My Shade? "Newport".

Lipstick Summer.
It's happening.

I have started wearing matte pink lipstick. Like real, 1980's soccer mom Lipstick, Capital L.
So have my friends. It has a shape and everything.
So, my last Summer of my twenties will be the Summer of Lipstick. It only seems appropriate, don'tchathink?

Times Flies; Are We Having Fun Yet?

How did it get so late so soon?

Its night before its afternoon.

December is here before its June.

My goodness how the time has flewn.

How did it get so late so soon?

- Dr. Seuss



Damn right, you're dancing at my wedding.

Time is just flying by. A month since this, six monthes since that. A year ago, two years ago...
I once read that the older you get, the quicker you experience time passing.
I couldn't agree more.
We're getting older, kids. We're getting wiser.
I'm getting older. I'm getting wiser.

The Little Veruca Salt in Me is Singing...

I want the world.
I want the whole world.
I want to lock it all up in my pocket.
It's my bar of chocolate.
Give it to me now.

I wanted this to be my wedding dress. I even inquired about the price.

 

I want an ass you can bounce a quarter off of.



I want to be this combination of rock & roll and gypsy.



I want this sort of drama when I walk through a room.



Sometimes, I want to be blonde.

 

I want to be a fashion icon
(I've always loved this Vogue cover.) 

 

On & Off, Off & On... May I Have Instructions For This Light Switch, Please?

this flips my switch a bit.

Certain guys have had me staring at my phone literally willing them to call or text me with the weight of an anvil on my chest until they do.

Certain relationships have hit the "on" switch in my heart so fiercely they've left me close to crazy.

And then... other guys, even one's who are hot with a capital H have me thinking, "Meeh... Next please!" 

I get that this is a universal truth; that everyone has this switch, but it just has me thinking; what is it in our hard wiring as humans that causes us to be flipped on or off so instantaneously? Why can, months or even years later, simply thinking about someone make my heart pound a little faster?

(Case in point: 12th Grade boyfriend, Ben G. We went out for a month, but only on Fridays. And I still remember exactly the way the green specks eyes looked up close and the way he smelled.)

Or the opposite: Why can I be so OFF at times? When my five year long relationship finally ended, I simply said to him, in a crowded bar, "You and me... Yeah, this isn't working for me anymore" and I haven't spoken to him since. Nor do I think of him often. After my Superman/Troll date, I (quite cowardly I admit) ignored his calls and texts for a couple days; I shouldn't have, but I did. I just didn't feel the spark with him - there was no feeling of being the only two people at Tapas - quite the opposite actually, as I distinctly remember a verrrry handsome man sitting at the bar...

(Craigslist's Missed Connections have turned up nothing, unfortunately...)
And when I finally texted Superman/Troll, and told him I wouldn't be seeing him again, apologizing for my cowardice but explaining that something had simply "shut off" in terms of my connection with him, I received this text in return:

You're amazing, you are like no one I have ever met... our attraction and closeness moved at light speed, which is something I have never experienced. Please don't back away because you're scared. It's not like I'm not. Sorry, I can't give up this easily... Whatever I can do for you, me, us I am willing to do.

How the F does this thing work?

I didn't respond. I didn't agree. And it made me wonder how he could feel that way & I could feel nothing of the sort. How I could just be OFF when he was so ON. How in the past, why have I been ON and the guy was shut OFF. (Ben G.!)

BUT...
What creates that electricity?
What is it that flips that switch?
What creates that spark!?

I need to know. I want to find it! 
Its like a drug! I need that drug!

I saw it flick on in the Aussie's eyes the first moment he saw me. Knee pressed to knee by the end of the night, sitting at that bar, I was lost, I was spinning; the electricity in me had been switched "On" for the first time in a long time. On our second date, alone in a restaurant filled with people - my heart pounding & my mind racing with, "If this man is who he presents himself to be, I could very easily fall in love with him."

I know that this spark is what I am hunting for; I've said it time and time again. But now I want to figure out what is was about him, about the couple other crazy-makers, that electrified me so much. I could give you a laundry list of things I liked about these guys: highly intelligent, almost to a scientific degree. They were manly men, who took the lead - (now that sounds very macho, but that isn't what I mean) but at the same time were (for the most part) gentle with that leadership. They made me feel valued. The ones that really took my breath away made me feel valued for my brain or creativity more so than my looks, but made me feel beautiful as well. Their intelligence challenged me.
Laundry list, schmaundry list! Really, there are plenty of guys out there just like that that I have no spark with. I went out last night with someone nice and good looking and smart and tall and a gentleman and... Meeeh, next please.

It know part of it is simply human nature; that we've evolved as people to mate with the 'best' mate we can find to make strong babies, I get it. But then, no I don't. Not at all. What is it about the fact that the Aussie inherently understood that restaurant menus overwhelm me & dealt with it so that was a sign to my uterus that he'd make strong babies?! (If you know the answer to that, please tell me. I'm curious.)

Sometimes I laugh in the car  thinking to myself that the entire point of being human is to find another human to 'bump uglies' with. Its such an odd thing, sex, if you really think about it... But, I digress....

All this being said, I am quite happy being single, I just get a slight twinge when I think about the Aussie, and then compare him side by side to other people I have gone out with, or have known.

That light switch is a damn curious thing.

I Never Really Thought About It Before, But...



...lately, I have really missed having a couch.



Avoiding Candyland.

I admit, I have a little of what I call Look at Me! Love Me! Syndrome. I know enough about myself to know that to a certain extent I use online dating and perhaps even this little blog - okay, I use attention - as a way of getting validation. I don't think I'm the only one; comedians want people the laugh at their jokes, don't they? I think it is all part of being human.

Laugh! ...because I'm funny!

Like me! ...because I'm smart!

Look at me! ...because I am beautiful!

Read my blog! ...because I'm interesting!

Want me! ...because I am sexy!

Love me! ...because I'm worthy of love!
Look at me! Love me!

I like me, I feel beautiful most of the time, I think I am intelligent, and know that I am deserving of the love that I feel from my family & friends & even from my past boyfriends. I also know I can be a bit of a narcissist, and in the past I have let this little syndrome of mine create some poor patterns of behavior but these days my LMS is more white noise than anything else.

However, this past weekend I was witness to an interesting version of LMS:

My First & Only Date with the 49er.

So, I knew he was older, obviously, and I knew he was shorter than I usually go for but height requirements are becoming less and less important to me; we had nice emails & interesting (and long!) conversations on the phone, so I figured, Why the hell not? He was quite attractive in his photos, and is in a place in his life that seemed like a good fit for me. We scheduled a date for Saturday. By the time Saturday rolled around, I'll admit, I was exhausted. After my tapas date on Thursday, and the nice time I had with B---- Friday, I was kind of over meeting the 49er, to be honest. (I like B---- though I find myself forgetting about him sometimes, so thats not good).

I'll also take this sort of Head Candy.

The 49er planned what sounded like a neverending  list of things he wanted to do that night - first stop being a quick trip to the art gallery where he buys heinous yet extremely expensive Mandarin artwork & then to a rooftop bar for a drink, then here, then there... 

I knew as soon as I met him there was not a physical connection. But, I continued on... I mean, what's one evening?! Over the course of the entire night, I experienced a feeling I have never felt before - I learned how it felt to be judged en masse as someone else's symbol of validity. As as trophy, no different than his Mercedes. You may say the 49er has LM$.

I want attention for being smart, clever, pretty, lovable yadda yadda yadda.... but I believe that the components of the 49er's definition of what makes him lovable are the complete opposite of my own. And the screams of his own need for validation from others - his art dealer, the other bar patrons, the maitre'd - they were deafening.

Laugh! because I can buy you things you can't afford!

Like me! because I'm successful!

Look at me! because she is beautiful!

Want me! because I am powerful!
Love me! because I'm worthy of love because of my successes!
I felt like I was nothing more than his arm candy - a living breathing symbol to everyone around us, me towering over him yet eighteen years below him: "Hey! I may be short and old, looks fading, but LOOK AT MY GIRLFRIEND! I have her because I'm richer and more succesful than you!"  And I felt as though I was being judged by everyone around, "Look at her, younger & pretty and just digging for gold. She's only with him for the money." I mean, if I was a bystander at the restaurant, that is exactly what I would think. And I'm there, uncomfortable, thinking to myself, I am smart, I support myself (albeit a bit hand to mouth), I have things to bring to the table other than being somebody else's symbol of success. My date with the 49er was the closest I have ever came to inciting Code Blue. You know, it was less about others' judgements of me, because if I had had a connection with him I doubt I would've cared; but I think one of the reasons that I didn't have a connection with him is because of the underlying elements that he used in constructing his value system. That he wanted a trophy.
(He was also 'wife-ing' me pretty heavily, the creeper; things like, "our house" - as in his, and "your boutique"- as in the one he'd open for me.) I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

As much as I love good old fashioned attention, I don't want to be simply arm candy; and I don't want arm candy. I don't want to be a cheap symbol of anyone else's success. I want my next relationship to be a symbol of our success as a couple - two people that compliment one another and work together to be better, stronger and happier.

You love me! I Love you! Look at us, we are smart, clever, intelligent, attractive, successful and kind together!

I want to be loved for who I am, not for what I represent.
I want to be head candy, heart candy. & I want that for myself too.
Sidenotes: I don't have any other dates on the horizon, other than a vague "I want to see you soon" with B---- (who has stillnot told me about his test results, argh! he's so cryptic sometimes!) 
And I met an extremely sexy Englishman while I was out and about on Sunday (in Real Life!!) - I apparently have developed a weakness for men with accents. Oh, but what woman doesn't?!?
& Goldi is still riding the rollercoaster with the Lawyer.

My Mother's ABC's

I recently came across this song my mom wrote when I was young...
As a kid, it all seemed like good common sense - "No duh, Mom!" but revisiting it as a poem as an 'adult', it resonates with me on a totally different level.

Before I started this, I actually took a notebook and titled each page with a letter and its corresponding rhyme; instead of journaling in the old fashioned way - or, in my case, pity-party fashioned way - I have been 'filling out' my ABC's of Self Esteem. 

So, I wanted to share:

The ABC's of Self Esteem

A is ask for what you need

Be be yourself that's the best way to be

Ccc Take care of your health

and we'll all be hap,hap,hap,happy

Ddd Do the right thing honestly

and don't forget to Express yourself

 me me me me me me

F is for feeling your feelings

don't let tears get stuck inside

G for good friends

H for hugs

I for imagination

let the J joy out of your heart

a little Kindness goes a long, long way

and spread Love every day

M means mistakes are Okay (it's Okay to make mistakes!)

N for right now cause now's the time

to really sieze the day

Strive to be outstanding in all you do

Perfectly imperfect is perfect it's true

so ask alot of Q for questions

you'll get answers you will see

Respect yourself and others

like a family

say Sorry when you need to

you'll feel better when you do

the T for try again

I believe in you

I do I do

so be Understanding

of those with differences

celebrate your Victories

you've Worked hard

X is for the crossrouds you meet on the way

follow your heart it knows which way to go

Y is yearn to learn

and Z play the kazoo

follow your heart it knows which way to go!!!!!

copyright Dava Sheridan 2011

The Superman Switch.



We all know that one of the 'dangers' of online dating is the accuracy of photographs... It's a given. Some people look better in photos, some worse. We only use our best ones (or most clever/exciting) in our profiles, I mean, I know I do! It just comes with the territory. You're essentially advertising yourself, so no - you're not going to put up that haggard picture of you at 4am in New York hugging a newspaper stand, now are you?
That being said, on Thursday I went out with someone who - intellectually speaking - I really relate to. He seems to get me. The two of us have spent hours on the phone, & he has been able to pick up on huge parts of my personality from even the smallest nuances and personal statements. For a man - for anyone really - he is intuitive and he is intelligent and kind. He has is life together, has great friends, owns his own company... and a boat(!). I like him. But I was a little worried that attraction would be an issue; I knew he was a bit bigger and shorter than I usually go for, but on personality alone he was already ahead of the game, so I figured it wasn't super important - I am a big believer that a fantastic personality can make almost anyone attractive. And vice versa for that matter; how many people have you come across that are really good looking until they open their mouths?
So we agree to meet at a tapas place downtown.
First thing I notice is that from straight on, he's the spitting image of Dean Cain, TV's beloved Superman:


Fantastic looking fellow, don'tchathink?

It's going well... The sangria has been poured, & my nerves are subsiding.
And then I notice It.
He looks over his right shoulder to say something to me...

...and all of the sudden,

he looks like a Troll.

Oh God.

Front on: Dean Cain.
Right view: Troll.

Front on: Dean Cain.

Left view: Troll.

Glass of sangria in: Shiny, droopy-eyed trollish Dean Cain.
It started to happen faster...
DeanCain.
Troll.
DeanCain.
Troll.
DeanCain.
Troll.Troll.Trooollll.
He is the human version of the above optical illusion.
OldLady.YoungLady.OldLady.YoungLady.
Superman.Troll.Superman.Troll.
I don't want to be a shallow person. I really don't. And I by no means am trying to be cruel, but you know when you get something stuck in your head and you can't get it out? (Think the mole scene in Austin Powers here.)
Looks aren't everything...  Unfortunately, I just can't get that out of my brain, and it really ruined the possibility of a "spark" for me. I just kept fearing the troll. He was great; it's nice to know that there are men out there who are intuitive & know how to listen (add those things to my ongoing list of things I want and deserve in a man). I am still working on how to tell him there is not going to be a second date.
Aye aye aye.
Sidenote: 3rd date with B---- Friday. He's comin' to my hood. He's had a rough week. I'm excited to see him.
1st date with the 49er Saturday. We'll see how that goes.

Yes, Please.

I've realized that what I miss most about the Aussie was not, in fact, the Aussie himself. (Well, maybe a little).

It was the instant and indescribable connection.

The Spark.





now, that's what I call electricity.





Forgetting the Prince + Remembering Girlfriends.

After scanning the room, my mother spotted a little blond girl,

Sweetie, what's your name? Lisa? Well, Lisa - this is my daughter. You two are going to be great friends.

And with that, she had us hold hands and triumphantly march into Kindergarten, together. She was my first friend - through kindergarten and first grade, not so much through middle school, again through Myspace, and now - nearing thirty, peripherally through Facebook. She looks exactly like her mother did when we were - and she was - young.

Thank you, Saturn. Thankyouverymuch.

 In eighth grade, my binder was covered in the bubbly writing of a fourteen year old obsessed with Gwen Stefani and fitting in - written out were phrases and words that would be Greek to me now - long forgotten inside jokes, boys' names and song lyrics. Inside the binder, were notes from my friends about boys, school and eachother. Throughout high school, maneuvering through the throngs of other (invisibly) insecure and hyper hormonal teenagers, I sought refuge in a few friendships that seemed unbreakable - until one of us would get jealous or competitive and we would end up back stabbing or in some cases, front stabbing, one another.
Around nineteen, I was known to utter the phrase,

You know, I just don't get along with girls, I just get along with boys soooo much better.

Of course, at 19 I thought all other girls were competition - I only wanted to hang around guys. I thought that would somehow make me The Winner. (But it also meant I had no friends without the ulterior motive of sex.)
At 23, when I moved in with my boyfriend, I stopped returning some very good friends' phone calls. I actually listened to said boyfriend when he told me he thought my friends were flakey and stupid. (But, by listening to him and alienating my friends, it was in fact me being the stupid flake, wasn't it?!)
And it's only now, over the course of the last year, that I have finally realized and learned to appreciate the true value of good girlfriends.
Thankfully, gone are the uber-competetive & comparitive friendships of growing up; I believe, as women, we are taught to veiw one another as constant competetion - to our own detriment. It starts young - think of Snow White and her evil stepmother or Cinderella's terrible step sisters. Without reading into it too much, haven't we been told over and over again that it's the Prince who'll save us, who will complete us? And that other women out there are just competing for his attention at the Ball? (Or the bar.) Whereas most men like other men until they have a reason not to, we as women are taught not to like other women until we are given a reason to. Until then, we tend to veiw eachother as rivals. Why?!
Not everyone outgrows this veiw, unfortunately - we all know those women out there who instead of being an ally are constantly trying to one up you. I've been that friend & I've had that friend.
So, newly single, over the summer, at 28 and a half, just as Saturn's Return really begun to "test my character and the structures I built my life upon" I realized, I have no friends. I mean I had friends, but for the most part they had all grown up or moved on and away or they were fully aligned with my relationship with my boyfriend. Talk about 'structurally unsound'...
Thankfully, the good friends from before forgave me my flakey stupidity and were (and are) there for me day & night when I need them. I can call them crying, laughing, cursing or crazy as a hobo. And I hope they realize, and I think they do, that I'm game to do the same. Old aquaintances have fallen away. Old habits have been broken.
As time moves forward, while I'm restructuring and reevluating the way I have lived my life, I have been lucky enough to have stumbled upon a couple more. I no longer veiw other women as rivals; I no longer have friends just to call for Happy Hour - It's something so much deeper now. I have friends to call for hummus & wine. I have friends to keep on Code Blue (Something Bad Happened!) Alert during a first date. I am on Code Blue for theirs. I have two hour long phone conversations with these girls. I have friends who call just to see how my day is going. I have inside jokes, I have running partners, coffee clatches. I have a friend who, if I really needed her to, would drop everything and hope on a plane to come to me. I have a friend, that at 10 PM last night, would've jumped in her car and been at my house if I asked her to. Don't even start me on the mix CD that may have been made a couple Saturdays ago...
You see, I finally have friends that make me laugh like a seventh grader, but not cry like one.
I am no longer a Snow White or a Cinderella competing against her enemies & waiting for her Prince to save her; instead I am a happy little dwarf living and laughing alongside - not against - many other dwarves. I can lean on them, I know their strengths and their faults and they know mine. And I love them for it.
I think, perhaps, I need to seriously date my friends for awhile.
Forget the Prince. I'll be with my dwarves.

Sidenote: I have cancelled most dates going forward this week. I handed myself a fucking eraser.
Also, Goldilocks & Platonic-Guy are friends again. In real life & on facebook. Troubs and I may or may not have played a roll.

Dating for Dinner



Will someone please hand me a fucking eraser?

I spent 2 hours last Thursday trying to figure out if I had plans this Saturday. I thought I must - otherwise Goldi and I would have plans with one another! I went through all my texts, emails, facebooks and entire call history trying to figure out why I had no plans on Saturday. Goldi and I couldn't believe we had overlooked such an important day of the week. We had.

So, that being said... I've been Dating for Dinners this week. Like, you might say dating has become my full time job & I'm being paid in food. Literally we're talking nothing but dinner and conversation. Hell, kids - this is a recession & I'm being economical over here! Maybe, just maybe, I will meet someone who makes my heart flutter! Most likely, I'll just have a really good steak. Perhaps, both!?! To be honest, scheduling has been a nightmare, especially finding time to fit in the second and third dates & if you asked any of the below Dates about my week, well, I've been quite busy attending fundraisers, birthday dinners & cocktail parties,

A Cocktail Party on a Wednesday???

"Oh yeah, sorry... I already RSVP'd. Why?! I go to cocktail parties on Wednesdays all the time. Don't you? Uh, how about Thursday?

So my 'Dance Card' reads as follows:
Last Sunday: Date 1 with B----.
Last Tuesday: Date with Troubs. Easiest date ever as he is an awesome dork and I adore him. No sparks.
Thursday Afternoon: 38 minute coffee date with The Rager. 38 minutes too long.
Friday: Date 2 with B----, bewildering. Frontrunner. But, he doesn't compare to the Aussie.
Saturday: Much needed Goldilocks & I sushi date.
Sunday: Date 1 with the guy from Ohio. (Accidentally double booked this night with someone else who I am not attracted to but am intellectually stimulated by. Flaked, and have yet to reschedule.) Liked Ohio, but he is no Aussie. (Naturally, as no one would argue with the equation Ohio < Australia, now will they?)
Tomorrow: Possible Date 3 with B----, he wanted to hang Saturday; I declined. Sparks yes, but he is no Aussie.
Tuesday: Date 1 with the 49er. We call him that but he's really only 47. Real potential although he's a bit short. But, he's no... Yeah, you guessed it!
Wednesday: 2nd date with Troubs. I want him to be my best friend. My Guy-BFF 4Ever.

Thursday or Fri: tentative date 2 with the guy from Ohio.

It's as exhausting as it looks. (I know! As my mom would say, Solid Gold Problems...) 

But I am starting to see a pattern... I am comparing everyone to My Aussie.
(I'm assuming you noticed.)

...& no one compares.

I probably need to take a break from dating for a bit to get over My Aussie. (That'll have to be next week.)

I am beginning to realize I didn't fully allow the feelings that came along with the break up to process & now I am meeting other guys & all I see, hear and feel is that these other guys aren't... Him. They aren't Jesse.

In reality, I am weighed down by the idea that I wasn't this or I wasn't that...

I'm sad that I couldn't be everything for someone I respected and adored so much. Granted, I have started to see my Aussie through rose-colored glasses, and have to remind myself that I struggled while we were seeing eachother as he was not perfect either. He wasn't there and he wasn't ready. But we had something that I am not finding in this forced world of dating I've been over-scheduling for myself. And you know what they say about finding something when you're not looking for it. I wasn't looking for him; I was looking to 'practice date'. I was looking to see what - if anything - was out there.

I may have replaced  my Australian with being fed by cute boys who think I'm pretty.

But hey! This is a learning process! I'm learning!
(And hopefully, soon, I'll stop talking about that damn Australian.)

2 for 2 for 2 : Bewilderment & B----

"They have my favorite wine here!

Yes, I know. That's why I picked the restaurant. That, and the view.

"I'll have a glass of...

No, we'll take a bottle.

So started, perhaps, the most, well, bewildering date ever.

That bottle he picked, it’s a nice one.

I was asked to stay away from the $130 abalone plate, very politely.

And though I do love abalone, I went with the Ahi Tuna.

As odd as this date was, it ended with creme brulee, a glass of desert wine and a whole lot of kissing.



un-nickname-able?!
unbelievable.

Sidenote: I have no clever nickname for him. I've tried a couple out, but nothing has stuck. He even is just a regular name in my phone - between "Poor Dude" (not returning his calls - I mean texts, as he has no line to line service on his phone, only texts messaging) and "Sean in Plaid" (nickname: obvious - he was wearing plaid) there is simply 'B----". I've never not been able to nickname someone: Text Message Boyfriend, Bartender, Superman, My Aussie (who I have begun to miss terribly! Damn you, setting the bar so high!), American Psycho (that should've been a red flag), Maroon 5 - the list goes on & on. I nickname everyone! And these nicknames, they stick! I mentioned the "inappropriately aged" guy I dated to a client - & close friend - today and her response was, "Oh yes! Maroon 5!"
But I digress…

So Date #2 with 'B----', we'll call him:

Just like Date #1, I left not sure of anything really. I left electrified, and mystified. He is impossible to read. I originally attributed this to us being unable to read one another, but oh no... I now realize, and he confirms, that he's is simply impossible to read. He makes no recognizable facial expressions; he is either smiling or he’s not. This is not to say he doesn’t have emotions, he just isn’t expressive. You can tell that behind his blue eyes, there is a lot going on in his brain. It’s mysterious, but I suspect it could get quite frustrating in time. He likes me. He likes that I am affectionate. He doesn't know what to do with it, but he likes it. B---- is pensive, quiet and thoughtful; quite the opposite of me. I’m transparent; you can see what I’m thinking if you just look at my face.

He starts to open up after about an hour…

It was just his birthday & I asked what he wanted to accomplish in the next year. He responded to the effect of, "Live everyday to the fullest."

(He speaks in short, concise sentences.)

Today, he continued, his doctor told him that they suspect that he either has diabetes or cancer.

YES. That happened. Boom.

Side by side in a booth at the beautiful restaurant of his choosing, he dropped that on me. His eyes welled up. This now makes me 2 for 2 - 2nd dates & my date fighting back tears (and 2 for 2 on having a glass of desert wine at the date's end). He who I cannot read, he who shows little emotion, he who I cannot seem to break, broke a little.

I can tell you think I am holding back - and honestly, I went to the doctor today and they think... They're gonna run some more tests...

I cannot wrap my head around this. I didn’t know what to say. So, being Miss Articulate, I respond,

What a shit day.

He leans back, I kiss him. Hands intertwined, he responds without irony:

What a perfect way to spend a Friday. Look at this view.

I laugh, and in poor taste, but good humor say,

Good Lord, if that is just a line to get me into bed then I feel like I'm in an Owen Wilson movie.

Cringe. I look at him. He smiles.
He is handsome. He is afraid.
I am the only person he’s told this news.

Ummm... Why do my second dates always end up so intense?

Today reminded me that you have to live everyday as it could be your last.

“Yes, B----, but that's our reality every time we get into a car, or walk on a side walk. You never know what’s going to happen.

I wore this.
But with pants.

2nd date with B----: Lovely & romantic. Odd & sad. I'm as confused as you are.
I received one compliment tonight, out loud,
I like your whole look - I like your whole thing.

 (It was not 'til I started dating again that I realized men [or at least men attracted to me] appreciate style.)
I received many compliments without words.

I don't know about the future with him, but I am trying to learn to appreciate silence, the actions-speaking-louder-than-words side of dating... And definitely, to take each day for what it is - we are not promised a tomorrow.

I do think there will be a third date. But then again...

Are You a Good Witch or Are You a Bad Witch?

The Wicked Witch tells me that I have bad teeth. She also tells me that my hair is stringy.

The Good Witch tells me I have a great smile. She reminds me that I look really pretty with my hair upswept in a sidebraid.

I'll get you, my pretty...

The WW cackles in my ear,

Remember all the stupid things you've done?

To which the GW sings,

But don't forget about the smart!

The WW reminds me of the mean and the GW reminds of the kind.

My Witches cackle and sing - they go back and forth all day, everyday. I imagine we all have those two battling voices in our heads - and we listen to the Witch screaming or soothing louder that day, that week or that year.

This past year I have felt much like the original Dorothy maneuvering herself down that damn Yellow Brick Road; trying to find a way home, making friends and enemies along the way, learning as I go. I've listened to the cackles and stumbled into dark WW territory and I've seen the vibrant, fulfilling, and happy places that I credit to listening to the GW's song.

For the most part, these days, my Good Witch is singing in-tune, at the top of her lungs - that I'm doing well, I'm worthy of the happiness & love that I feel. My GW is happy and she is loved. She is out in the world, making the best of each day; resilient & strong, and having a great time at it. The Good Witch & I are a good team, letmetellyou.
But sometimes that asshole Wicked Witch  has been able to convince me that I have nothing going for me or that I'm abrasive or selfish or all of the above. My WW is all those things. On a particularly bad day, she might even convince me that I'm unlovable. And unfortunately, sometimes I've listened. The Wicked Witch and I - we make poor decisions, we are careless and we are shortsighted.

Hopefully, like the OG Dorothy, I safely get 'Home' - defeating whatever flying monkeys or runaway hot-air balloons that come my way. And, like her, I am going to need the help of my Good Witch and my friends to help me get there.

We all do.

Dorothy couldn't have done it alone and neither can we.