The Reject

I was on a date last week. Suprise, suprise. I know, but really, I was.
I wasn't too pumped about it - and not because the guy's profile was off, but because the night before I had met up with a guy and he turned out to be uh, less than charming. He was putting back the wine like Elliot Ness was about to walk into the bar, and then bragging to me that at 40, he loved, and I do mean, LOVED to party. He socked them back and I kept checking my phone...wishing I had the balls of my girlfriend to just walk out on the date, but I stuck it out and had him tell me in a drunken slur that I was 'veeerryy nice.' Prince Charming was laying it out there (in between an inebriated hiccup or two), and I tallied it up to another unsuccessful date, so I held out no hopes for door number two- that is, date number the night after.

But I was wrong. This date was smart, interesting, nice looking and we held a conversation. We enjoyed a few appetizers, a few drinks, a few laughs and when the bill came, I grabbed for my purse and he waved his hand and said 'please, no - let me.' I have to admit - even in this day and age and as much as I enjoy the equality, I truly appreciate when a man pays for the date. We turned to leave, and yes, he held the door, walked me to my car and asked me if I would like to do this again. To which I replied, 'definitely.' He gave me a hug goodbye and I turned and got into my car and thought, 'well, it wasn't an immediate 'spark' but he was definitely someone I wanted to see again.'

I didn't think twice about not hearing from him the next day, and I still didn't think much of it when I didn't hear from him the day after that...but as the days went on - I began to wonder. And when my Captain Picard girlfriend (who boldly goes where this woman has not gone before) told me to drop him a text saying hi and Merry Christmas, much to my discomfort, I did it...and you guessed it, no response.

So this has got me thinking...how could I be so wrong? I've rethought the date, and tried to think if there is some sign that I missed, some story that I might have told that nailed the coffin lid down on the date...but try as I might, I just can't see it. The neurotic in me, or the scientist, would really like to be able to ask him - what was it? what didn't you like? but of course, I am not going to do that. Even Picard would not be able to 'engage' that one, nor ask Number One to 'make it so.' Sometimes you just have to accept that there was just no spark for him.

But it's difficult, isn't it? And it's hard not to take that rejection, well , personally. I have been told I have a great picture, and it's got me to thinking that maybe I just don't measure up to those expectations. It is a good picture - professionally taken. but it is me - perhaps the real life me just isn't as good as the two-dimensional? This is a very dangerous train of thought to go down. In today's day and age, and with my insecurities shining through, I have to accept that not everyone I meet is going to find me attractive. Just as I have viewed their pictures and when I've met them in person, I think they are not quite what I was expecting either. So, I can speculate and try to ascertain 'why he didn't call me again' but really - why? Regardless of the reasoning, the outcome is still the same: we're not going to see each other again. And is that so wrong? No. Am I disappointed? Yes. But if I really think it through...the only people I seem to be attracted to are the ones I can't have - and there in lies the rub. Perhaps, that is the very thing I find attractive.

If I think it through like an experiment - I have to admit that on these few chance encounters that I have decided that i think it would be nice to see them again, I realize that I only think that I would see them again if they called. And, although it chips at my ego when they don't, I am quite thankful - looking at it in hindsight - that they didn't. Because I still believe in that spark. I still believe that there will be that moment that I will share with someone - when there's undeniable chemistry - and that has yet to happen with anyone I have dated thus far.

So what's my point.
Rejection sucks...but not half as much as settling. It's more important to be true to what you want and who you are then to 'score' a second date with someone who is looking for something different than what you are. That's the bottom line. So the fishing line remains in the water. And I continue to learn the fine art of fishing, and mastering the baiting.

Christmas Eve

For those of us who live far away from family and are unable to make the trek back home to be with them it can be a pretty lonely time of year. It's easy to wallow in self pity and wish for things to be different and maybe even wonder at what point what went wrong - whether there was some cosmic reason for things to have derailed the way they have and to lament over what misery has befallen us over the past many months or even years.
It's easy to go there, but not the easiest way to spend the holiday.

Christmas may be a time for family, but really - what defines family? I think it's my 'family' that keeps me from feeling so morose and sorry for myself because when I really sit back to think - I have more to be happy about than I do to be sorry for. The things that are not as good are not longstanding things - these are situational and are things that will not follow me or stay with me forever. These are minor annoyances in the grand scheme of things.

But my friends - my friends are positive things in my life that just seem to grow and nurture, and are supportive and steadfast. I have been blessed with friends, some I have nicknamed and written about here, others have been referred to but all have encouraged and loved, supported and cried with, laughed and enjoyed. My family of friends is what makes me thankful and as we come to the close of another year, I am so very awed by their strength and wisdom.

I am reminded of the story of "Footprints" when a man has a dream where he has walked on the beach, two sets of footprints in the sand where his life was good and full, and one set of footprints during his trials. He asks the Lord why there were one set of footprints during his trials, why had the Lord left him? The Lord responds that when the man's life was good, the Lord walked alongside him, but during those trials, and when there was only one set of footprints, that was when the Lord carried him.

I was thinking about that earlier - and it made me smile. I think if I were to write my own version of footprints - it would go something like this:

I am standing on a beach and turn to look back over my life and I see in this last year there are my footprints, a few kneemarks in the sand where I have fallen down, a few handmarks where I have refused to get up, then deeper marks where I sank down - afraid and alone - trying to catch my breath. But then, a set of footprints appear. Then another set, then another and another. These footprints come from every direction - congregating on the one spot and they are flurried in their movements, appearing haphazard and senseless. But upon closer look, these footprints aren't lost or without direction and purpose. These footprints have come together to support and then to play. Perhaps, it was a pickup game of beach volleyball. Some members of the team are 'bumpers' - they dig in, catching the ball before it hits the sand, keeping the ball in play and setting it up for the 'setters'. The setters are agile, nimble fingered and pop the ball high into the air for the more aggressive team members - the 'smashers' or 'spikers'. These members drive the ball out of our court (or sometimes fool our opponents with a gentle tip) and remind us that we are so very powerful when we work together as a team.

I stand there, feeling the breeze on my face, and taking in the sight of all of these footprints...and realize that I am part of a family right here. My family of friends and THAT is why I am smiling this Christmas Eve.

Thank you to each and every one of you.
My thoughts, my wellwishes and my love are with you all.

Master baiter

Insanity has struck. I think I have discovered the real reason that I am woefully unsuccessful in dating. I am not a good master baiter. That's what it is. I need to learn how to do this myself before I can expect others to grasp the uh...concept.


It's all in the preparation you see. The set up is imperative. You have to have the right mindset. You have to be in the mood - set the stage and get it all ready. You have to know what makes it work for you before you can expect someone else to know how to work it... you have to....what was I talking about again? oh yeah, master baiting.



Is it really like fishing? Do I grab the hook, decide on the lure and throw it in the water and hope for the best? Or, do I decide what would be the best bait? The best bait is determined by what kind of fish I am trying to catch. In this lovely analogy - the man is the fish and I am the fisherman...er - person. I am in control - the one with the firm grasp on the rod and the line. I just have to choose the correct bait - become the master of the bait, which means a deep indepth study of the fish.



The master baiting experiment has begun. What kind of fish do I wish to attract? Well - that would be someone I can have a conversation with, so some semblance of intelligence would be nice. Like-minded, and interested in some of the same things as I am (but not all - heavens to betsy, I do not want a male version of me!). Attractive would be nice - I have to admit, I have a thing for men's hands. I saw a pair of hands a few weeks back that made me want to reach over and touch them to see if they were as strong and masculine as they looked.

but until I meet him - I'll keep practicing my technique, doing the research and learning to be - thank you Seinfeld, master of my domain.

We'll always have Paris

Watching the tail end of "Casablanca" this afternoon reminded me of love and loss, selflessness, how music can transport you back to another time, how memorable movie lines like 'here's looking at you, kid' resonate in the deep recesses of the romantic heart.

The line that stuck with me was "We'll always have Paris." How many of us can say that there was one person that we spent some time with in our past, and that they got away...maybe the line would be "we'll always have Vegas" or "we'll always have Venice." I can think of a few friends who have shared their stories with me and I love how they tell the story. They set the scene, describe the man they met, how they met him and how the story unfolded - the days spent getting to know each other, the nights spent learning each other - and then the bittersweet goodbye. One said they even tried to keep it going, a long distance romance that grew more and more distant in their hearts until they could no longer keep up the ruse. But, they would always have 'X'.

Since I have never really travelled anywhere, I don't have Paris or any other place for that matter. So I started thinking that it wouldn't have the same ring to it if you were to say "we'll always have Saskatoon" or "Esterhazy" or how about "Medicine Hat"? And the only thing that comes to mind with these is the likelihood of it being frosty and cold, involving the warming up or breaking down of a car, and that the 'hero' of the story played hockey, football or farmed. Definitely, not Bogie.

But maybe it isn't the rich destination that you need - maybe it's just the feelings you have at the time. It's those romantic exchange of glances, the moments when you realize there is indeed chemistry, the butterflies you get when they're a little closer to you, the first time that you touch, the first kiss - the time spent together, the feelings that you had, the romance of it all...but if that's all it is, then why doesn't "We'll always have the copy room" have the same romantic attraction?

Nope - there's something about Paris...and something I hope to experience.