Tag Archives: relationships

I never imagined

imageOn our 15th wedding anniversary, my husband and I had a special dinner at a restaurant on Martha’s Vineyard. The meal was a bit of a disappointment, but the company was good.

After we had finished our meals and were somewhere between entrée and dessert, our wedding song came on over the restaurant’s speakers. I was touched and felt my eyes well with emotion. I thought to myself “we should dance.” There wasn’t a dance floor (it was a restaurant), but we could have managed a twirl or two. It was our 15th wedding anniversary.

I’ve thought back to that night a few times and wonder what might have been different if I had forced the words “we should dance” out of my mouth or if he had said “I arranged for this song to play.” If either of us had done something to demonstrate our love for the other. Would it have been enough to have prompted us to steer our ships once again to be side by side and in the same direction? I’ll never know.

By our next anniversary dinner, we were, in retrospect, clearly sailing in different directions. It was a fancy meal, perfectly executed and filled with laughter. We met the chef-owner and there were many bottles of wine uncorked. My feet hurt in their new shoes. It was good to feel something.

It’s almost 5 years later now and I never dreamed this life that I’m living. I write and run and work and eat and take pictures and I love, love, love. I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt and am equally inspired by today and the thought of tomorrow. Things may not have gone the way I imagined they would, but as an inherently grounded person, my imagination is sometimes too timid.

I never imagined I’d quote Hugh Hefner but he said it perfectly:

“In my wildest dreams, I could not have imagined a sweeter life.”

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Filed under aging, love, marriage, musings, relationships, writing

Advantage – taken or given?

imageEleanor Roosevelt once said that “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Do you think we can apply this logic in a broader sense to situations in which we feel advantage has been taken of us? Do we somehow give permission to people to take advantage of us?

There are particular incidents in my life that continue to bother me despite the passage of time, usually because I failed to assert myself. I essentially gave someone an opportunity to make me feel inferior because I failed to stop them. When I think about those occasions I find myself replaying the scenarios, inserting a response that I only wish I had conjured up during the original altercation. You know, the perfect retort just too late. I want a do over.

The older I get, though, the less frequently I feel the need for a do over. I’ve learned that the discomfort of directly dealing with a person who is threatening my sense of what is fair or reasonable, is less damaging than perpetually looping the incident mentally afterwards. Ultimately, it’s better to give someone a piece of my mind than to allow them to just take it.

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Love, me

Image: //www.techiy.com

Image: //www.techiy.com

Don’t even approach my body unless you’ve first been between my ears. I’m 48, not 18.

True love isn’t roses and chocolate. It’s starting my car on a winter’s morning or bringing home pizza on a Friday night.

Love is buying me the Sunday paper on Saturday so I don’t have to go outside on a cold morning.

Love means being able to continue to believe.

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Filed under aging, holidays, love, musings, relationships, winter

Counting (on) friends

If you peek at my Facebook account you’ll see that I have more than 700 virtual friends. Pretty impressive, right? Thanks to the wonders of social media, I am absolutely swimming in friendship!  Look a little closer, though, and you’ll discover that many of my friends are people I don’t really ever see, except for online.  Whether it’s due to distance or time, we simply don’t really have occasion to be together in real life.  Does this mean we aren’t really friends?  How do you define a true friend?

Over the years, I’ve learned that the number of friends I have isn’t really that important.  No, that’s not really how I measure friendship.  You see, it’s not about the counting of, instead, it is very much about the counting on.  True friends are the ones on which we can rely upon to do as they say and follow through on their promises, regardless of how infrequently we actually see one another in person.  Those are the people who add immensely to our lives.  Each day brings a new opportunity to be that kind of friend.  Count on it.

 

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Make(s) me happy

Many years ago a friend in the midst of the disintegration of her marriage, told me she didn’t want to be responsible for her husband’s happiness. Since that time, I’ve learned what that felt like and I’ve heard other women say the same thing, although not always using the same words. Who are you responsible for making happy?

I’ve learned that I can contribute to someone’s happiness. I may on occasion even inspire another’s happiness. But, when it comes to making someone happy, I don’t think it is possible for me to make it so. The only person I have the ability to make happy is myself.

I may at times be self-indulgent, but I don’t believe I can accurately be described as selfish. When I think about making myself happy, it isn’t at another’s expense. In fact, if I don’t take the time to ensure my own pleasure with life, the only one who pays is me.

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So? What made me happy today? A morning yoga class (more about that tomorrow), errands and chores, a long walk with my celebrity dog,* watching a hawk swoop across the road in front of me, cooking some simple and delicious food and the anticipation of a half-time bubble bath.

What did you do today to make yourself happy?

*Did you see Jeter in Thursday’s Times Union?  He’s been recognized each day since his photo was published.

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Filed under aging, musings, Observations, relationships

Dog years and the passage of time

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The day we first met Jeter

The youngest of my “boys” recently celebrated his first birthday and, while the occasion was a happy one to mark, I also noted the date with a tinge of sadness. That year certainly went quickly. When I thought about the number of years we got to love Cassidy (12.5) and started doing simple math in my head, I got a bit melancholy considering how few more years we can expect Jeter to be our baby. It simply doesn’t feel like nearly enough.

I don’t dwell on the lack of how much time remains, but I do find myself conscious of it. I’ve been thinking a lot about time recently. The older I get, the more I value it. What to do with my time and who to spend it with are two of the most important decisions I make each day. What once seemed infinite has definitely evolved into being one of life’s most precious gifts. It’s true, time is a present and I’ve vowed to become even more discriminating about how I use it.

When it comes to time, how long are you willing to invest in someone? What length of time would you give a person to show you their very best? A week? A year? Or, are you of the mindset that we’re all works in progress and it is acceptable to wait forever? It’s a tough call, one we each have to make (and live with) ourselves.

How do we ever know if we’ve done the right thing(s) with our time? As my oldest son gets ready to make decisions about where to continue to his education and to leave home, I wonder how the time of our living under the same roof went by so remarkably fast. Is he ready? Did his father and I sufficiently prepare him for what comes next? Was our time together well spent?

Is there a way to ever truly know? Or, maybe a means to just slow down the clock?

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Filed under aging, Boys, family, love, musings, relationships, Schools

(Not)OKCupid

Disclaimer: What follows is my own limited experience on a free dating site.  Two things to remember, everything I share below is painfully true and you get what you pay for.

Last week I went skiing with a friend and we, as women do, got to talking about dating and the state of our romantic lives.  She had recently signed up for an online dating site, OKCupid and showed me some of her “matches,” none of whom looked too scary.  Like me, she is a busy, divorced mom not into the bar scene.  As a purely social experiment, I decided to follow her lead and create an account myself.

Monday, I began the new week with a new online profile.  My screen name, Notadaywasted, summed up my life philosophy and I embellished my profile with minimal details and a couple of random photos which had already seen the light of day on Facebook.  Within minutes the messages started coming…

Most of the messages I received were simply overtures like “Hello, pretty lady” or remarks about my appearance.  None were from anyone to whom I felt compelled to reply.  I had listed a range of ages I might be interested in (40-55), but this did not prevent a few twenty-somethings from contacting me, a state of affairs (ha!) I found disturbing.  I mean, I already have 3 sons, know what I mean?

As the day moved on, the messages continued to accumulate.  One guy became increasingly explicit over a series of unanswered messages about what he’d like to show me.  Strike one, cupid, I didn’t sign up for vulgarities.  With each log on to the site come suggestions for matches.  Growing up, there was a kid in my town who reliably responded to any and all requests for a match with the following: “Do I have a match?  Not since Superman died.”  Well, I think a dead Superman would have held more appeal than 99% of the potential matches tossed my way. Strike two, cupid.

The final nail in cupid’s coffin, alternately known as strike 3, came when a friend of mine going back to my undergraduate days, sent me a message asking me how the hell I ended up on an online dating site.  My response?  More rapidly than Katniss’ arrow flies, I deleted my account.

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