He's just not that into me - not a book or a movie, but a life

What if you could take the best of the most influential guys from your past, stir it up, and make a new man? An Iron Man. A Batman? A Superman! No...a Real Man! He's a compilation of at least 4 guys who have impacted you. Are you going to screw it up like you did before? Will he also vanish, vaporize, vamoose?

A boy from high school: a casual friendship that developed over time. Comfortable, safe, chaste. I was myself. We had classes together, but he was older, wiser, calmer. Funny, he made me laugh. When he wanted to move beyond friendship into a relationship, I didn't want to screw up the great friendship. I wasn't ready for more. I was scared. Time? Wait? He got mad and left.

A boy from college: an instantaneous feeling in my heart that warmed me. The moment I saw him walking toward me across Trinity Gardens, I knew that I would marry him. (Okay, you know who this one is, but I am keeping with the theme of anonymity.) My heart skipped a beat. We flirted. Funny, he made me laugh. We became friends and confidantes and dependent upon one another...secure in a future, in forever. An assumption. He lost respect for himself, and I lost respect for him when he stopped believing that I believed in him. He went to hell and left.

A man from work: unavailable at first, disinterested, but over time crush-worthy from afar. Funny, he made me laugh. Respect, his need for understanding and my compassionate ear and sage advice delivered. I should have been more wary, but we tried more for just about a minute. I wasn't ready. I was confused. He got hurt and left.

Another one from work: Exciting, spontaneous, energetic, hard working. Funny, he made me laugh. Knew me better than I knew myself. Could diffuse my anger at just the right time. Could talk me off the proverbial cliff. And then pushed me right over the edge. Too damaged and dysfunctional. He got cocky and left.

Some have wanted to come back. I thought about it. I still think about what might have...moving on. What if I could stir them all up in a pot, remove or revise the damaged parts, put all the good stuff together? I would have:

• someone with whom I could be myself - loud or quiet, glad, sad, mad, or smad.
• someone who made my heart beat faster the moment that I saw him and who would keep it beating that way - in a tie, without a tie, or halfway untied. (That went somewhere I hadn't planned.) A faster beat with just a look, a glance.
  
• someone who earned my respect and likewise respected me. If he makes a mistake, he says sorry, and eh, all is forgiven. No cover ups, no tangled webs.
  
• someone who could balance outrageous antics with tender feelings. Fun, yet snuggly.
  

What would happen if I met that guy? That man with the best attributes/essence of my past men? Will he pull a Casper and ghost away?

If I could add two more essential ingredients, they would be loyalty and commitment. (That narrows the field down to Dogs. Dogs don't leave unless they die, and you can't really hold that against them.) Let's dream though, and get back to the man...If such a man existed, he just wouldn't be that into me.

Would he? What if I was ready? What if I were scared, but he talked me through it? What if it were right and fun? He got me and stayed?

Robbers and Cops....oh my!

What is wrong with people? Robbers are bad, bad people. They are weak, useless, pathetic examples of human beings. Anyone who would rob a 94-year-old man should just be shot, not to kill, but to wound, to suffer. Or maybe just lock them up and throw away the key. Uncle Harold is not quite as upset about this as I am. After all, he is 94. He's been through a lot, through a war. I am mad.

Uncle Harold was gone for 1 1/2 hours this afternoon. During that time, some imbecile broke the glass out of his back garage door and went into his house. They took a gun and some money.

When I drove by Uncle Harold's tonight, he was sitting in his driveway reading his mail, before going back into the house. It was about 5-10 minutes after I saw him that he called my Mom. I could tell by her voice and the look on her face that something was wrong. She told him that she would call John or that Mary would be right down. She got off the phone and said that Uncle Harold had been robbed. I went right down and called 911 from his phone.

Poor man...He was breathing funny. He was very concerned about some clothes in a closet. It was very exciting in a bad way.

Not all is lost though. There was a bright spot to an otherwise terrible event. That's right, the Deputy was totally crushing on me. That's right. I saw him checking me out...checking on the ring finger. And he so let me know that he was single. When he asked what was missing, I told him that it was a little hard to tell because Uncle Harold isn't the neatest housekeeper. So, "D" says, "Hey, us single guys gotta try to keep a clean house."

Then, we were talking about all the break-ins in the area, and he said that I'd have to have my husband teach me how to use a gun. So, I said, "I don't have one of those."

And "D" asked me for my phone number too! Okay, that was for the police report.

double trouble

What would you do if your friend's abusive husband doubled the life insurance on her?

He is crazy. He's going to make it seem like an accident.

She needs to leave and get far away.

He is controlling, abusive, obsessed. He is really sick.

I'm not sure how she found out about the life insurance, but she's just not safe there.

I truly believe that he would kill her before letting her get a divorce.

He's all about how something looks. He has no substance.

Hello...George!

George Clooney and his girlfriend have split up after a year of dating.

George, please, it's about time. You are old enough to be her father. Was she even allowed to watch TV when you were on Facts of Life in the 80s? There are so many available, beautiful, interesting, intelligent, hardworking, and mature women who would appreciate your company.

You can pick me up on Friday at 7 p.m. I'll be ready.

Magnets

Why is it that what I push away...I attract?

It was always that way. It's like he could feel me pulling away, forgetting, moving on, whatever it was, and that's when he would reach out, pull, or cajole.

Over the last few years, I've deleted thousands and thousands of emails. Just a few nights ago, I finally deleted his cell number from my mobile phone. I deleted him.

So, today, he emails and calls.

So, why didn't his engagement work out? He says it's my fault. Ha!

It's really his insecurity and her insecurity. A matching set of baggage. It had nothing to do with me. They pushed themselves apart. Two of the exact same magnets who pushed apart.

Not me...deleted.

Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'

People think that I don't like to hug. I love to hug.

If I were to cry, why would I want a hug? A hug would make me feel weak and make me cry harder...if I wasn't ready for it.

If I were in the privacy of my own home with someone I trusted or a hunky dude, then a hug would be good. My ex-dysfunction used to give me shoulder-time when I was upset. I liked shoulder-time. I loved it. I miss it. I'd like shoulder-time with a new man. Tenderness.

When my Dad walked me down the aisle, he patted my hand the whole way. I'm not sure if he was nervous or thought I was. Affection.

When my Dad died, I still remember the hugs from family and friends. I can still feel them, physically feel their arms around me. Comfort.

I get/give friendly hugs from/to friends I've known for 25 years. Those are nice. I trust those hugs. Trust.

The hugs when my Sister and her family are leaving after a visit are a way to hold onto them until the next visit. Kalli squeezes. Tyler pats my back. When I try to think of the description of my sister's hug, it hurts too much for words. Commitment.

I hug my daughters. True Love.

Today at work, some guy was talking to me and another woman. He said something about giving out free foot rubs, but how I wouldn't want one, because I don't like to be touched. Dude! What the French, Toast?

If anything, I tend to crave sensory input, like Sophie does. I love to get massages, manicures, pedicures. I'm not ticklish. I love to get my feet rubbed. I have a bumpy footstool at work so that I can take my shoes off and rub my own socked feet. It's a great stress-reliever.

However, to the point, and of course, I make light of it, because that's what I do. If some hottie were to give me a hug out of the blue when I was unprepared, I'd probably implode. Don't tease a girl with a sip of water when there's no well in sight. Seriously, I'd probably melt to the ground and cry in want of someone to hold me.

Match: a spark or a burn?

Okay, after talking with my friend Lynne last week, I put my profile on a match site. (Don't tell my Mom!) My friend met a man in September on there, and he proposed on New Year's Eve. Not that I am looking for a quick husband, just someone suitable to date. Someone who sparks my interest? Anyone? Anyone out there? I am already considering removing the profile due to lack of response. Although I realize no dude (or even a dud) is going to start anything the week or two before V-day, I thought that I'd get some hits from places closer than IL or CA. (The IL guy was very suitable other than location.) Of course, tonight I spoke with another friend, who goes through drama after drama with guys she's met online. I just don't think that the drama is worth it. I am happy with me. My life is full with (and busier than busy with) my children, my family, my friends, my job, my faith. Do I really want another idiot to waste my time with unfulfilled promises that leave me burned? Or maybe it's possible that the next man I meet will be the one that lights my fire?

Hannah's Narrative Poem

Hannah needed to write a narrative poem for English class - due tomorrow. I'm so proud of her! Here it is...(If you'd like an oral rendition, I'd be happy to give a reading as her proxy.)

Mother is on the phone.
Grandmother is there.
Mother is crying.
The girl is where?

The girl is upstairs
In her parents’ room.
Grandmother finds the girl.
In a sad gloom.

The girl wants her blanket.
She tells her Grandmother.
Grandmother says to wait.
Not to bother.

Grandmother doesn’t understand.
The girl was just making it up
To go and see her Mother.
Just to see what’s up.

Again, the girl said
She wanted her blanket;
That Grandmother could stay there,
And the girl would go and get it.

Grandma went instead.
And the girl followed.
Where she learned
Her Dad is dead.

Not really dead,
But only gone.
No longer coming home,
But out with Dawn.

Years passed
and time flew.
Life is better!
Who knew?

And the really funny thing is...when she was in the middle of the 7th stanza, she was trying to think of something that rhymed with gone. So, we started rhyming, and she said, Dawn. I burst out laughing. Dawn really is the name of the proverbial other woman! I am still laughing!

unfinished sentences...

Here are my words to Maria's unfinished sentences...

I've come to realize my ex is: a selfish bore who is more concerned with himself than with our children. That's my problem only in the way that it affects my beautiful children. He is the one missing out on all the wonder and beauty and fun of them.

I talk: way more now than I ever did as a kid. My friends say I never spoke until junior high. I was painfully shy.

I love: completely.

I lost: myself and then was found. I had a friend who said that in Paris. Oh wait, that was Julia Ormond who said that in the movie Sabrina. I think we all lose ourselves some time, but we come out of the coccoon like a beautiful butterfly. Hold on...that one's from A Bug's Life.

I hate it when: people (including me) are stupid.

Love is: all around. awesome. true.

Marriage was: not what it was supposed to be. Marriage could be: wonderful.

I'll always be: me.

My cell phone is: my lifeline to be family.

When I wake up in the morning: I let the dog out. Let's see...I let him out at 1:00 a.m. and then at 1:30 a.m. and then at 4:00 a.m. and then at 5:00 a.m. Bad Rascal! (Bad night for Rascal, usually, just once when I get up.)

Before I go to sleep at night: I make my kids go to sleep.

Right now I am thinking about: everything! Everything I need to do today and everything I should have done already.

Babies are: always my babies, no matter how old they are.

I get on MySpace: never.

Today I Will: do the best that I can.

Tonight I: will Sophie to music therapy and then work on Christmas cards.

Tomorrow I will: do the best that I can.

I really want to: get married to a wonderful man and move into the country and have a barn full of animals so that my children and I can breathe. (We currently breathe, but in the previous sentence, breathing is symbolic for a simpler, sweeter life.)

The person who is most likely to repost this: ???

Go, Go, Gutter Mind...de-activate!

Everything anyone says lately puts my mind right in the old dirty, sexy gutter. Shouldn't the upcoming Thanksgiving put my mind somewhere wholesome and familial, or at least thinking about food and naps? Maybe the whole Thanksgiving "family-ness" makes me want to feather the nest and where better to start than to find a man? Of course, just thinking about a man, any man, doesn't get me one. No one seems to know any good men. It's a sad state of the world when there are no good men. I have to hope that there is one left, and I'll be greedy enough to grab him if he would make himself known. So, be warned, if you speak to me, watch what you say as there might be consequences of smut of the mind or pleas for a man. Either way, not pretty.

a Man

Okay, all you girls, reading this post, you gotta find me a Man...a Good Man. I cannot divulge the entire why. It's nothing nasty or anything. Partially, I'm becoming distracted and cannot work or concentrate or focus on anything worthwhile. I'm used to my former dysfunction who would constantly distract me with stupid emails throughout the day. It kept me busy. Busy begets busy. No distractions are really starting to distract me and make my mind wonder. Of course, to what does my mind wander? To inappropriate and distracting men. To the brother-of-Andrew-type-of-man and not to the Andrew-type-of-man. To the off-limits-type-of-man, like the Eagle (Sharon, have you joined me here yet?)...just to have someone in my head. I need distraction!