Dating ( Totally the D Word)

I have been happily divorced for over three years.  Three years ago, one of my adorable children (who shall remain nameless) told me ever so casually that if I dated someone they would kick them in the nuts.  First I just stared.  I wasn’t talking about dating.  Why were they talking about dating?  Then we talked about appropriate behavior.  That conversation was met with a convincing stare.  Some day I would have to choose someone really tall and have cat like reflexes to save their business and avoid mortification.  I mean, you can’t be at a point where you introduce someone to your kids and ask them to wear a cup…can you??  Jeez.
My thoughts at that time went something like this: “This is me…offering it up.  I didn’t choose well the first time.  Please just send him to my door with a neon sign above his head and Jesus on one side and Buddha on the other, okay?  Then I will know.”  Of course, that won’t work now because I’ve gone and told you.  In reality, there was so much required of me, I couldn’t see where anyone would fit anyway.
Time passed.  We settled in.  Things got better.  I would have periodic offering it up conversations.  “Why do you keep parading that fella in front of me?  I don’t like his hair and he didn’t pick up after his dog.  I can say no.  No.”
More time passes.  My daughter starts telling me when she thinks she sees someone checking me out.  I tell her thanks and come on…I don’t give my number out in stores.
So eventually someone waves a neon flag at me and I get to realize I didn’t forget how all this goes and it is quite nice actually.  I also realize I like face time…not screen communication.  Good to know. 
The kids, meanwhile, have told their dad I am engaged to Steve.  They think this is wildly funny.  Who is Steve I ask.  They fall out with the hilarity of it all.
I am sort of opposed to strangers.  Only one time I broke my only-Facebook-friends-if-I-know-you rule and that creeper was blocked in no time.  Wow.
I am working on getting out and about to places that bring me joy.  I’m not much of a museum girl, which is odd because I have been thinking about it a lot.  So I got a membership (and a cool pin) and went.  Here is what I figured out…I like to walk around and soak it up and listen to others, but not so much with the talking.  Antisocial, huh?  Maybe.
Some things haven’t changed.  I’m shy.  I saw two very handsome men when I went in to get my bangs trimmed.  One was in the chair and the other was behind it.  Since they captured my attention, what did I do?  I looked away of course.  Why didn’t I watch the cut?  I could have picked up a few tips for my work on the boys.  Then when I got up to head to my girl, they gave me the best good morning and a nice big smile.  I returned the favor of course.  I will speak to you, I just won’t let you catch me watching.
All in all, it’s not so bad or scary.
Good news.
I won’t tell you to stay tuned because I’m not much for play by plays with all this.
🙂
DZ

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About attraversiamodarmaz

Midwestern girl who loves big city shopping (note - do not love high heels of any kind) * hate to say that first because I fancy myself a yoga chic too who is into feng shui and a minimalist life but it's just not all true!* I do forget to recycle* LOVE reading and music and most things crafty (the idea of them - very fickle and creative urges come and go faster than light or sound)* Grand chef and baker in my own mind and kitchen - love to mix and match recipes for a glorious new concoction* Gardening would be very successful - I have a flair but short attention span can cause casualties* True bliss is my home filled with three beautiful children (four on the weekends - an amazing Goddaughter)* did forget to feed the beautiful children lunch once when they were too small to remind me* can't find socks for all on some crazy mornings* I'm a learner who just can't help it...a writer in my head, and a college instructor for a half dozen classes a year* can't help my right brain optimism* been a foster mom* am a very grateful mom of adopted children* worst life moment: leaving the E.R. with an empty baby carrier* this is me...pretty much
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