“THE BOX” ~ Prelude to a kiss…off!
“Do not be sad, a heavy heart is not a bad thing. It is proof, we lived.” J.P.
It started out simple enough, really it did. I was single for the first time in over twenty years. I was doing what I should have done when I was in my early twenties. Instead I did what many mid-west, middle class girls did in the late 70’s. We fell in love and got married, too soon.
It came quickly, a wonderful brood of children, one baby after another. I really did know what caused that! Don’t get me wrong, I was content, with my children. It was the marriage that wasn’t so good. The motherhood, it was exactly what I wanted at the time. I was frustrated and lost, when did I lose my way? Oh, I loved my babies. I was going to be the best mother that God had ever entrusted children to.
Me, I guess I am a dreamer, an idealist, a little girl dancing freely in red tights, at least in my mind. My greatest crime? Well, my mother labeled me as a dreamer “Little Mary dreaming, always dreaming.” Yeah, can you imagine, that, a crime? (Where was John Lennon when I needed him) Hell, it is what kept me sane. Oh and of course, my other major flaw, “your timing is always off!” Well, according to whose time anyway? But, I suppose when someone you trust speaks words over you somehow or another, a spirit of those words leech on to you and they become your identifier. As I grew into a young woman, my friends professed the same things about me. Worst than that my husband would use that against me. Word to the wise, never highlight your flaws to anyone, other than a therapist as they will come back to haunt you! Truth is, to some degree they were right, and not much has changed.
So, I hit my early 40’s and discovered that I was just waiting, waiting for a miracle. I had become increasingly unhappy. I was no longer in love with the man that I promised to spend my life with, if I was ever in love in the first place. Infatuation at 16 is often mistaken as love. I am not quite sure when it ended, and became a habit, it just did. I tried like I had so many years earlier just to pull myself up by my bootstraps and forge on. This time was different, I was looking at my daughters, now in the late High School stage and another engaged to be married, and it was then that it hit me. I was not going to be just a Mom forever! At some point I would only be identified as “Bob’s wife!” So there it goes. It was a matter of undoing well over twenty years of my life. It took a year of separation to end in divorce. I then took another six months before I even considered myself possibly marketable in the world of dating. It was going to be hard, as I had never really entered it in the first place. Oh my goodness I thought, would I ever be kissed again? Was that it for me in the arena of sexuality? More importantly, I also had promised my eldest that I would not even possibly bring a “DATE” to her wedding. So I respected her wishes, and did not even attempt to find a date.
My big post-divorce present was tickets I bought myself for a Todd Rundgren concert the House of Blues, Chicago. Sadly, no matter how hard I tried, I could not find a man to escort me. Life on the dating stage was looking to much like the final curtain and no chance of an encore!
It was my dream to hear “Hello It’s Me” with a gorgeous man on my arm (as the date approached any man would do). I can’t explain it but I remember the first time I heard that song, I was only in the 5th grade. It became my song, my connector to a world of love.
Time was running out, the date was quickly approaching. My dream was slipping through my fingers. No matter what happened I was going, solo or duet! I was committed to starting my life as a single woman that night. Oddly enough it was the evening of Easter Sunday. Yes, I was rising, alive, Alive!
What does any single girl that cannot find a date do? She asks her brother, yes, I even asked my brother, the guitar player to come with me, he couldn’t even indulge me! My sophomore high school trauma, or should I say drama was coming back to haunt me! I was a lost cause in this single world. So I settled for my best friend and we made the most of it. It was actually the best thing I could have done. I gained something far more valuable than a good looking guy on my arm. I gained a best friend. She still believes herself to be the best date I have ever had. If I remember correctly she was the one who had the most fun. (Never go out with a cute little blond when you are trying to emerge into a single life for the first time!) She was a hit! Men were all ogling her. What would I know? For lack of better identification, I was androgynous, a newt, an amoeba in the world of sexiness! What in the world was the rest of my life going to be like? Here, she was married and getting hit on, me, single and singing the song of androgyny! Well, the most I got was that someone REALLY like my hot pink rocker nails…”boy what you could do with those!” “Yuck!” That and I was indeed a hit with the ladies, I clung to that like some feather in my cap. At least somebody like the way my pants fit. Really the night wasn’t all bad. I had Todd Rundgren only 10 or so feet away from me, I was hit on, I made a best friend, the until death us do part kind of friend, I found that I was free, and I was mesmerized, my heart pounded, I was transfixed, it wasn’t all bad…until…until the last song, I had to wonder would he sing it? He left the stage, and for a moment I feared, really feared, that I would never be able to write my story, but, out came one, then two, then three and, the down beat, “Hello…and yes, it was hello it’s me, yes, I was free to be me!
But, I had to wonder… Was that what my post-divorce life was going to be about? In truth, I was tired of being tied to a man. I needed breathing space. What did I miss? Did I miss anything really in marrying too soon? Is it all a façade, a game of convincing people that there is always something more, something greener, better, sexier, smarter, funnier?
After spending two and a half years in the most nurturing, loving, honest, wonderful relationship, (with a therapist) I had ever had, I discovered many things about myself. Mostly, I was nowhere near being ready for a relationship. But, boy were these lips longing to do some lip dancing!
So, the time would come and I would discover that, yes indeed I was marketable. I was graced with many offers, winks, whistles, you name it. It was fun. (I would really like to reason that I was special, but I would come to comprehend what all women should grasp, if you are a woman, then you will be desired by men for that reason alone) Truth is I loved every toss of my hair and sly smile that was exchanged. For a season I bought the whole bill of goods.
Two weeks after my daughter’s wedding my sister took me on a cruise. It would be my post-divorce present number II. It was enlightening, trust me, it, was enlightening. The skies opened, the angels sang, and Sandy and Danny embraced in that “summer lovin’ kinda thing. Another notch of freedom and this little girl was dancing! It would not be long and when it would be time to make my move. Enter into a relationship of some kind. I did and it was fun, short lived, but fun. Then “IT” happened and my life has not been the same since.
It was early December, two months after the fun short-lived fling. I was moving up in the world, things were going well. Purchased my first home as a single woman, my buying power was moving up so it only made sense to get DSL in my home. I was going on-line! Yep, that is when it all happened. I was signing on the net, in the privacy of my own bedroom. Scandalous at best! I was assigned my user name and then it happened. Up popped an ad for Match.com, a part of me will regret that day till the day I die, the other part of me will rejoice, remember it fondly because it became cathartic, freeing. It brought me into a world that I did not like, and I needed all at the same time.
There he was Mr. Prince Charming. Tall, dark, handsome, thirty-nine and single, and had never been married. I thought WOW, this is sweet. Then I looked a little closer “Looking for women 21-30!” I freaked out. I thought wait one cotton pickin’ minute, I have been hit on, inundated, asked out, in a relationship with, had a fling with, men between the ages of 28-36, and someone my own age doesn’t want me. ME? What is that about? Well, there was only one way to find out…ask. Did I mention that not only am I a dreamer and a woman of poor timing, but I am a little odd, spontaneous, hell, I like me.
Well, the only way I could ask this chap what gives, was to join match.com. I joined with the express purpose of asking “what was his problem!” I did it, I was walking into a forbidden world, all in my own bedroom. (Something kinda’ erotic about that) I Chose a username and began to set up the profile, the bio, the likes the dislikes, etc. It was my day of infamy…December 7th!
My curiosity got the best of me, (it killed the cat, ahhh, but satisfaction brought her back)
Mr. Prince Charming…
”I couldn’t help but notice you, and it was you that I joined match over…my question is, why are you limiting yourself to women between the ages of 21-30 and you are 39. Most of the men that are hitting on me are between the ages of 28-36, so what is the deal?”
Well, if you ask questions you are bound to get answers, sometimes they are not what you want to hear! His reply was simple, sweet and direct!
“Thank you for your interest. I am seeking women in that age range because I have discovered that women your age, (early forties mind you) have way too much baggage. Thank you and good luck on your search.”
Well, I’ll be damned! I could not believe it. It was then that I quickly revised my bio. I had paid for a month I might as well get my money’s worth. So I entered in the counter attack to his attack. “The true grace of a woman is… that you will never know the weight of her baggage”
Like anybody on match really cared about my feelings. Seriously, it is a glorified meat market for the most part. It is a series of collectors, each hoping to glance at a pretty face, how many winks, letters, poems, etc. can be accumulated. The truth is when you really think about it, it is completely, totally unrealistic. I mean, come on, let’s say that you were walking down the street and someone winked at you, would you stop them and say… “Hi, my name is kitten, I am 5’5, slender, you can’t see it, but I have a sweet spot not on the list of best features, (wink, wink) that I will tell you about later. I am a middle child, of European descent. I have a belly button ring, a tattoo, and I love guinea pigs. The man that gets a date with me will be exactly what I want. Smart, romantic, a poet, and other ditties. The man I am after will wine me dine me, romance me, Oh and these are my favorite hangouts (huge clue into the type of person you are meeting and their expectations of the income you must really make not to mention what a quick way to land a stalker!)”
I mean really, if you started out a conversation like that any sane person would run. There is way too much disclosure too fast. But those of us that are willing to take a walk on the internet dating scene, the social network do exactly that. Now I am not saying that it is all bad. It is not. But, realistically, it creates a false playing field. People increasingly fall into the trap of always finding something better. We send special pictures in an attempt to sexually arouse the man we tease. Gentlemen it is a tease. For the most part we are checking you out. We want to know if we are your body type, etc. Ladies, men who ask for a picture are collecting! The best part is the ones who claim they are looking for a friend! Fiddlesticks on that one! I am not sure about you but that kinda’ disclosure is not what we do with new friends. Tell me what friend would tolerate being inundated with emails, right after meeting you? No, the truth is when it comes to men and women we are on dating sites for sex, and then relationships. Every woman thinks if she can disarm a man, (especially if she is not considered, SEXY) by making him think of friendship. Why are so many men obsessed with having female friends? He feels safe, because he is thinking, “good, if I show up and she is not the type I shopped for then I can gracefully out, we are just friends.” Then, there is also the reality that, just in case they are collecting other suitors, they have safe outs with all of them. I was once told that there is no real such thing as platonic male, female relationships. That in every guys mind lurks the little boy question…what is under that dress? Now, I am not saying that I believe this, but, it is interesting that the very man that most of this saga is about told me that men want one thing…with a pretty girl, and that is to “do her”, yep, exact words! Now then, how is it, that he pursues friends on the net? Curious, don’tcha’ think? (Maybe it is just once a collector always a collector?)
The worst thing we need in this day and age is the feeding of the “greener on the other side” phenomena. I remember one featured member of match actually admitted to the “home shopping network” approach to on-line dating. He could look for the exact body parts, hair color, etc, that he wanted, if “it” proved to have a flaw, it was a simple delete and on to the next! After he sent me an email asking how long my legs were and could I send him additional pictures (ladies beware of that one! True sign of a collector) I responded, “so, if I send you pictures and tell you how beautiful my legs are, what is to guarantee they are my legs, and if I do, do you have the balls to get out of your flippin’ recliner and actually invest in some form of dialogue?” Guess what? I never heard from him again!
Okay so I digress, but it disturbs me how we actually become victims. Those of us who actually develop relationships become even bigger victims, and create victims. This is a story of “the box” how it happened and the beauty that came from something so tragic and the tangled web we weave when we get the chance to counter deceive, not really but it is a nice little rhyme. So join me on a “Train Bound For Nowhere…”
