Sex and the 60 - The Dream

(OK, Dr. B. This one is for you. Now I expect to get my money’s worth when we meet again. Channel Freud.)

I guess dating is on my mind and finding just the right guy must be occupying my unconscious hours because I had a dream last night, oh boy. And this was a long dream, even interrupted by a few wakeful moments. But in it I met a cross-section of arresting characters – all in one night, all without moving my fingers or my feet. It was just like those effortless days back in the 70’s (well not really!).

It started in a roadside bar. As was the routine, Carrie and I were sitting at the bar. The bartender was in love with Carrie – they all were – and was giving us free shots of Tequila. As was also the routine, Carrie and I, from our vantage point, scanned the room while chatting with each other. We talked but always looked like we were accessible. It was a skill honed through years of experience. If a guy came by that we did not want to talk to we just locked eyes on each other and made believe we were having an intense conversation. Generally they moved on; only the stupid or drunk ignored the signal and did not move along. Those few were dealt with a hard stare and “excuse me but we are having a conversation here.” Once they were clear, the room sweeping began anew.

The first character sidled up to us. We both looked at him quickly and gave each other the signal that we would give him a few minutes to make his case. Now remember this is a dream so there is no logic to what happened from here on out. He looked into my eyes and said. “It is not the roses that I bring you, but the fact that I thought of you when I saw them. It is not the bath that I draw you, but the fact that serving you is my only desire.” I am mesmerized - he is the Man that Spoke in Platitudes. Then poof he was gone and in his place was a younger man; he looked about 35 and definitely in his prime. Oh lord, I remember him. In the dream I started to turn my head to look in the bar mirror but somehow I knew it might scare me awake so I stopped, but when I looked around again, he was gone – the Hunk was gone. He was replaced by an old man, who started talking in mid sentence. …”and we live very close to one another. I looked at the map. I visit friends, go to the supermarket and collect S & H Green Stamps. Do you know …?” Oh, my god it was the Geriatric Guy. I quickly looked around for help from Carrie but saw that she was now in a deep conversation with a very tanned man with silver white hair. He spoke without moving a muscle in his face. Oh, yes, this was the Tanned and Tightened guy.

That is when I woke up, it was 3:58 a.m. and the 2 cats stirred as I sat up for a second to look around then rolled over and was immediately transported back to the roadhouse. But now all of the tables were gone, as was the bar. Now it was a senior singles dance. I scanned the room and saw several men wearing dickeys. Strangely they had no shirts on, just the dickeys and a suit jacket so that their bellies were bare. And all of them sported large round bellies that looked like they were about to explode. There were three men in polyester leisure suits – remember those, with the wide lapels and crazy colors and patterns? And around the room were several men in white unstructured sports jackets and jewel tone tee shirts – the Miami Vice guys. None of them looked like Don Johnson in his prime!

Then I was dancing – dancing with Carrie and she was laughing and saying “turn around, turn around.” I knew I didn’t want to but I did. There, not inches from me, was a man about 400 lbs, his flesh vibrating as he gyrated to the music and he moved even closer to me and began to do The Bump. Remember that dance? At first he bumped me lightly then more vigorously and then he Bumped me right across the room into a chair next to a man holding a baby in each arm. He asked me if I wanted to hold one – Oh no it was the Grandpa Man. I ran toward the now rematerialized bar and the safety of my chair next to Carrie. But I never made it, instead I was in the middle of a circle of men and spinning, spinning “Hi, little lady”, the Cowboy sang out. “No children? You had no children? What a pity”, the davening Rabbi whispered. “I just need $50k to open my restaurant” the unusually tall and handsome young man in kitchen whites pleaded. There was a guy on his knees, next to him a full laundry basket and in his hands a ring box, “please marry me, please, I have a new washer/dryer with a steam function and a Dyson vacuum.” I tried to break through the circle of men but was blocked and then they all began to chant – “Go Philly’s, Go Philly’s, Go Philly’s”. I sank to the ground…

Thankfully, that’s when I woke up. Exhausted, sweaty, heart palpitating and head pounding. I didn’t try to go back to sleep – I may never sleep again.

See you next time!

Sex and the 60 - Technicolor Girl in a Black and White World

There is a theme in my life. I am a round peg, trying to fit into a square hole. For some reason I just keep trying to hammer myself into the hole. I think if I twist here, or squeeze there I can make myself comfortable. But….try as I do – the fact remains I am a Technicolor Girl in a Black and White World.

OK look, I’m not tooting my own horn here or being a snob, I’m just telling it like it is. New Jersey is a Black and White World – that is to say drab, dull, boring, dreary, mind-numbing, lackluster, uninteresting and tedious. I’m not talking about the scenery, which in some places can be very beautiful and inspiring. I am, however, talking about the collection of the most one-dimensional men on the planet. They are so monochromatic that I look like a Technicolor dreamboat!

Now calm down you New Jersey guys reading this (that includes you girls who have settled down with Jersey guys). We all know there are exceptions to the rule and this case is no exception. There live in New Jersey many interesting men, but they do not appear to be eligible at this time….taken they are and thus not on Internet dating sites. If they are, they are so far and few between it would take me 100 years to meet a keeper in my “trading zone”.

So, what’s got her all riled up? Well, it’s been a busy, busy week. And to be honest I have begun to weigh the choice between being alone for the rest of my life and continuing to beat my head bloody on the Internet dating wall. There is a strong reason to continue - fodder for the blog, but although I love you is this too steep a price to pay for a little attention from you? Maybe! Yes, there were a flood of candidates this week. But in the interest of time and the need to “keep the funnel full” in case the black and white well runs dry (not likely!) let’s just take Grandpa shall we? He is representative of this week's crop.

So, I get his email. It is short and sweet. He’s a widower, I’m a widow. He likes my picture, I like his, he read my profile and thinks we have much in common, and I read his two-sentence profile and get nothing – hmm...shades of grey. We speak briefly on the phone and the invitation for dinner is made. A girl’s gotta eat, right? Boring dates to the uncoupled are just like arguments to the coupled – inevitable and just part of life/love.

We meet at the restaurant. He is driving a white car with black interior, wearing black pants, a black turtleneck and a grey faux linen jacket – he brings white wine! Yes, it is a white tablecloth restaurant and the décor --- you guessed it – black granite and white marble. Now when I go on these dates I ramp myself up, tune myself up – goose myself up. When I get myself amped up, out pops the engaging smile, the interested and concerned expressions and more than anything, the humorous anecdotes and knife sharp wit that punctuates the evening. It is an old sales trick…and I shift into selling gear without any effort. I can talk about everything and anything (except the Phillies!). I can make them laugh, I can make them cry and I can regale them with stories of the past and dreams of the future and all the days in-between. I always leave them wanting more….yes, always…it never fails – I’m Technicolor.

But here’s what happens. When he talks everything is black and white --- the career as an accountant, the number of grandkids, the T-ball events, the little one’s recital, the tooth fairy, the daily grind of living alone. The future is unknown – “I want to live long enough to walk my granddaughter down the aisle”! The “I love the beach, movies, grilling and would like to try a cruise someday” and let’s not forget – “Go Phillies”. Everything is just black and white, black and white. Where is the color? Where is the person inside this man? Where is the loop that one can hook onto to find someone of depth…someone who can change your world? Rock your world? Show you something new? Where is the man that leaves you breathless and wanting more? How can he keep up with you? Well even if you want to slow down - really slow down - all you get from this is an offer to become a surrogate grandma to a tribe of children not even of your making. I don’t want to live my life through anyone’s grandchildren. I want to live whatever is left of mine fully and completely - for Me and for He if there ever is We!

I know this is not a funny blog…and I’m sorry, but sometimes you know, sometimes, this ridiculous endeavor is not funny at all. It is frustrating, disappointing and depressing and since you are all rubberneckers to the accident of my dating life – drive by slowly and thank God that it’s not you! Then step on the gas and get the hell outta here!

I’ll be back…yes, I’ll be back…and hopefully in a much better mood! See you next time