October is the cruellest month

T.S. Eliot says that April is the cruellest month but for me it would have to be October. April is the month that celebrates the birth of two of my children. Their joyfulness, laughter, compassion and kindness makes the transition from winter to spring the least bit cruel.

October seems to hurt me every year. October is cruel because my relationships seem to end then. My ex filed for divorce in October. The last time I spoke to my grandmother before she died was October 30, 2008. Last year, the man I was seeing ended our relationship in October saying he just wanted to be friends. And this breakup was after he had broken up with me earlier, said he wanted to give it another go and then BAM! over. And then today, the current man (about whom I'm not ready to write any blog posts) ends our relationship. And this too after he wanted to give it another go.

Two things I've learned: 1) Never ever 'give it another go' with a man. One break up is enough in any relationship. And 2) Skip October. Seems like it is just too cruel for me and my relationships.

Solo steps

"Yes, please dance with me, " I said to him. My heart was aching but if he held me close, maybe, for a few minutes the crying would cease.

He moved me slowly, tenderly around the floor. I closed my eyes and inhaled his scent. I floated, and with every step, I longed for my love to be the one holding me. But he would not put his arms around me. He would not come to embrace me. I am alone. My dance is a dance of longing - longing to be complete again. And I get to pretend for four minutes at a time. When the one I want to dance with for four million minutes isn't coming. He's not. Ever. I know that. I will arrive alone and leave alone. My soul crying with every fleeting step.

Doing my part

William: Mom, thanks so much for my birth.

Me: You mean for giving birth to you?

William: Yeah. And thanks for having sex with my dad cause I really wanted to be here.

Me: (Choking back laughter) Okay William - glad I could do my part.

Perfect on Paper

Like everyone who is not in love, he thought one chose the person to be loved after endless deliberations and on the basis of particular qualities or advantages.
-Marcel Proust


He called me after he had returned from his trip. "Hey sexy!" he said. I smiled and replied, "Glad to see you finally got my name right." He had had a good trip home. Saw some friends. Picked up more of his belongings that he had left there. Said he had missed me too. And then said we needed to talk.

"Okay" I replied hesitatingly. This did not sound good. He continued on relaying a story about a woman whom he had been seeing back home, whom he had broken up with before moving to my town and whom he saw again when he went home. I was confused as to where he was going with all this. I knew he and I were at the beginnings in our relationship, so I had no expectations of exclusivity.

He apologized to me for not telling me about this woman earlier but that when he met me he didn't think she was going to be in his life again. However on his trip home, she told him she missed him and wanted to try again. So he had agreed to let her move in with him in this new town and he felt he needed to give it an honest shot. So that no matter how much it pained him to let me go, he felt he needed to focus on her and that relationship.

I was a little shocked to say the least. I was a little pissed too that some girl whom I didn't know about was able to just step in and stop a potential relationship from forming because she had changed her mind. He and I continued talking. He began listing all the things about me that he was going to miss. He really sounded conflicted and in pain over his decision. I asked him what was it about her that made him want to be with her. His reply.... are you ready?.... was.... "well she's perfect on paper."

WTF!? I thought out loud. What I said was - "Perfect on Paper? She's a person not a product! All those things that you say you love about me that you don't have with her you are going to miss sorely. I feel really bad for you but I hope I'm wrong and she turns out to be so much more than Perfect on Paper."

How could I compete with someone who was Perfect on Paper? I couldn't and I can't. I am far from being Perfect on Paper. I am divorced, over 40 with 3 children. I have an ex-husband and two dogs. I need reading glasses, orthotics for my shoes and have retired my uterus from birthing any more babies. I have a good job. I am educated. I read for pleasure and personal growth. I dance tango. I embrace life with passion. I love with my whole body. I laugh and I move on. There is no way I will fit into someone's idealized version of a woman. I can't be anyone else but me.

I let this man go. He married Perfect on Paper and they now have a child. He still contacts me occasionally and tells me how much he misses me. I smile and say that is normal and expected for I know that I am so much more than just "perfect on paper".

Oreo Cookies...

When I was at the check-out counter at Walgreens the other day buying shampoo and cards and stuff, a man came up and put his items down on the counter to be served next. Instinctively, I looked down to see what he was buying. I was intrigued by his choices. He had a package of double-stuff Oreo cookies and an economy size box of condoms. That's it. Nothing else. No wine (although not possible in our state - Walgreens doesn't sell liquor), no lube, no flowers, no musk cologne. Nothing. Just Oreos and condoms.

I immediately began to wonder what he had in store for himself that evening. Did he know his partner so well that he knew that foreplay for her was a package of double-stuff Oreos? Was there some sort of unknown aphrodisiac in Oreos that warranted the economy size box of condoms? Would he be getting lucky for hours on end? Were Oreo cookies the poor-man's equivalent of Viagra? Perhaps they were for him and not for her?

Or perhaps he was going to attend an orgy/potluck dinner that evening? And perhaps he was running late and didn't have time to bake his famous chocolate chip brownies; but he knew that all the participating women loved oreo cookies so he substituted that instead. That would explain the economy-sized box of condoms.

But then I was back to my original thought about him getting lucky with his lady and foreplay consisting of a package of oreos. What a mess with all those cookie crumbs getting stuck in various crevices! And then having to change the sheets immediately after due to the crumbs so ants would not migrate and set up new colonies in the bed. Goodness! How do you manage the wet spot?!? Yuck! And then I pondered when does a woman start to desire a package of Oreos as her aphrodisiac rather than a bottle of wine? And then I said a quick prayer to every heavenly body I could think of that there would be a big, flashing, neon warning sign if I ever started to get aroused after eating Oreos. I even asked them to also blow a fog horn at me (in case I was so blinded by the afterglow of the Oreos), so I could turn quickly and run in the opposite direction. I also said a little prayer of thanks that at least there were two souls who were going to be having a little 'happiness' that night. It didn't really matter what the means were to achieve the end.

However, I can no longer look at Oreo cookies with the same innocence I once had. And I will be very, very suspect of any date who shows up with a package of them....