a great track record.)


Trust me, I have a story to tell. 

Hope Out

Love -- (Like (I’m) Over Valentines Entirely)


Raise your hand if you are so very tired of seeing “Every Kiss Begins with Kay” commercials.

Really? You didn’t raise your hand?

Well it’s that time of year again where we are constantly bombarded with reminders that there are the Haves and the Have Nots. (If I have to spell it out for you, you are probably a Haves.)

And it’s not just Kay. How many emails from 1800Flowers and Shari’s Berries have YOU received this week?? (Is it just me?)

Now don’t get me wrong. I am not a hater. I’m sure it’s just sour grapes or sour apples or sour gummi bears. If I were on the receiving end of a pink glitter, satin ribbon wrapped tiny box with a giant K on it, I would probably break out and sing the stupid song myself. If a huge box of chocolate covered anything were delivered to me, I would be delighted. (Except, not at work. I’m really weird about that. Everybody coming up to my desk with a …”Ohhh, who sent YOU those”…like it is shocking to even consider.)  

I mean, sure, being a girl and all I would like to have the full Valentine experience. I have before. I expect to again one day. So I am not bitter or jaded. I truly hope that I don’t sound that way. It is a little disappointing to be single during the ‘love’ season but that disappointment just proves to me that I understand there is something positive to be gained and to strive for. What I do find very sad are the ones who have been so charred and exploited in their relationships that they don’t ever want to try again. Walls high and impenetrable. Not me.

Call me a sucker or call me a romantic, but I LOVE love. That mystical realm where there is one person that can wow all of your senses, light up your world, melt your heart and help with the dishes. While this particular scenario still eludes me, and cynics scoff, I have faith because I know it can and does exist.

I have a dear friend who became a widow a couple of years ago at a fairly young age. I didn’t meet her until afterwards, so I never knew her husband. But I can tell from being around her, the pictures in her home, the expression on her face when she mentions him, THEY had that.  I am sure it wasn’t perfect. I am not delusional just because I use words like mystical realm. I know that hard work is involved. The trick is to have so much fun that it doesn’t feel like work. I am of the opinion they created that level of joy. She has those uplifting memories to help counter the loss. While I am sure Valentines finds her with a mixed bag of emotions, I believe her heart smiles at the ones they did share together through the years.

Then there is divorce. That ugly sickening word. Whether you initiated it or not, it still represents the ripping apart of something that was meant to stay cemented. The years together, the shared experiences; it's like they didn’t exist, but they did. A piece of paper doesn't erase them. You remember them. So there are hard times for awhile. No doubt. And the bombardment from social media and even well intending friends only highlight that void. I am truly sorry if someone reading this is struggling with these emotions this weekend. Remember that flowers, candy and a folded piece of cardboard do not necessarily represent happiness. Everyone’s story is unique. Stay the course. Be fabulous. You are stronger than you think.

And see, being single for over twenty years now, those are both situations that I can only relate to in theory. I talk to my sister about such things. (I bet there are times she wishes I would leave her alone.) She has suggested that my single status is not exactly what bothers me. No, she believes I simply occasionally mourn the ‘loss’ of the life that I planned to have.  (A companion for milestone achievements, those fancy anniversary plates, etc.)  This actually makes sense to me. They say you can’t miss what you never had. I do not know if that is necessarily true.

Of course, I have been in relationships throughout the years, but never again took that BIG step. I’m at peace with that for now. I have a great life with amazing friends and family. I have never regretted settling for someone just to change my Facebook status. (Well…., there was this one guy…..some regrets there. But clock rewinding is not a skill I possess.)

There isn’t a competition for heartache. Divorce is tough. Losing a loving partner is awful. Never having those memories to cherish, well that’s kind of sad too. There are opportunities all around for being dismal. But we have to resist that urge and fight it back. (Boy, I really could use some of those chocolate covered goodies about now.)

I know, I got a little melancholy there for a moment. But sometimes you just do.  

Now .what does a single gal do to celebrate Valentines? Well this gal has a whole host of activities lined up. Going out with friends. Spending time with family. Finding something to cover with chocolate. And while I don’t expect to have a balloon wielding teddy bear presented to me over a candlelit dinner, I’m good. I’m happy. I’m safe. And I am loved. By many.

So to all my beautiful, fascinating, intelligent, loving and extraordinary single friends of mine out there, here’s to you! Have a great day! Be joyful! Be thankful! Do special for yourself. Then do special for someone else. Laugh out loud (really laugh, not the LOL stuff).

Oh yeah...eat some chocolate!!

 
Hope Out

Most Days I'm The Windshield - Today...I'm The Bug


It happens.  I can admit that today (and yesterday) were not my best days. Don’t worry; nothing bad took place. I am still one very blessed and thankful woman. I have no legitimate reason to be gloomy. (Well, the Panthers did lose the Super Bowl, but to be sure that isn’t it.) And yet I am. Blue. Mopey. Out of sorts.  I debated on whether to share this. TMI! It’s a downer. Who wants to be bummed out, right? Just feed us the cheerful stuff Hope!

And it would be great if every day was a cheery and bubbly day. Some people seem to have them. Those people tend to annoy me, but still. Maybe they know a secret. But for me it seems there are times when, despite our best efforts and bravest fronts, we just don’t quite make it to the top of Happy Mountain. The trail runs cold or the wind is too strong. Maybe we dropped our favorite grappling hook. So we stand there looking up, with our hands to shade our eyes, at what appears to be an unattainable peak. Our focus is where we haven’t yet been. The climb looks steep and we are tired. We rarely stop to look below at the remarkable progress we have already made. Maybe looking back can sometimes be a positive thing. To see how far we have come. How far I have come.

What causes these emotional hiccups? No good answer here. Stress at work. An anniversary of an event you wish you didn’t have to remember. Regret for a decision that backfired. Fatigued at the magic money stretching to cover the bills. Maybe just one too many cutesy Facebook quote put you over the edge. I guess the why doesn’t matter. The whys will invariable come from time to time. It is the navigation through them that highlights our courage and resolve.

Starting this blog has been a blast and surprisingly uplifting for my spirit. The goal was to be light hearted, maybe goofy and sometimes even self-deprecating. Sharing my personal glitches and true stories with the awareness that we are all in this together. It is beneficial to have that reminder. The feedback has been tremendous and for that I am more grateful then I could ever adequately express. And yet today I struggled. Today I didn’t feel like writing. Today I didn’t feel like even leaving the house. (I did. My boss is funny about that sort of thing.) But my emotional well is low. Like that annoying sucking sound your straw makes when you want that very last drop of Chocolate Mocha Caramel Milkshake from Cook Out.  (I’m not sure they actually have that flavor, but they should.)    So is this ok?  To admit when you are weak? When your foundation shakes a little?  Are we really all in this together? Oh yeah we are. We have ALL been there.

There’s a line in a new song I heard on the radio that goes, “Flying feels like flying ‘til you hit the ground.” That line has stuck with me.  The really good days are really good days. We just don’t always know when the ground is going to catch up to us.

So now what? What do I do? I don’t know. Wait it out I guess. Maybe read a book (or a blog). Watch a movie (with Bradley Cooper). Or have a Chocolate Mocha Caramel Milkshake.  It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been depressed. It won’t be the last. I’m not freaking out or anything. Here’s what I DON’T want. I don’t want you guys to feel sorry for me. (I already have that covered, thanks!)  I will be just fine. It will pass. Just one of those little bumps in the road.  In fact, just putting these few words together here is already helping.

I just decided that along with the good vibes and the funny anecdotes, I would also share the less delightful moments. Moments of doubt. Of loneliness. Fear. So on the off chance that anyone else is experiencing these, they will feel less isolated. Maybe this post should serve as a reminder that having a bad day is not a reflection of who we are as individuals, where we are on our journey, or punishment for unknown transgressions. Just simply a notice to take a moment, use the down time and regroup. Sit on the side of that mountain. Enjoy the view. Reflect on the victories.  Take courage that tomorrow will open with the same opportunities as yesterday. One day at a time. That’s all any of us can do.

So if today you’re the bug too, enjoy the cool smoothness of the windshield before taking flight again with me tomorrow!

Hope Out

Reverse Parental Control


I cracked the screen on my cell phone. (I know, the horror of it all). I was on my treadmill, using the phone for music when it bounced off, hit the floor and cracked the screen. (I considered that a mis-guided hint that I should stop walking on that treadmill. Haven’t been on it since.) I carried that cracked screen phone for a very long time. It still worked. All was fine. Then one day my youngest daughter; adult and married, said they had received notice of a special promotion where I could be put on their family cellular plan, get a new phone, cheaper rate…yada yada. So I did.

Fast forward a few months…my daughter and her husband were talking about how much data was being used and the number of text messages his sister had sent last month. (His teenage sister is also on the family plan.) While we were sitting there railing about teenagers and their text message obsession my daughter pipes up and says, “Don’t worry Mom, you only sent ###”. Wait…...What??     You have access to my phone habits?? Didn't think about that....

There is a slight panic moment when you realize your child can read YOUR text messages. It’s like the recurring stress-induced dream you have where you show up at work in your underwear. Highly exposed. (You’ve never had a recurring dream where you showed up at work in your underwear? Is it just me??) Of course….once the panic settles I understand that being on their family plan would in fact put me in their circle of information.  I’m cool with that. Panic is a strong word. I have nothing to hide. All the same, my extremely readable expressive face must have registered something because she came right back with “But I haven’t read any of them.” Yet……..

So what’s next? Will the ‘Family’ GPS track my whereabouts? I ride the roads a lot. A print out of my travels would look like one of those nostalgic string art kits. (Do any of you remember doing one of those? Wrapping those insanely thin pieces of string around pegs nailed into a board?) Or should I be concerned that I won’t be able to access the next episode of Sons of Anarchy? Will my phone mysteriously cut off at 11 pm? How literally will they now take ‘parental control’?

It used to be all I worried about was what kind of nursing home they were going to put me in.

I have entered into the phase of life where my children are now adults. That’s an oxymoron, right? You can’t be a child AND an adult. Maybe I’m the moron, but this reality is hard to get used to! You spend almost two decades taking care of them and then suddenly, if you have done it right, they move on, out and have their own lives. The world sees these productive, mature, well-adjusted women, but all I see are the little girls stomping through the mud puddles in the back yard or Barbie birthday cakes or one child catching a fish, bringing it home and the other one praying it back to life! (That’s a true story.)       (It IS a true story.)

What ups the difficulty ante is when you are SINGLE with adult children! No one ever plans for that. There isn’t a chapter in “Bringing Your Baby Home” that discusses that particular scenario. Everyone assumes when the grandkids are brought back home there will be two gray haired people sitting in the rocking chairs on the front porch. Not one Miss Clairol MeMe sending text messages or checking in on Facebook driving around in an orange car. (I don’t actually DO those things while I’m driving my orange car.)  I can’t relate to their feelings about this. My parents were married over 60 years. They literally were the two gray haired people sitting on the front porch rocking chairs. It does make me sad sometimes that I cannot offer them what I was afforded. Instead of trading recipes and family heirlooms, we trade relationship stories. And get tattoos together. That sounds messed up, right?  And instead of meet my parents, it is now meet my kids.

It used to concern me a little when I brought a new suitor home to meet my parents. I mean, I wanted them to like him, but it wasn’t exactly mandatory. It’s not quite that simple now. The dynamics are different. It is really important to me that my daughters like and preferably respect the man I invite over for family dinner. While I am smart enough to realize sometimes that doesn’t happen, it is a bumpy road to travel if you set yourself up for holidays, birthdays and family vacations with a partner who clashes with your offspring. Learned that the hard way. Not going there again if I can help it. 

I should just leave the partner picking to them anyway. Both of my daughters are better at cultivating and maintaining relationships than I am.  My youngest daughter has already been married longer than I was. No idea where they got their insight. Certainly wasn’t me. They probably got together late one night as teenagers and said “Whatever Mom does, let’s do the opposite!” Seems to have been a good game plan for them.

But for now all is ok. I think we have settled into this all being adults thing ….finally. You can’t have amazing grandkids until that happens anyway. And hey, it has its benefits. I did get a new cell phone.  Who knows, as the years go by they both may just end up doing more  and more for me. That’s the circle of life, right?

Maybe they will even be kind enough to make sure I don’t go to work in my underwear.


Hope Out

You’re The Reason God Made Oklahoma (It’s A Song, Google It)


This is the story of how I met and married my first husband. It is a personal story and a true story. It is also a family story, because not only did it affect my family it also affected his, plus the marriage produced my oldest daughter.  So while it is my intent to be honest and maybe even thought provoking, I have to be sensitive to the feelings of everyone involved. This will be some of my most intimate revelations to date.

At the age of 19 I was a very restless teenager. I also fancied myself somewhat of a gypsy. I never really believed I fit in the small country town in North Carolina where I lived. Even though we had moved there when I was still young, I basically always felt like an outsider. And I felt poor. I know, that sounds awful. I had a good life. But at the time, that is how I felt. I didn’t have the Aigner purses or the preppy clothes or those Add-A-Bead necklaces. (I really, really wanted one of those necklaces.)  Sounds trite now, but it wasn’t then. Not to me. I just sorta lost my way a bit. Spent about a year with my sister in St Louis right out of high school. Got a taste of the big city. I had planned to go to college. NC State. Design solar panels. But I couldn’t get my act together enough to make that happen. I wanted adventure and experiences. What I got was a waitressing job back in that small town in North Carolina.

I worked every day at this little diner called Kathy’s. I didn’t have a plan, but I knew it was only temporary. I was looking to get away again. Did not see myself settling there. The world was too big.  I knew, because I had been outside those confining rural walls. It was only a matter of time before something or someone happened. That someone was a construction worker from Oklahoma named Larry. My life story changed the day he and his crew walked in and sat down at my counter.  And the events that followed; both good and bad I would not change with any amount of Magic Do Over Dust one could buy.

Larry and his band of buddies built water towers. (You know, the ones made famous in country songs?) They were in town for six weeks and would be in the restaurant every day of those six weeks. Three decades ago there was no other place nearby for them to eat.  He was 30 years old. In my eyes that made him wiser and experienced and mysterious. Way more mature than the ‘boys’ I had been around. Of course he was ruggedly handsome in that Midwestern Cowboy kinda of way.  He had been married before, even had two children. That insured that my parents would distrust and dislike him immediately; which as a young, restless and rebellious teenage girl just made him all the more irresistible.

He apparently found something desirable about me as well and we started ‘seeing’ each other. It was not an easy romance to cultivate. They were all staying together at a local motel. Our dates consisted of sitting around with everyone watching TV or driving around those back roads in my truck. Some days I would just go to the work site and watch them.  It would amaze and terrify me to see them run and jump back and forth on those scaffolds way up in the air. I was impressed, in awe and head over heels. How intoxicating.

I decided one night to make supper for the entire crew. A homemade meal! They were ecstatic.  I went home after work and cooked a huge pot of spaghetti. As I was walking up to the motel room I dropped the bowl and spaghetti went everywhere all over the sidewalk. I was devastated and embarrassed. But those rough around the edges tough grown men came out to where I was crying over my disaster with forks in hand and started to eat off the ground. I’m not kidding. I know, it sounds weird and disgusting. Quite honestly one of the most bizarre yet sweetest moments of my life. Maybe Larry threatened them if they didn’t. I don’t know. But I know from that point on he was my hero.

The six weeks flew by and they had to leave. I was devastated.

Then one day they came back. I honestly don’t recall if I knew they were coming back or not. I probably did, but I don’t have a recollection of being excited or any anticipation. I just know he came back. This time with an offer. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the first vehicle I bought was a Toyota 4-Wheel Drive Truck. I LOVED that truck. Well, the offer was simple. I could become part of the ‘crew’. I would let them use my truck to haul materials. My “payment” was I could travel all over the country with them and the company would make my truck payment. I would get to live the life of that gypsy. Different town every few months. Living out of motels and greasy spoon restaurants. Glorious! (I WAS only 19 keep in mind.) It was the perfect get out of jail (I mean, town) free card. The next jobs were in Wyoming and Chicago and New Orleans. I could not get home fast enough to pack.

Oh yeah, home. Where my parents were. Not a good scene. My father was having health issues. I was sadly and forever regrettably oblivious. I was hitting the road! Freedom awaited me. But it came with a price. For as long as I live I will never forget my father saying. “I guess I can’t stop you. You’ve made your bed.  Now you have to lay in it.” I will give Larry credit. He came with me to tell them. And help me pack. I mean, it was immediate. One day I lived in North Carolina with a full time job and the next day I was an unemployed drifter.

The problems started almost immediately. The only place we drifted to was Oklahoma which was theirs and the company’s home base. No Chicago. No Wyoming. No New Orleans. Suddenly without warning, the company dissolved. It appeared to surprise everyone, not the least being me. So I knew right away that Oklahoma was my new home. And while I know there are opulent and meager sections in every region, this area was particularly economically challenged. Gave me a whole new perspective on what I had previously considered poor.  But pride would not allow me to turn back and retreat. Plus I was still in love. Or what I thought was love.  The second problem was living arrangements. Larry had been on the road for so long he had no permanent home. We moved in with his parents. I have since wondered what they must have thought; their 30 year old son bringing home a 19 year old girl from halfway across the country. To their credit, they were welcoming and gracious. Especially his father. He was a dear sweet man. It was his mother who proved to have fortune telling abilities. She was the one who told me I was pregnant even before I had noticed anything to be concerned about. (You know how I mentioned earlier that the marriage produced my oldest daughter. The time line of those events weren’t exactly in that order. If you know what I mean.)

So here I was pregnant at 19. Not married. No job. Basically living with strangers, in a strange place. So why, do you ask, did I not just go home? Because my father was a formidable man. A mean-what-you-say man. And the last thing he said was “you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it”. My mother told me years later that all I had to do was pick up the phone and they would have done everything necessary to get me home. A comment I didn’t fully appreciate until becoming a mom myself. I am absolutely sure now that would have been the case. Being a scared and stubborn kid back then though, it did not cross my mind as an option.

The details of what followed in the next several months would take pages to tell in full. I found a job at a newspaper. We got married. My boss gave me away. (How many fairy tales have that twist?) We lived in several different places, including a house with his sister and her family. A house with no glass in some of the windows. Just curtains. There were always a variety of creatures and critters to dodge or pretend I didn’t see. I woke up one morning to find a pony in the kitchen. (Of course he didn’t come in through a window. The back door was left open.)

We also lived in a small cabin on a lake. He found a job doing maintenance on a group of rental cabins. One of the perks was they offered us a unit. That is where we spent our first Christmas. I hosted the family Christmas dinner. We had finger foods, a table cloth and matching paper plates and cups. I was embarrassed at our sparse offering; they thought I was Martha Stewart. It was mind blowing and eye opening. I don’t think I had ever consciously stopped to count my blessings before. Didn’t realize that ‘rich’ means more than money. The blinders were coming off.

Through a series of decisions and mistakes I lost my truck and we lost the cabin. We ended up back at his parents. This time with me being very pregnant and pretty much over everything having to do with Oklahoma. (I mean no disrespect to the people or state. It was just the particular position I found myself in.) I had a falling out with his mother and I chose to live in a camper in the back yard. It was in that camper one night that I had my Prodigal Son (Daughter) moment. I concluded that whatever restrictions or conditions were given to me, I would comply if my parents would let me come home. It was with great relief that they did. And the cutest and most precious little red headed baby girl, who would become one of my two proudest accomplishments, was born shortly thereafter safely tucked away back in North Carolina.

Needless to say the marriage did not survive those pressures or obstacles. I hold no hard feelings towards Larry or begrudge those circumstances. Looking back it was a relatively short time span in the grand scheme of my life. However the impact was significant and long standing, and not just because of my daughter. I learned some valuable lessons.

While eating off the ground might be romantic, it does not necessarily make for a good life partner.

Consider your blessings. Appreciate what you have. There will always be those who have more and those who have less.

Never be too proud to ask for forgiveness.

Family, especially the love of a mother, is priceless and unconditional.

Even with all the above said….be prepared to lay in the bed you make; even if it is in Oklahoma.
 
Hope Out

Damsel In A Dress (Distress Is For Furniture)


**The sound of a dark and calamitous saloon piano plays in the background** A woman is tied to the railroad tracks in an old silent movie with a nefarious villain rubbing his hands gleefully at his handiwork. She is helpless and frantic. When along comes the hero, her hero, who rushes in, unties her just before the train arrives. He rescues her and puts an end to the villain’s evil plot…. BAM, the blueprint for the Damsel in Distress is born. Ok. I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.  If it is an inherent female trait, it skipped me. If it is learned or taught behavior, I failed the class. I totally understand the concept. I completely, if albeit grudgingly, acquiesce to the fact that the concept exists. I just can’t manage to pull it off. I know these distressed damsels exist. I have met one or two. It is with curiosity and sometimes a twinge of jealousy that I watch them operate. But it’s not for me.  Honestly I am proud to say that most of the amazing single women I know today it also does not work for them.  

The theme is repeated over and over again in relationship books and talk shows. (I admit I was an avid watcher of Dr Phil until I stopped buying cable.) Guys like to feel needed. They need to know they have contributed something worthwhile. Performed a service. Helped. Fixed something, anything. It is hard wired into their DNA. I applaud that DNA. Trust me, I am not a feminist. I have no real problem (I can already hear the groans starting) with traditional gender roles. I will cook supper if you cut the grass. The problem I have is ASKING you to cut the grass.

I am not a tomboy, but I have done stuff. Non-girly stuff. I had a rifle and went hunting with my dad. I drove a tractor and helped on our small farm. My first paying job at age 13 was putting in tobacco. If you don’t know what that means, well you just wouldn’t understand. If you DO know what it means, then you DO understand. The first vehicle I bought was a 4-Wheel Drive Toyota Truck. (Ok, looking back, maybe I was somewhat of a tomboy.) But I never considered myself to be one. I was just a country girl. But a girl none the less; with the same sappy, dreamy ideas that most girls have. I had a life size poster of Scott Baio on my wall….yes I did. And the stair steps of my adolescence were meant to lead to college, a career, a husband. With that husband, create a partnership. My parents had a partnership. In the early years of their marriage they owned a restaurant, a gas station, a boarding house. (They did all that cool interesting stuff before I was born.) They worked together, united. When my father went to work at the shipyard, my mother went back to school to get her cosmetologist license. My father turned our garage into a beauty shop. Teamwork. After retirement and the move back to NC, they both worked together to tend a small farm and keep an immaculate yard, flower beds and fruit orchard. They didn’t have a chore chart. They didn’t flip a coin. They just did what had to be done. Worked in conjunction with each other. So it is their fault that I went into adulthood thinking that was the design for a healthy marriage/partnership.

I kept those ideas and thoughts and beliefs….right until the age of 28, when through no fault of my own (Well, that’s not a true statement. I do own some fault); I became a divorced single mother with two daughters.

What do most single mothers do? EVERYTHING! (Now for all the single dads out there, please do not get up in arms. I very much applaud you for also doing EVERYTHING. However for the purpose of this particular train of thought, I am sticking with the female side.)

Financial decisions, discipline decisions, car decisions, school decisions, vacation decisions…. The list is endless. Skinned knees. Science projects. Sibling brawls in the kitchen (and bedroom and front yard). First heartbreak. My obvious point is that being a single mom creates a situation where you have to be in charge. Become strong in areas that you really didn’t want to be strong in. When you are accustomed to those things it is then difficult to turn the tide. We can’t go from being an independent, self-sufficient woman and then fall to fainting on cue. Do we feel like fainting? Yeah. Sometimes we do. Or at least I know I did. I had an amazing support system with my parents, couldn’t have done it without them. But some nights after dinner, homework, and all the little problems are handled, you lock yourself in the bathroom, turn on the shower and cry. And pray. And wonder if there will ever come a time when you will not feel broken, inadequate and exhausted.  

Ok, I know that’s a downer. Where’s the happy blog? Who is in charge today?? I just had to write all those dismal words to point out that we as single women and moms DO have distress. But we don’t LIVE in distress. We live in HOPE and COURAGE and LOVE. And when we meet a guy, those are the attributes we display. We don’t want you to feel sorry for us. We are proud of ourselves. So we can plan dinner, but would LOVE if you did it first. We can take the car to have the oil changed or tires rotated, but it would melt our heart if you offered to handle it. We can pay a plumber to unclog the toilet, but….well maybe we should just pay the plumber. My point is, just because we have risen to the occasion and CAN handle life, doesn’t mean we would not relish the chance to sit back, let go of the reins and let someone else do it from time to time. But some of us (me) just have trouble asking for help.

So for the men who are looking to be needed, resourceful, handy, generous in time and affection, please by all means DON’T LET US STOP YOU! We do not mean to get in our own way. Open the doors, bring the flowers, pick up the milk, make the reservation. Untie us from the railroad tracks. 


Hope Out

Are You Looking For Excuses Or Solutions (We Find What We Search For)

Excuses are like pennies you find on the floor. Easy to spot and pretty much anywhere, but not really helpful in the grand scheme of things....