6.5 Months (or so) Later

Well, actually it’s closer to ten months since I’ve posted here.Fifi-Roberto-open-season-2-25058326-640-480

I was reminded of this fact last week, while dining with Favorite Niece and her friend Sugar Pumpkin. Not only had I not written in 10 months, they said, but the blog link wasn’t even working. (I forgot to pay up for the domain name.)

Apparently, Sugar Pumpkin wanted to re-read my last post, Six Point Five (6.5), about online dating, which she recently signed up for. If I were her dating coach (and thank goodness I’m not), I would seriously discourage her from reading that post. Unless she was trying to make herself feel better about her own experiences. But I have to keep my 2 loyal readers happy, so I promised to renew my domain name, and that I’d make an effort at a new blog post.

I didn’t write for all those months because I lacked time, and lacked material.  I was busy with a new job, and things on the dating front were going well for a change, which does not make for good copy. That’s not to say there weren’t some blog-worthy, moments (dating 2 Christophers for 2 months, for instance, both inadvertently invited to my birthday dinner, etc.) but it hardly seemed worth a post.

And then, in March, I fell in love with one of the C’s, and could not bring myself to write about it. You have to have some mad writing skills to make falling in love sound inspiring and beautiful, and not gag-inducing drivel. I was certain I would achieve only drivel, so I didn’t even try.

And the difficult parts of falling in love again seemed too self-indulgent and first-world-problemy to describe. And the fact that Cufflinks (his nickname, to help my friends differentiate the two C’s) is a very private person didn’t help either.

But here I am, 10 months after the Six Point Five post. Cufflinks and I lasted a few months, and it was as wonderful and as complicated as it gets when two 40-something people try to open their hearts again. We adored each other, and laughed our faces off drinking scotch and playing darts in his loft. I had moments of perfect happiness when he cooked for me. He genuinely wanted to take good care of me, and he did.

We tried to make it work, but I fell apart a few times. There were schedules to work around, and fears to navigate, and concerns about the future, and blah, blah, blah, you know, all that boring stuff. I ended things before they could evolve into something better and stronger. I think was trying to end it before my worst (albeit totally unpredictable) fears could be realized. It was a hasty decision made in an emotional moment, one that did too much damage to fix.

But then this has been The Year of the Phenomenally Bad Decision (TYOTPBD). I’ve made a few big ones, in every area of my life, (home, job and love). The changes were big life changes, and the pressures were enormous. I don’t like the person I became in the living situation I left in haste in May, or what the pressure of the job (that ended yesterday) did to me. I don’t want to hurt anyone the way I hurt Cufflinks, ever again. All these things ended on the worst of terms.

But I guess I am like Fifi, the selfish and volatile poodle from Open Season 2, voiced by Crispin Glover.  Fifi gets his due in the end, and Roberto, the otherwise dimwitted basset hound says “I gotta admit, he kinda had that coming.” It’s tough to feel sorry for myself right now. I got myself into this hole. I kinda had it coming. Time to crawl out.

But even though I had that coming, I’m still heartbroken about it all. But I am also resolute, and uncharacteristically optimistic (if you catch me pre-2nd glass of chardonnay, that is). I mean, I HAVE AUGUST OFF. And, just to be safe, as a cautionary measure, last night, I made my 3 closest girlfriends promise to help me avoid making any more PBDs (phenomenally bad decisions) for at least a few months, so I can get back on my goddamn feet again.

And maybe I’ll even write more with all this free time. Perhaps for Sugar Pumpkin, I’ll even force myself to date again, strictly for blog inspiration, and under the very close supervision of my girlfriends, of course.

More Food, Less Pain,

-L