So This Is What It's Like!

Okay, so I had a highly enjoyable drink on Friday night with B and then met F face-to-face on Saturday morning for fifteen delightful minutes over coffee and had a marvelous dinner and drive out into the country on Saturday night with L. Umm, if my clock is working correctly, that's spending time with three different men over the course of twenty-four hours.

Trust me. That has never never never happened in my entire life. Maybe three different men over the course of twelve months. In fact, I went for the entire year of 2005 with zero dates - count 'em, ZERO. Oh wait, the Kayaker and I went to dinner once that summer but I think we were already past dating by that time. (Aside to the Kayaker: no insult intended if you viewed that dinner differently than I.)

I've always wondered what it was like to be "popular with the boys". I was never popular. Now consider my best-friend-since-second-grade, Gail. She was popular. She's 5'10", thick long blond hair, drop dead gorgeous, MENSA brilliant, and off-the-chart nice. Guys followed her around like puppy dogs. I imagine they still do.

Me? I was gawky, totally lacking in self-confidence, always trying (not very successfully) to fit in. I had boyfriends: Danny (now a successful sound engineer in Orlando) in fourth grade, Ernie (now a successful psychotherapist) in fifth grade, Buddy in sixth through eighth grade (Oh, how I loved him. He was adopted, too. We identified with each other.) Buddy's mom made him break up with me — something about me not being good enough for him. Ninth grade - nobody. Tenth grade - nobody. Eleventh grade - ah, Jim S. (Now a successful physician.) I finally had an identity: I had a boyfriend. Gail's boyfriend that year was Jim J. The two Jims didn't like each other when we all started dating. They lived next-door to each other in the boys' dorm, but didn't hang out at all. But Gail and I were inseparable — she was the sister I never had. So by the time we all broke up, the two Jims were best friends.

College was pretty bleak except for a period at UCF - Mike P. Ah, Mike. The great love of my youth. But he was smart enough to know he wasn't ready to get married, and I thought marriage was the be-all and end-all and ultimate goal. A year later, Terry came along, believing God would have him marry me. Oh well. Sometimes we makes wise decisions and sometimes not. (Aside to my sons: do I need to reiterate that I wouldn't trade you for anything whenever I talk about the misery that marriage was for me, or are you secure in that now and I can let it go?) (I wouldn't trade you for anything.)

People did want to be around me, but only for my ability to play the piano. Doug proposed to me in eleventh grade. Well, sort of. I think his exact words were "I'll marry you and cook for you and clean house and everything if you'll just play the piano for me when I get home from work every night." That's sorta a proposal, huh? I ran into a high school classmate in Washington 25 years after graduation. We were seated across from each other in a classroom and he looked over at me and asked, "Do you still play the piano?" So that was my identity.

But back to three dates in twenty-four hours. I'm friggin' 56 years old! I've never known anything like this in my life. And I'm quite enjoying it, thank you very much. Each man is unique and interesting. I leave each date thinking, "Hey, that was nice. I want to do that again."

And back to unfinished topics: I spoke with Mr. Match on Thursday night. He wants to get together this week to talk. And y'know what? If that boy wants to pick things up with me, he's just gonna have to get in line. Nobody's ever stood in line for me before. He can freaking stand in line!

Wow! I had no idea life could be like this!