Robbye's World

After feeling rather invisible to potential paramours lately, I’ve recently had a few interesting interactions with various men. One of the places I go for live music is a plaza surrounded by 3 restaurants and some businesses. After my awful margarita/wine experience, I pretty much only drink wine now. I went to the bar at the restaurant where I usually get a glass of wine. There were 2 men at the bar, one of whom was wearing a Raiders hat. I’ve been an Oakland/L.A./Oakland/Vegas Raiders fan since I was in grade school. I find that some people who wear Raiders gear aren’t really fans and just wear it for the esthetic. I asked if he is a fan and he is, so we started talking Raiders, football, then sports in general. The man he was with said he’s in sports media (writer I think), but I didn’t know him. Anyhow, we all 3 had a lively sports conversation and then I went outside for the band I was there to see. I wasn’t attracted to either man, although the Raiders fan seemed interested. He didn’t ask for my info, and didn’t wander out to where the band was playing, so maybe not.

Another time I was in one of the other restaurants, and that one has a lot of TV’s tuned to sports. There was a football game on, so I stopped to ask a couple of random men if it was an old game or a preseason game. They told me it was a preseason game. The younger of the two men proceeded to flatter me and flirt hard. The attention was nice, but he was just too young, and frankly a bit too aggressive. So I took my leave and went outside to enjoy the band.

The last encounter was also at a bar where a band I love was playing. I don’t like the bar, but I love the band so I went anyway. A couple of my friends were at the bar, and sitting a few seats away was a rather attractive man. I mentioned it to my friends. Then I noticed he was closing his tab. I leaned over and asked if he was leaving already and he said he was. Oh well. Imagine my surprise when a few minutes later he came to talk to me.

Unfortunately, the more he talked, the less interested I became. It wasn’t what he was saying, it was the odd way his mouth and head moved when he talked. I’m looking for a long term relationship, and I just couldn’t see me looking at that every day! He wasn’t suffering from a handicap or physical deformity, he just talked weird. At one point a friend came up to me and told me he knows that man and he’s an assh*le. I don’t know if he really is an assh*le, but that kind of sealed the deal — I wasn’t going to give him my info. He did ask for my number, but didn’t write it down saying he’s good at remembering numbers. I figured he was just saying he’d remember it and was really just looking for an out, so I gave him a number, it just wasn’t mine!

I figured that was the end of it. I was wrong. The next weekend, this man I don’t recall seeing before the previous weekend showed up for the band I was seeing at a venue across the city from where we met. It took him a long time, but he finally came over to talk to me. He said “you gave me the wrong number!” Oh shit. What am I going to say? So I nodded my head and said with a wry smile “yeah, yeah I did.” He still kept trying to talk to me. He said something about him thinking I might be there and looking for me. I don’t know about that, but luckily a friend came up to talk to me and distracted me. He eventually wandered away. I would think giving him a wrong number on purpose would be a giant hint that I’m not actually interested. Perhaps he thought he remembered it incorrectly, or that I gave him the wrong number accidentally. Whatever. While I appreciate the attention, it’s attention from the wrong men.

A few months ago I was at one of my favorite places for live music – sitting outside at the Hut. A woman approached me and asked if I am Robbye. Why yes, yes I am! I don’t recall how, but she came across my blog. She said she knew exactly who I was talking about when I wrote about the pitcher. Not the ghost³ pitcher, but the one I met during my online dating days. We shared a few anecdotes, and indeed we had met the same man. Not surprisingly, our stories were very similar. Not surprisingly, we were both grateful the interactions with him were brief! For some unknown reason he texted me a while back. I did not respond.

I have to admit – well, I don’t have to, but I’m going to anyway – I still think about the ghost³ pitcher. Not every day, but enough that I feel so completely stupid. I’m angry, partly at him that he turned out to be a liar, a coward, and an assh*le, but mostly I’m angry at myself. It is one of the biggest disappointments of my life. Not just disappointed that this man who gave me such peace treated me like garbage, but mostly disappointed in myself for putting up with it at all. I’m disappointed that it’s been 4 years since I’ve seen him, 3 years since I’ve heard from him and I still think about him. And that leads to thoughts of other men in my past, other disappointments, other huge mistakes. It deepens my anger and disappointment in me. It’s made me seriously question if I’m capable of finding the “right” man for me, if such a thing even exists.

I have a friend who wants me to try online dating one more time. I don’t think I even have the energy, let alone the inclination, to do that again. My track record of a lifetime of the wrong men and really bad choices have made me think I’m better off not trying. It’s harder for women my age to find a good man. They all want young, thin, and blonde. I’m none of those things. I’m 10-15 pounds overweight, and like many women in our late 50s, I carry it in my midsection. I can’t make myself younger. I could dye my hair blonde, but it’s so long and grows so fast that it would cost a fortune to maintain. Plus, I really don’t want to have to be someone I’m not. I have to face facts and accept I may be alone for a long time. That’s still preferable to being with yet another wrong man. Again.

A few years back, a friend and I were going out to dinner. I met him at his place and had a glass of red wine. We then went to a Mexican restaurant near his home. I typically don’t drink liquor anymore, but that night I was craving a margarita. Drinking a margarita after a glass of red wine was not the best choice. I forgot the old warning: wine before liquor makes you sick quicker. It made me sick enough that I couldn’t eat my dinner, and I love Mexican food.

Fast forward to September of this year. I went on a road trip to Phoenix with friends to see Pat Benatar. My friends were drinking beer. I do not drink beer. It makes me full and sluggish. I brought some red wine, and on the drive up I had the equivalent of a medium sized glass. When we got to Phoenix we went to a Mexican restaurant. You can probably see where this is going. I wanted a margarita. What happened the last time I mixed red wine with a margarita went through my head, but I thought eh, that was a fluke. It was not.

One glass of wine and one normal sized margarita and by the time we got to the venue I was wasted. It felt like I had chugged a gallon of wine. While attempting to walk to my seat I tripped on a chair and fell really hard on the chairs and then the floor. I got up and wobbled to my seat where I continued to feel worse. When my friends got to our seats I told them I didn’t feel good and they called the EMTs over. A friend and an EMT had to help me to the first aid station. I was so embarrassed. Luckily there weren’t too many people down in the arena, but there were plenty watching me have to be helped by 2 people just to walk. I kept apologizing to the EMT and explained what happened. She assured me they had seen much worse! While I’m sure they have, it didn’t make me feel any better.

I proceeded to spend the entire opening act laying on a gurney in the first aid office. It was very bright and cold in there, but at least I could clearly hear the band. I missed the first few Pat Benatar songs (I’d seen her three times before so it wasn’t the end of the world) until I finally felt well enough to rejoin my friends. I managed to enjoy the rest of the concert, although much more subdued than usual. I will never again drink wine and follow it up with a margarita, or any hard liquor for that matter. Once is a fluke, twice is a warning.

Tucson is blessed with a number of really good bands, and countless great musicians. I have a large group of friends that go out for the same bands so I see many of the same people when I go out for live music. It doesn’t lend itself well to meeting new people, and definitely not new men. Most of the time.

One day in late February I was at my favorite place for live music (shout out to the Hut on 4th Avenue). The bands almost always play outside, as they were that day, and many people bring their dogs. I looked over at a table and there sat 4 people: a man I know I’ve seen around but did not actually know, and 3 other people I don’t recall seeing before. One was a woman with a large standard poodle, and 2 other men. One of those men was very handsome! He looked my way and I thought I saw an attraction there, so I decided I was going to meet the poodle, yeah, the poodle. That’s it.

I walked over to the table and I asked the woman if I could pet her dog, and conversation ensued. I sat down and joined them. It was a good conversation amongst all of us. I learned their names including the dog. I will call tall and handsome man Doug. After a little while I got up to go dance to a favorite song. As I got up Doug said “let me know if you want to dance.” It didn’t really register with me until about 15 minutes later. I’m not used to dancing with someone in particular, I’m usually just dancing in the vicinity of friends. When it dawned on me that I had totally ignored his invitation, I turned to go back to their table but they had already left. Damn it!

A few weeks later I saw the woman, her husband and her dog at the same place. No Doug. So I explained what happened and she laughed and said that Doug had wondered if I was even interested. I assured her I was. Months went by and I hadn’t seen him again, then surpise! He showed up at a totally different venue with the husband of the woman with the poodle. When I saw Doug I went right up to him and told him how happy I was to see him and gave him a big hug. A friend I was with went with me to a table and we talked with Doug and his friend for a while. Amongst other things, he told me I have nice shoulders. That’s a compliment I’ve never heard before! And he’s right, I actually do have nice shoulders. After a while, me and my friend went back to where the band was playing and I thought I’d see Doug a little later, but I couldn’t find him. He had left. Bummer. Who knew when I’d see him again.

A month or so later he showed up at the place we originally met. We greeted each other and went to a less crowded area to talk. I asked a friend to come with me. For some reason I didn’t want to be totally alone with him. I started to feel what I can only describe as odd. I didn’t really know anything about Doug and my brain didn’t seem to want to work so my friend was asking the questions I should have asked: what do you do for work, do you have kids, etc. Basic things we somehow hadn’t gotten around to yet. I continued to feel odd. I told him I needed to get back to my friends and went to go sit with them.

I really did not feel well. My stomach was very upset, I was light headed, and got unbelievably tired to the point where I thought I could fall asleep in the middle of the bar with a loud band playing. I eventually started to feel better. Another friend was talking to Doug, and she assured me that he was interested in me. A little later I looked for him, but again he had already left. Huh. Well okay then. He can’t be that interested if he’s not even going to ask how to get in touch with me after seeing me three times.

Another month or so passed and there he was again at the Hut. I again gave him a smile and a hug. I sat with him and we talked. He again complimented my shoulders. At one point he asked if I snore. He seemed interested. Then a wave of the same freaky feeling as last time hit me. Upset stomach and an unbelievable desire to just close my eyes and sleep for a while. I told him I didn’t expect him to be there and that I didn’t want to ignore him, but I wanted to spend time with my friends. So I got up and went to hang with them. I had hoped to re-engage with him before he left, but no. Yet again he left without telling me or asking how to get in touch with me. He’s never asked for my last name, social media, phone number, anything. Apparently he’s not that interested.

As I reviewed the situation later I realized that my odd physical reaction to him was probably not a fluke. There’s something not quite right there. I’m pretty sure that if I’m lucky enough to have a “man I’m supposed to be with” he’s going to give me butterflies in my stomach, and not nausea and narcolepsy. The whole thing was just weird. Once is a fluke, twice is a warning.

I did however make friends with the people he was with when I first met Doug. All three are wonderful people to visit with, and the giant poodle is great too! So it definitely wasn’t a total loss. I feel like I probably got the best of that situation.

I’ve been married twice. My first husband was born on August 6th and is 8 years older than me. My second husband was born on August 6th and is 8 years younger than me. Yes, I know that’s very odd, which I did realize at the time, but they were totally different people. My 2nd husband is from an entirely different country for god’s sake! Ultimately, clearly neither marriage worked. Sadly, 3 decades later and my first husband still hates me and likely will until the day he dies. Luckily, my second husband and I separated before it got too bad and I’m very thankful to have him now as one of my best friends. Additionally, one of my worst heartbreaks was a man whose birthday is August 5th. Since then I refuse to date anyone born on or immediately around August 6th. To be fair, I haven’t been interested since then in an available man born around that date and I plan on keeping it that way. Once is a fluke, twice is a warning.

I was born in Tucson. Other than 6 months I worked and lived in Norfolk, VA, and the extensive traveling I’ve done, I have lived here all my life. I hate summer here. I have never gotten used to the heat. I’ve learned to manage it. 4 months of pain for 8 months of nice weather isn’t a terrible trade-off. But it is miserable right now. The hottest July on record, and humid. Our summer rains called the monsoon usually gets going around July 4th. It was several weeks late, and all we want is some badly needed rain, but so far the monsoon has sucked.

My mantra right now is “one day closer to summer being over.” My ex was in the military and did a tour in Iraq. He didn’t know for how long he’d be deployed, so I couldn’t count down the days until he’d be home. The mantra I employed was “one day closer to him coming home.” Since I don’t know exactly how long summer will last, I recycled it for summer. I usually try to get out of Tucson for at least a week this time of year, but I haven’t been able to for the last few years. My brother and his family live in Vermont. I told him they need to make me an apartment in the old barn so I can stay there in the summer. He said “we have a tent!” Thanks bro.

A lot has changed in the last few years. This may sound silly and superficial, but a big one for me was getting used to being in public with no makeup, not even mascara. My mother used to tell me that if you’re a blonde people look at your hair first, but brunettes have to look good from head to toe because people notice all of us. I’m not sure how true that is, and I honestly don’t appreciate being given that burden. As a result, I’ve been wearing makeup of some form or another since middle school, and taking the time to style my hair. I used to do the whole shebang: foundation, blush, eyeliner, eyeshadow and mascara. I never wore lipstick so I guess “the whole shebang” isn’t quite accurate. Digressing again…

Over the years I replaced foundation with powder, stopped wearing eyeshadow regularly, eventually eliminated blush except for special occasions. I always did powder and mascara, and always did something to my hair. When I started taking care of dad full time, I had a choice to get up a few minutes earlier to do hair and makeup to basically sit at his house all day, or get a few more minutes of sleep. Sleep won. Since then I guess you could say I’ve been lazy, but I really don’t care. If you don’t like me without makeup that’s too bad for you. I wear it occasionally and for special occasions, otherwise I don’t bother anymore. My current hair style is just long. It’s easy, doesn’t require frequent trims, and I can do different things with it like a side braid or messy bun. Don’t like it? Too bad.

Another change is what I call “pandemic pounds.” Before I got Covid19 last year, I worked out every day. When I got sick I didn’t have the energy to do much of anything let alone work out. By the time I had the energy the back pain I had been experiencing for several years was getting much worse. Sometimes just walking was extremely painful. I definitely couldn’t do the same workout anymore. After enough days of sometimes excruciating pain I finally saw my Dr. and had some x-rays done. I have an age related degenerative back issue along with some osteoarthritis. I did physical therapy, and have continued to do it on my own every day. I still have nearly constant back pain to one degree or another. It’s not often excruciating anymore, but it’s still difficult to exercise like I need to. All that to share that I’ve gained some weight: 20 pounds in the last 4 years, 10 of that in the last year. Most people tell me I look fine. I feel like a blob. I know I carry the weight well ( and I know how to dress to minimize it), but I’m still very uncomfortable with my body right now. However, just like with no makeup, this is what I look like. If you don’t like it that’s too bad. I’ve at least halted the weight gain. So there’s that.

Speaking of weight, many of you know I am a seamstress. I currently work at a costume shop. I used to work at an alterations shop. I literally lost count over the years of how many people would lament the clothing size they had to wear. Like a woman who used to wear a size 8 now wears a size 12 and feels bad about that. Here’s the secret about clothing sizes: it’s just a number (or letter). It’s a guide to help you find what fits for you. Most women know a size 10 from one designer could be an 8 from another and a 12 from yet another. It’s not that you’re the wrong size, it’s that that particular item of clothing wasn’t made for you. I am the shopper who will fill a cart knowing when I try the clothes on not everything is going to fit and not everything will look good on me. That seems to discourage many people, but not me. It’s not an indictment of me if something doesn’t look good on me, it’s just the clothes aren’t made for me. I don’t tell myself “I don’t look good in this,” and instead tell myself “this doesn’t look good on me.”

Over the last 4 years, I’ve told you about many of the men I had met online dating. And you know all about the ghost³. One of the men I met online and the ghost³ have one thing in common: they were both baseball pitchers. Both interactions turned out badly. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from either of them, or any of the other men I met online for that matter. I frankly didn’t really want to. A few weeks ago I got a text from a number not in my phone that read “Hi, I was thinking about you, how have you been?” After a little investigating I determined it was from the pitcher I met online. My 1st thought was “you have got to be kidding me!” My 2nd thought was “that’s the wrong pitcher!” My 3rd thought was “you f*cking idiot!” And then I realized that IF I had to hear from one of them at least the ghost³ isn’t a broken loser. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but I call ’em like I see ’em. I didn’t bother to reply.

As if this summer hasn’t already been crappy enough, my sweet 15 year old dog Sparky had a stroke in early July and I had to say goodbye and send him across the rainbow bridge. It was a pretty awful 8 hours before I was able to get him to a vet and end his trauma. His back legs weren’t working so I don’t know how that sweet boy came to my bedroom to wake me up. I knew it was bad when I saw he’d pee’d all over his bed. He NEVER pee’d or poo’d in the house. He looked so scared because he didn’t know what was happening. It broke my heart. He was still able to use his front legs to help me get a his 50 pound body into the SUV. Knowing he’d be going soon, one of my biggest worries had been that something would happen in the middle of the night and I wouldn’t be able to get him in the car by myself. Well, that’s exactly what happened, but thankfully I was able to get him in my vehicle. At the vet they put him on a gurney so he didn’t have to struggle anymore.

I adopted him and his sister 6 years ago when Layla was 6 and Sparky was 9. Their person died and the family couldn’t keep the dogs. His sister Layla has been gone for several years. She had a lot of health problems. Sparky can be with her and their original person now. Truth be told, I was actually looking forward to some aspects of no longer having to care for a dog by myself. I can leave my house for more than 6 hours and not worry about getting home to let the dog out; I don’t have to get up early to walk him before it gets too hot; it’s a lot less expense for me – old dogs need extra care, etc. Don’t get me wrong, I love my dogs. I did everything I could to make Sparky’s senior years as good as I possibly could. And I knew it wasn’t going to be easy when his time on Earth was done.

Even though I’ve experienced the loss of a dog many times, hsving had him for only 6 years I didn’t think it would be quite this hard. It’s the little things that get me. Whenever I’d go out in the backyard I’d always call for Sparky to come with me. I always fed him his evening meal before my dinner which dictated when I would eat. I didn’t know quite what to do in the morning because I always took care of him first. I miss his happy self when I’d come home. Things like that. He had severe hip dysplasia and bless his heart would continue to take short walks twice a day until the morning he died. He’s hopefully in a better place now, with Layla and their person, no longer in pain. But I sure do miss him.

I haven’t any good stories for you, or even bad stories. Thus I haven’t written a new post in quite a while. I hope you enjoy the short thoughts and events in this post.

I’m not the world’s best businesswoman. Having not yet owned my own business makes it more difficult. I’ve seen and experienced several things that make me wonder how could I know this and they do not. I was behind a business van in traffic. On the back of the van it had the business slogan and phone number, great graphics, but not the name of the business. Seriously, why make it hard to know what business you’re promoting? Along the same vein, there was a Facebook ad touting that a bar was under new ownership, come on out!, great drink specials, etc. No where anywhere was the address. Seriously? Why make it hard to find you? Several times I have had occasion to purchase a glass of wine at an establishment. The wine was $9. I usually pay cash (yes, people still use cash) and usually with a $20. The bartenders each gave me a $10 and a $1 back. Seriously? You’re just begging for a $1 tip. Give a $5 and 6 ones. You’ll definitely get a better tip.

Shout out to Clear Blue pregnancy tests. It’s the first ads to show females waiting for a pregnancy test result hoping it’s negative.

Also shout out to the “feminine hygiene” product company showing pads with red liquid instead of blue. Heaven forbid if we see actual pads and tampons with red liquid. I heard a story about a girl who was shocked when she got her period for the first time and it was red not blue.

I’ve mentioned before that I love sports, and I like football more than any other sport. I have a love/dislike (hate is a very strong word) relationship with the Super Bowl. I love the game. I dislike that it means no football for 7 months. I dislike that it means soon it will start getting hotter and hotter in Tucson. I do not like summers here. If I could spend mid- June til mid-September in the northeast with family and friends or traveling I would be so much happier.

Speaking of the northeast, I happened to be in Boston when hurricane Sandy hit. It wasn’t too bad in Boston, but we didn’t know that when we went for supplies. By supplies I mean we hit the liquor store before it closed up. Did we get any food or water? Nope. Batteries, candles, fill the car with gas? Nuh uh. Just liquor and beer. As it turns out we wouldn’t have needed those other things anyway. Heck, we only lost DirectTV for a few seconds.

Do we really need a butt crack deodorant?

I used to have a husky mix dog, and I usually walked her at night because it wasn’t so hot. Also because I used to be a night owl and didn’t get up early enough to walk her 1st thing in the morning. I saw things at night many people don’t see. One that stands out was a night during Christmas time. We lived in a townhouse on the west side in the foothills of the Tucson Mountains. We were walking in a part of the neighborhood where the houses were a little far apart, maybe 2-3 houses per acre. All of a sudden I hear people running. It’s like 11pm. Who the hell is running that late? Then 2 teenage boys came into view. Each one had a reindeer under their arm, the end of the light cord bouncing on the ground behind them. I don’t know if it was just a prank, but they had stolen 2 of the light up yard reindeer that had been decorating a neighbor’s front yard. They disappeared into the night.

We had other adventures in that neighborhood. There were some close encounters with two different herds of Javelina, a guy playing guitar in his driveway during a power outage, I stepped on a large scorpion in my kitchen. Thank goodness I always wear shoes for just that reason. There are too many critters in the desert that can hurt you: scorpions, black widow and brown recluse spiders, goats head thorns, countless cacti with painful thirns. I digress… And then there was the night of rattlesnakes. The townhouse in which I was living was situated between two washes. One evening I was walking on the end of the complex closest to the smaller of the two washes. I heard a rattling noise. At first I thought an animal was rustling the very dry brush that lined the wash. When I looked closer it was a very large rattlesnake sounding the alarm with his tail at a cat that emerged from the brush. Oof. Later that night I was walking my dog when we came upon a large rattlesnake that had been killed by a vehicle. Oof, but okay it’s a dead one. We walked down into a different part of the neighborhood and came across several brand new baby rattlesnakes. Oh hell no. I was done. I ended our walk early and we went home.

For dogs, barking at people who walk by almost always works.

Speaking of barking dogs, one of my favorite things is dogs in cars with their heads out of the window. I like it even more when they bark at other dogs as they pass by. On my drive to work one day I was behind a car with a dog in the back seat on the driver’s side. It had it’s head out of the window, but was pretty calm. Then the dog moved to the back passenger window and started barking. I looked around for another dog maybe being walked but there was none. There weren’t any cars on that side. Then I realized it was barking at it’s own reflection in the passenger side mirror! I laughed the rest of the way to work and chuckled about it periodically throughout the morning.

I love the Spring Mix salad, but I swear someone at a restaurant was running out of salad fixins so they went and pulled weeds and added them to red leaf lettuce. Viola! Salad.

It’s been more than a year since my brother died. I’m still working on wrapping up his estate. I sold the townhouse he shared with my dad. Before it was sold I of course had to get everything out of there. One day I was looking through stuff and found an old round cookie tin. By this time I was so tired of going through my dad and brother’s stuff that I almost just tossed it without looking in it. I’m so glad I didn’t do that. Inside was a few things my dad had saved: a picture of my mom who died in 1982, her whistle she used when she was an elementary school teacher, and he saved the hair from her hairbrush in a plastic baggie. The hair still smelled like her. I was stunned that he saved it, and so incredibly grateful. I’ve missed my mother every single day for 41 years and that’s the closest I’ve been to her in all that time. What an incredible gift.

One of the things I lost when I sold the townhouse was my dad’s washer and dryer. When I bought my house it had the washer/dryer hookups outside. Since I spent so much time at my dad’s, it was easy to do laundry there and I didn’t need my own. Once I sold the townhouse I finally had to get a washer and dryer. The problem, and one reason I didn’t do it until now, was that although they have hookups, there was no drain installed for the washer. The water was supposed to just drain onto the ground. Uh, no. I had a plumber at my house for something else so I asked him about it. He said it would be cost prohibitive and they’d have to cut into my existing pipes. Uh no. So I did some research (as I am wont to do) and learned that the best thing to do is run the drain hose to a rain barrel and run a hose from the barrel to water my trees and such. You can’t just attach a garden hose to the drain which was my first thought. A standard hose can’t handle the volume of water that drains from the washer. The drain hose that comes with the washer install was about 4 feet too short. Of course it was. So I thought I’ll just put in a longer hose. Nope, it would have to be done inside the washing machine and I wasn’t going to do that. Okay, so I’m thinking there has to be a way to extend the existing hose. More research and yes! I got a drain hose extender, installed it myself and connected it to the rain barrel I got. It already had a spigot so I attached a garden hose and Viola! As long as I use a natural detergent, which I had already switched to anyway, I can water my trees with the washing machine. It worked perfectly except for one thing: the spigot that came with the barrel was too high up the barrel for the water to completely drain. So I got another spigot made specifically for barrels, drilled the necessary lower hole and installed it myself. Now it works perfectly. I was very pleased with myself. Thank you dad for raising a handy daughter

Just like 2021, thus far 2022 has had a few good things happen here and there, but for the most part it has sucked. And it’s not even half over.

One bored night in February found me wondering if Facebook dating was still as bad as it was when it started. So I put up a profile. It is definitely as bad as it used to be. I gave it a week just to be sure. Yup, still bad. I finally got an Instagram account. I hear people talk about how they met on Instagram. So far the only interesting men who follow or message me have clearly been catfishing. I did find some fun accounts and at least one friend who isn’t on Facebook, so it hasn’t been all for naught.

Then there was a night in March. I had been trying to reach my big brother all day. At first I wasn’t too worried because he often slept during the day. But as the day turned to evening and I still hadn’t been able to reach him my concern grew. I went to his house. You may recall he moved in with our elderly father and stayed there after dad passed in October. His car was there. His keys and phone were there. His TV was on and his bed looked like it did when he’s hanging out in his room, but no brother.

I thought I looked in all the rooms and not finding him I called the police to report him missing. They told me I first had to call the hospitals and jail to make sure he wasn’t admitted anywhere, so I made the calls. No brother. I called the police back and they were going to send an officer to take a report. I called his best friend to update him when l looked in the guest bathroom. I think I screamed “no no no!!” as I saw my big brother slumped over the tub. He was clearly dead. In full rigormortus and blood pooled in the lower extremities. His friend told me to call an ambulance which I did. The 911 operator was asking me questions as EMS was dispatched. She asked if I knew CPR. I do not. She said she can talk me through it. I said I’d be happy to if I thought it would do any good, but he was stiff as a board.

When EMS arrived they concurred that my brother had passed. During all this I had been in touch with the other man I met in person. When he knew my brother was dead he came right over. I didn’t even have to ask. My brother’s best friend also came over and we all waited for the Medical Examiner. And I had terrible phone calls to make. The first was to wake my twin brother in Vermont and tell him he had to come home. Stepbrother #1 was next, he’d tell stepbrother #2. Everyone else could wait until morning.

Stepbrother #1 couldn’t sleep, so he came to my brother’s as well and I sent home the other man I met in person so he could get some sleep. I was so grateful he was there. I’m sure it wasn’t easy being in a house with a dead body in another room. The M.E. arrived and he and the police officers who had been there the whole time had to take my brother out. Although it appeared he had a heart attack, he was headed for an autopsy to determine cause of death. His best friend left, stepbrother left, and I finally left, still in total shock.

The next few days were a blur of informing people of his death, taking peoples’ condolences and setting up the funeral. My twin brother was able to make it here the next night. He’s the only close blood relative I have left. My mom’s brother might still be around, but he’s been estranged since my grandmother died. No other aunts or uncles. Our only 1st cousin passed away more than a year ago. It’s just me and my twin now. He was such a big help and it was so nice to have him here for 10 days.

My brother didn’t express his wishes for what to do when he died. Taking care of the environment was important to him so we thought we’d do what’s best for the environment, was available to us in Tucson, and what we could reasonably afford. We decided on cremation, but were still unsure if that was the right thing. Then we spoke to my brother’s best friend. His wife had told him she didn’t think he’d like anything more than to be cremated and to scatter his ashes on the hiking trails he loved so much. It solidified our choice and we were at peace with it. We held a memorial service 10 days after he passed, and a remembrance of life celebration afterwards. My twin left for his home in Vermont first thing the next morning.

As I write this it’s been 2 months since my big brother died. I think I am finally coming out of shock. I haven’t been able to grieve as I’m sure I should. My brother didn’t have a will, so in addition to all the stuff that didn’t get done after dad passed, I now have to take care of all my brothers affairs as well. And I have to clean out the townhouse they both lived in. To say there is a lot of stuff would be an understatement. Thankfully I’m surrounded by wonderful friends and my stepbrothers who have been helping me. I am not one to ask for or easily accept help, but I couldn’t do it alone, so I’m very grateful.

Since August, I’ve lost my friend in Boston, my dad, and my brother. And now I fear my 14 year old dog Sparky is next. He’s slowed down dramatically in the last 6 months, and especially the last month. At least with him I expect it. It doesn’t make it easier to let him go.

I managed to make it through more than two years of Covid19 before I got it 2 weeks ago. 24 of us contracted it when we went to see a regional band in a well ventilated bar. Luckily I’m vaxxed and boosted so it wasn’t too bad. Mostly like a bad cold with some serious fatigue. It’s possible I’ve had it previously. I have year round allergies and if I had a mild case I may have concluded it was the allergies and not Covid19. Regardless, now I know I’ve had it. And I didn’t have to see a doctor – thank you modern science for the vaccine.

I’m really trying to find more humorous things to write about. My dad and brother left a house full of stuff I have to go through, perhaps there will be some interesting finds. Maybe I’ll regale you with all the legal stuff I have to deal with. No, that’s probably not funny. Surely you’ll laugh when I tell you my heart sometimes still aches for the ghost³. Actually, it aches for the peace I felt when I was with him. I can’t possibly miss the actual person I clearly never really knew. But I miss that peace so much right now. When I was with him, he made everything bad go away, even if only for a few moments. I wish so badly for that peace all on my own.

As crazy as it sounds, in many ways 2020 was better for me than 2021. There are good things I’m grateful for in 2021: I’m extremely grateful that Joe Biden is President – he is at least a decent human being; I have considerably less stress (but for the worst of reasons); as you saw from my previous post, I got my Wilbur, but that’s been a mixed bag as well; I got to go to my first Dead and Company show, but it took so long to get in I missed 1/3 of the show. I’m sure there were good things here and there. For the most part 2021 has sucked.

Like many people, I was laid off from my job in March 2020. I had already cut my hours way back about 6 months prior to take care of my dad full time, so it worked out okay. Dad had Alzheimers and stage 5 kidney failure. My older brother and I had been taking care of him for several years and the amount of help he eventually needed made it impossible for me to work another job and not be completely spent. I was already exhausted.

My boss wanted me to come back to work in February 2021, but we couldn’t afford to pay someone to be with dad during the day when I would be at work. I love my dad, and I’m grateful I was able to take care of him along with my older brother. However, it meant that I didn’t have much of a life for 3-4 years. I used to travel a lot, but I hadn’t been farther than Phoenix in literally years. It was partly due to not having anyone to take care of my dogs, mostly because of taking care of dad. I couldn’t even get a break working my old job.

In September we made the very difficult decision to put him in a memory care facility. It had gotten to the point where my brother and I couldn’t take good care of him anymore. He needed more help than we could give him. We really hated to do it, but it was the best thing for everyone. Suddenly, after years of being tied to dad-care, I had my freedom back! And then I immediately felt guilty for even thinking it.

My dad had a very sweet little dog named Chito. When he adopted him as a 1 year old from the Humane Society 4 years ago, I promised my dad I would take care of Chito if he died before the dog. I knew full well at the time that I was likely going to be taking Chito. My brother had no interest in taking him, so when we put dad in memory care I got his dog.

I love animals, especially dogs. Little or big or anything in between. Chito was used to an old man that he was with constantly who totally doted on him. He was not used to being left alone with my big dog (who he knew well) and a bully kitten for hours when I went to work. He was not used to rules, and discipline, and not eating people food. For many reasons it became almost immediately apparent that Chito was not a good fit for me, nor I for him.

I took Chito with me to visit dad at memory care. All the women in the office just loved him. There was one lady to whom I mentioned I wasn’t sure that I could keep the dog, and she instantly said “I’ll take him!” She was just getting ready to retire, so she was perfect for Chito. Long story short, she adopted him and changed his name to Grayson. I guess because he’s gray in color. Still, it’s a weird name for a dog. Anyhoo, from the pictures and descriptions she sends me he seems very happy. He’s in a much better place for him, and I have more freedom! And then I immediately felt guilty for thinking that.

Not taking care of dad full time meant I could get a job. A dear friend mentioned to me that she knew of a job at a theater costume shop. I have a degree in fashion design, but I never really wanted to design regular clothes. I love costumes, and I hoped to someday be able to work in that field. I liked the seamstress job I was doing when I was laid off. I worked inside a drycleaners, and I really liked the store I was at (there are multiple locations), the customers there (besides that being where I met the ghost³), and most importantly I really liked the people I worked with. When dad went to memory care and I was able to work, they didn’t need help at that store. I had been with the company for more than 13 years and I knew that was the only store I really wanted to work in. When I was told about the costume shop job, I jumped at it! I was basically hired on the spot and I started there in early October, just in time to get thrown in for Halloween. In addition to costuming all the shows, we also rent and sell costumes year round. I’m not designing costumes for the theater, and I don’t get to sew as much as I want to, but I really like it there. If I still had to take care of dad I never would have gotten that job. And then I immediately felt guilty for thinking that.

The week after I started my new job dad passed away. He had just turned 90 a few weeks before. His Alzheimers and kidney failure were in very advanced stages when he got Covid19 three weeks after moving to memory care. It was too much for him to handle. I had only been able to visit him twice in the last week of his life, and I was grateful I had those visits. Many people couldn’t visit their loved ones who had Covid19. Masked and gowned and otherwise covered from head to toe, my 2nd visit was the morning of the day he died. He passed over alone a few hours after I left. It makes me sad to know he was alone, but he had been gone for a long time. That morning he was basically just a breathing shell of a man. Suddenly the “burden” of visiting him every day and being the ultimate decider regarding his medical care was lifted! And I immediately felt guilty for thinking that.

I have since reconciled all those guily feelings as valid and nearly universal for caregivers in our situation. Yes, it was a blessing to be able to take care of him, but it was also very stressful and exhausting. Of course I would feel relief that the stressful and exhausting part is over, and grateful his suffering has ended. I had seen him suffer so many times, things no one else saw. For example, there were a few times when we were at a doctor appointment and he would start to cry. In those somewhat lucid moments he had an idea what was happening to him and he was so scared. It broke my heart. So you can see why I say having much less stress this year is good, but it came for the worst of reasons.

You may recall that across the street from my dad’s lives an older woman, and her son went to stay with her for a few weeks. Then it was a few months. At least a year later and he’s still there. I don’t know what happened to his girlfriend. He came to dad’s funeral. I was greeting people who were there and he made it very clear he was there because he knew my dad from when he lived there about 10 years ago. So he’s still not interested in me. I’m still seeing the man I met in person. 2 1/2 years, but we are not boyfriend and girlfriend, and for a number of reasons we likely never will be. At least we enjoy each other’s company and I’m not totally alone.

Then there is Stephen. My best friend (who is not Stephen) moved to Boston 20-some years ago. Stephen was one of his very best friends and became my friend. I won’t pretend Stephen and I were best buds or anything. We communicated occasionally, especially when Project Runway was on. I loved spending time with him and his husband when I was in Boston or they were visiting here. One day in August my best friend called and told me Stephen died that morning. It was a shock. He was younger than me, and I hadn’t known he was sick. He was such an amazing person. Everyone that knew Stephen loved him, and that’s likely only a slight exaggeration. He and his family were close, he had many close friends who love him dearly. It’s very sad. I still can’t quite believe he’s gone. It’ll probably sink in the next time I visit Boston.

Speaking of sinking in… you may recall that the day after the Winter Solstice of 2020 was when I heard from the ghost³. I don’t know what it is with him and the Winter Solstice, but the day after the Winter Solstice 2021 I learned from a friend that the ghost³ has made his temporary move out of state permanent, everything is going great for him, and he’s blissfully happy. All I can say about that is thank god and good riddance. I know he has family here, but hopefully he’ll do the women of Tucson a favor and stay gone. Hey, something good did happen in 2021!!

Directly behind my back fence is an old apartment complex with an empty swimming pool. One evening I was out back when I heard what I thought was a bird. It kept “chirping” from the same spot for a while and I thought to myself “that’s not a bird.” I looked over the fence and there was a tiny kitten stuck in the pool! The steps were too high for him to get out. In my head I’m literally thinking “oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…” and trying to figure out the best way to get it. I hopped 2 fences and got the little angel. The second I picked him up he relaxed like he knew he was going to be okay.

Then I had to get back to my house, but I was now on the smooth side of a 6 ft wooden fence. I’m 5′ 5″. Me trying to get over the smooth side of a wooden fence with a kitten without help wasn’t happening. The empty pool area is being used as storage for the complex. There was a chair amongst the old washing machines and evaporative cooler parts, so I used the chair to hop back into my neighbors yard. She was home and was able to help me over the fence and into my yard.

One of my neighbors across the street periodically worked at various animal shelters so she knows how to take care of kittens. As I’m jogging through the house to the front door I’m literally thinking “I hope she’s home, I hope she’s home, I hope she’s home…” Thankfully, she was. When I told her what happened she told me she had just had to put her oldest cat down THAT DAY and had been praying for help to get her through it, and there I am with a tiny kitten who needed her. Her cat had lip cancer and could only drink goats milk at the end, so she already had milk and bottles. Clearly not a coincidence. A little later she told me she named him “Robbie” after me. That was so sweet, it made me cry.

A few weeks later she let me know that for several reasons she couldn’t keep him and had someone who might take Robbie. I couldn’t stand the thought of a stranger taking him when he was clearly meant for me. His foster mama weaned him off the milk and got him used to a litter box and such and brought him to me about a month after I found him.

I’ve always been a dog person. I have never had a cat of my own. One reason is I used to be highly allergic to cats. Just walking into a house with a cat would start my nose a runnin’ and my eyes a waterin.’ Now I just have to be careful to always wash my hands after I pet a cat and I’m usually okay. It’s also what I have to do after petting a dog or a horse as I’m allergic to those too. I took care of my BFF’s cats for a year or so and I’ve taken care of friends’ cats when they are out of town, so it’s not like I didn’t know what to do. Another reason I’ve never had a cat is I don’t like litter boxes, especially the smell. The Goddess of Dogs did a switcheroo and gave me a cat anyway. Oh boy.

Besides all the cat stuff I had to buy, and kitten-proofing of the house, I had to come up with a new name for him. I wanted to name him “Junior” as his foster mama named him after me, but my older brother had a cat named Junior that went missing and that seemed like bad Karma. I looked through countless web pages with suggestions for cat names. He’s all black so I looked for words in other languages that mean black or night or something similar. I couldn’t come up with anything I really liked. Having known him for a while now I would have named him Spazz, or Goofy or something; he’s quite the character. Anyhoo, a friend suggested “Wilbur.”

Wilbur the Wildcat is the name of the mascot at the University of Arizona in Tucson. As you may recall, I have a dog named “Sparky.” Sparky the Sun Devil just happens to be the name of the mascot of our hated rival Arizona State University. I’ve always known the mascot names, but it never registered with me that my dog has the ASU mascot name. I already had a Sparky, I had to have a Wilbur. So that’s his name.

Wilbur was about a month old when I found him, so about 2 months when I got him for good. Still tiny and adorable, but he was a feisty little guy. I knew he was a fighter ’cause he wasn’t going to stop calling for help until he couldn’t fight anymore. It breaks my heart to think what would have happened to him if I hadn’t found him. It’s what keeps me going when he misbehaves, which he does a lot. For a while I thought he was going to think his name was “no kitty!” It’s getting better, but he’s been a challenge. I have a small but likely permanent scar on my lip from a bite, and I have numerous scratches on my hands and arms. He hasn’t yet learned I can’t play like a cat, I don’t have claws, and I’m not a chew toy.

The woman who first took care of Wilbur also had dogs, and her biggest dog became fast friends with the kitten.

Wilbur wants to be friends with Sparky. Sparky is 13 and wanted nothing to do with a kitten. That’s also gotten better over time. I wouldn’t call them friends exactly, but they are cordial, mostly. One day they were actually laying on the dog bed together! I was so happy until I later realized – based on future interactions – Sparky was tolerating Wilbur, not buddies with him. Hey, a girl can dream.

I’ve had Wilbur for 8 months now. He’s still adorable. He walks and runs around the house making all kinds of cute sounds. His meows have many moods, and so does he.

I knew from the 1st day he’s going to be an indoor cat. One of my biggest fears is he gets out the front door and gets hit by a car. He could get bullied by the feral cats in my neighborhood, one of which looks EXACTLY like Wilbur. He could be preyed upon by the hawks in the area, or loose dogs. Or he just disappears and I’m left to wonder for the rest of my life what happened to him. Besides all of that, outdoor cats kill a lot of birds, and I think are the reason I have very few lizards around my house. Other areas of my neighborhood have some pretty large lizards, but not mine. There are a number of stray cats that hang out in my yards, especially the front yard. I like the lizards ’cause they help take care of bugs. Anyhow, much to his dismay Wilbur is an indoor cat.

Although he still wants to bite and scratch, as I mentioned before, it’s getting better. As most pets seem to want to do, both Sparky and Wilbur enjoy the bathroom visit. I live alone, so most of the time the lavatory door is open when I’m doing my business. Sparky visits for scratches and kisses on his head. Wilbur has taken to jumping on the toilet tank and sitting behind me for a few moments. Most of the time he’ll let me do tiny kisses on his nose and he doesn’t try to bite or scratch. Then he makes his way to the sink which he likes as long as the water isn’t running. He still can’t sleep with me as his sleep schedule is much different from mine and he wants to play when I want to sleep.

During times of frustration I will sometimes raise a fist in the air and ask no one in particular “why did you give me a cat!?” But I know why. After my Sparky is gone I don’t want any more dogs, at least while I live alone. I didn’t want any more pets, but that didn’t work. It’s too hard when they go. And dogs require someone to let them out and otherwise take care of them. Cats are much easier to take care of. Perhaps this is the universe telling me I’m going to be alone for a long time and will need a companion. I sure hope that’s not the case.

I really, really want my blog to be funny, or at least entertaining. Unfortunately, this year has been challenging and I’m struggling to find the humor in life. My 90 year old father has Alzheimers and stage 5 kidney failure. I’ve been taking care of him with my older brother for 3 years. We finally had to put him in a senior care facility a few weeks ago which was a very difficult choice. Among other things, it separates him from his little dog Chito. They loved each other very much. I had promised my dad when he was gone I would take care of Chito. Now that dad is in a care home I had to take his dog.

I love dogs. I’ve had dogs most of my life. I love animals to an almost annoying point. I am very animal sensitive and I can’t watch animal shows or movies where anything bad happens to them. I stopped watching local news in part because I’m tired of and sad hearing about animal abuse (it was primarily because of the bad things people do to other people, especially children and the elderly: a story about a 2 year old boy that was purposely starved to death was what did it for me). I already have a 12 year old dog and I don’t really want any more dogs, at least while I’m alone. My kitten was being a bully to Chito about the water bowls. For those and several other reasons I felt it was best to re-home Chito. Another painful decision that was the best thing for him and me. The Goddess of Dogs (if there isn’t one there should be) brought a wonderful woman into my life at just the right time. She was working her last 2 weeks at my dad’s care home. I had brought my dad’s dog to visit him one day and she said immediately “I want him! He’s so sweet!” And he is. She just retired so she’ll be home a lot. She really wants Chito and will give him a great home. That’s a win-win.

As you know I’m no longer doing online dating. I have to admit I miss the attention. Not enough to try it again anytime soon. I’m also not meeting anyone. I hope that will change now that I have more freedom because I’m not at dad’s 6-10 hours a day, 6 days/week. But I am no longer actively trying to meet someone. That doesn’t mean I won’t put myself in situations where I might meet a man. I’ll smile and flirt and flatter, but I will not initiate anything. If a man wants to see me again, he can ask for my number or at least how to find me online. I have been wrong every single time when I initiate with men. Every. Single. Time.

I am what I would consider spiritual, but definitely not religious. I pray every day to a higher power that I call the Great Spirit. It is a combination of all that I believe makes up the circle of life, including the energy from the next plane of existence, and the Great Mother (Earth). On the winter solstice 2020, I decided to open the age of Aquarius with a clean slate. I wrote down all kinds of things like what I am grateful for, what I need help with, what I need to let go. At the moment of the Solstice I prayed and burned all of my notes. The Ghost² was definitely in the “let go” category. I was done, tired of hanging on, tired of hoping I’d ever see him again. I had given up and was ready to let go and move forward. The next day, the very next fucking day he texted me.

I had been praying for a long time that if he’s not supposed to be in my life I never want to hear from him in any way. And I hadn’t heard from him in 5-6 months. Until the day after the solstice. It was a brief Merry Christmas text. It eventually led to a phone call. The last thing I heard from him was Christmas Eve 2020 and it was a text that ended with “we will talk soon.” I haven’t heard from him since. Even after being ghosted by him twice I really did think I’d hear from him again. Now perhaps you understand how stupid I can be about men. If he hadn’t contacted me in December I would have been done with this by now. I was well on my way then. He fucked me up for another 9 months. 9 months!

As much as I’ve tried to just forget him and move on, I’m still trying to reconcile everything. Now I know he is an asshole, a liar, and a coward. He knows how much I wanted to see him and he still treated me like garbage. I do not understand how THIS man could give me the total peace that he did. How was THIS man the one who didn’t upset my stomach and didn’t make my back hurt. The brief time I spent with him gave me such peace that it made everything bad go away even if just for a few moments. I’d rather not have had that peace at all than to have it dangled in front of me in the form of an irresistible man and then yanking him away. I wish I’d never seen him, never met him. I don’t know why it’s been so hard to just forget such an jerk. I have no idea – and probably never will – what I’m supposed to learn from this. I don’t know how to reconcile the peace I felt with the reality with which I am faced.

I’d love to have a fairy tale romance, but what I really want is pretty simple: I want a good man, and we’re good together, good for each other, and we’re crazy about each other; we make each other laugh, have good sex, and truly care about each other. Almost everything else can be worked out. I want someone who will hold my hand and kiss me on the lips in public. I envision an attraction that would often cause us to be late for dinner because we can’t keep our hands off each other and have to have a quickie; a man I could spend Sunday afternoon in bed with; we could walk on the beach and go back to our hotel and make love to the sound of the ocean; we’d be content drinking a glass of red wine and watching a sunset from our patio; a man I actually want to spend every day with and miss him when he’s gone.

In spite of everything, I still have a little hope there’s a man like that out there for me and that he’ll find me. It’s not a lot of hope mind you, but a spark… I also hope it’ll be made clear who he is if it happens. I hope things will get better. I hope this crappy year ends soon.

Next post: did something good happen in 2021?

A while back I told you about a hot man who lives in my neighborhood. I see him occasionally when we’re walking our dogs. A little while ago my dog Sparky and I were walking by his house and I thought I saw him and his dog Zeus finishing their walk. We just kept going as I assumed he was going inside. All of a sudden they were behind us, and once Sparky and I noticed them we stopped to wait. We re-re-re-introduced ourselves (I remembered his dog’s name but not his even though we’ve introduced ourselves several times before. I’m pretty bad at remembering humans’ names. I’m working on it).

We chatted while we walked. He’s a successful small business owner. He mentioned his girlfriend was in Mexico for the month (*&%$#@!$%&*). We talked about work, life, nothing major, but we learned a little about each other. Cool. At least maybe I have a friend in my ‘hood who could walk dogs with me once in a while.

We got to my house. My dog is 12 and can’t walk too far. Like an idiot I didn’t drop Sparky off and keep walking with neighborhood dude. At the least I could have used the exercise. Oh well. We both said what a pleasure it was to be able to walk and talk together. I gave him a big smile and he gave me one too. Hey, he may not always have a girlfriend.

The next evening he and Zeus were just walking out of their front door when we were walking by. He swears it was coincidence. I asked if he wanted to join us and they did. In the 4 years since I first saw him I’ve wondered how old he is. I knew he’s younger than me, but I had no idea how much. That question was answered that day when we learned we were both born at the same hospital 10 years apart. As of this writing I’m 53. That makes him 43. Ah well. Even if he didn’t have a girlfriend, 53 is old to a 43 year old. I don’t look my age, but that doesn’t really matter.
When we got to my house I again failed to keep walking with him. It’s no wonder I’m single.

We don’t run into each other very often, so as we said our good evenings I said “see you in another 6 months.” He said something like you never know, things happen for a reason. Okay, yeah I do know. He has a girlfriend. He’s too young for me. And he’s shorter than I’d like. Everything else being different, the height wouldn’t matter so much. But he’s not available. That point was made crystal clear when his girlfriend came back from Mexico a few days later and moved in with him. At least I assume she did because her vehicle is there every day now. Not like it matters.

I also told you about a man across the street from my dad’s house who was staying there to help his mother. When we met he too talked about his girlfriend. Are all the good men taken? Anyhoo, he said he’d be there a week or two. It’s been 3-4 months. I’m not sure what’s up with that. He hasn’t wandered over and even talked to me since the only time I met him, so I’m guessing that even if he’s single he’s not interested. Oh well.

About 6 weeks ago I was out with friends at a place on 4th Avenue downtown. If you’ve never been to Tucson, you don’t know how dark most of our streets are. It’s on purpose. There is a world renowned observatory southwest of the city and light pollution would be a real problem. The greater Tucson area has about a million people, but the light output of a city of around 100,000. Therefore, it’s dark.

I left the bar we were at to go to my car. As I was walking, I stepped on an unseen rock. My shoe went one way and my foot another. I knew almost instantly that it was not good. Besides the pain and almost instant swelling and bruising, I had done the exact same thing in the exact same way to the exact same foot 21 years before. I still had the walking boot I was given after the first time I fractured my foot. It’s called a Jones Fracture. It’s very common. And I’ve done it twice.

Here’s the “funny” thing about it: when I did it the first time I was separated from my 2nd husband. I asked him to drive me to Urgent Care, but he told me “if it was broken you wouldn’t be able to walk.” It was broken and I was walking. And driving a stick shift. This time the man I’ve been seeing who I met in person was helping me to my vehicle and said “if it was broken I don’t think you’d be able to walk.” It was broken and I could walk. At least I’m driving an automatic now.

I’ve been told many times by well-meaning people to stop looking and I’ll find someone when I least expect it. Perhaps that is true. I’ve owned my home for 4 years. I’ve had numerous contractors in my house. HVAC techs, plumbers, etc. A lot of HVAC techs – my system is 22 years old. Not one of them was even remotely attractive. I mean seriously, not one where I even bothered to look for a wedding ring.

I needed a plumber for a problem with my bathroom plumbing, and a leak under the kitchen sink that I had yet to find from where the leak was coming. The last plumber couldn’t find it either. Anticipating that this service tech would be like all the rest, of course I had on what I threw on when I got up – lounge pants and an old t-shirt. What did it matter? Well that day it mattered.

The plumber arrived sans mask, but only for a few moments before he put his on. It was long enough to see that he is totally cute. A little shorter than I prefer, but he’s a plumber! I like handy men. I was suddenly painfully aware that I looked like I just rolled out of bed, and not in a sexy way, in a “damn lady, we called you 30 minutes ago to tell you we were on the way and you couldn’t even put on decent clothes and brush your hair?” kind of way. At one point he went out to the truck for a part. I contemplated changing my clothes, but I figured that was a little too obvious.

He found one leak and fixed it, and I found the other one that the plumbers couldn’t find. Ha! (It was actually the seal around the sink that needs to be redone). Anyhow, needless to say (but apparently I’m sayin’ it anyway) he did not ask if he could call me, and I haven’t gotten a “I just wanted to make sure the problems were fixed, and hey what are you doing Saturday night?” call. Oh well. So much for the plumber.

I spend almost every day at my dad’s. He’s 89 and has Alzheimers. He and my older brother live in a townhouse complex (my brother moved in to take care of dad for which he deserves a medal). We know all of our immediate neighbors. A few weeks ago I noticed that there was another vehicle in the carport of the elderly lady who lives across the street. Then I noticed the man that belongs to the vehicle. He looked to be around my age. Her son maybe? Although I saw him in passing a few times, there wasn’t an opportunity to say hello. Then one morning he was out walking his dog. He has a husky. I love huskies. The most amazing dog I’ve ever had was a husky mix. He stopped to say hello and introduce himself. He’s cute and tall and thin. Okay, cool. No wedding ring. Okay, even more cool.

He explained that his mother needed some work done around the house and it was easier to just stay with her for a few weeks. I thought maybe he lived somewhere else, but no he lives in the Tucson area. Okay, cool. Already 3 cools! It was when I asked about his dog that he pulled out the dreaded “we.” Next he was talking about him and his girlfriend. *%@$&!%*÷@%*. So much for that.

I have to be honest, I’m giving up looking. If there’s a man out there for me he can find me. I’m tired of wasting the time and energy. It’s been disappointing, frustrating, exhausting and a little sad. When I’m not at my dad’s I’ve been spending a lot of time alone. That’s not always a good thing. I am my own worst critic, and I often beat myself up for the 20 lifetimes of mistakes I’ve made. There has been some of that, but this time the introspection has been mostly useful.

The only common denominator in all my failures with men is me. I consider myself to be cute, occasionally pretty. There have been enough men attracted to me over the years that I know I’m not ugly. My friends tell me I’m a catch. I think they’re biased, but I’ll accept that I have a lot to offer the right man. So if it’s not my looks, and not a lack of desirable qualities, maybe my personality? That may be part of it as I can be difficult and moody. I readily admit that I’m emotionally stunted at 15. At 53 I’m still battling the scared teenager when I deal with men. I’m sure that can be difficult to handle at times. But I’m not a screaming bitch, I’m not clingy or demanding. If I’m in a relationship, my only “rule” is don’t do anything to disrespect yourself or me and you can do pretty much whatever you want. I seem to make people laugh, I’m open minded and willing to try new things. I’ve recently been told I have a beautiful voice which surprised the hell out of me. I’ve never liked my voice. All-in-all I think the good outweighs the bad. So what the hell?

With all the thinking time I have come to two revelations. The first is if there’s such a thing as a man I’m meant to be with, maybe I’m not ready for him yet. I’m not fully cooked and I need a little more time on the grill. I would have said “in the oven” but I’m mildly claustrophobic. If I were going to be on the stove top to avoid claustrophobia I may as well be outside on the grill. That took a weird turn. Anyhow, maybe I’m not quite ready for a “real” relationship. Maybe that’s one of the attractions to the man I met in person. I know he’s not going to want a full commitment so I don’t have to worry about that with him.

The second revelation is a little more difficult to accept. I don’t think I’ve ever fully committed to any man I’ve ever been with. Not 100%. Not even with either of my husbands. I have always held back some of myself in an attempt to not be absolutely crushed when (not if) it doesn’t work out.

With the introspection and revelations, I think I am now more amenable to working on a committed relationship. I am more willing to make compromises. Minor things like listening to modern “country music” if that’s what he likes (as long as he’s willing to try to listen to some of the music I like which is a huge variety). And major things like where we live. I feel if I ever do find the right man, I’m ready to commit myself to the relationship 100%. I don’t want to be crushed, but if it’s the right man hopefully I won’t be.

Although I am pretty much done with online dating, I periodically peruse the dating websites. Sometimes I send a few messages, I get a few messages back, but nothing has come from it. The interactions, or lack thereof, made me realize why I got off the sites to begin with. I’m done with Plenty of Fish. They had a feature that would let the user hide their profile until ready to browse and look for matches. I would periodically unhide mine to see if there’s anyone new. They took away that feature so I ended my account. I’m solely on Tinder now. They have the best free features of the remaining sites and considering my lack of success I doubt a different site would yield better results. I’ve already tried 5. There’s not that many men in Tucson.

I’ll never understand why/how many men have fantasies about seeing their woman with another man. For me, the thought of my man with someone else is awful. I don’t understand people who like to be tied up either because oh hell no. But lots of people like it. Frankly I’m sure I like a few things other people wouldn’t understand. I suppose it’s not necessary for me to understand why they or I like what we like, it just is.

Anyhow, I started chatting with a man from Plenty of Fish (before I deleted my account of course) who is gorgeous, at least in his pictures he is. Very quickly he gave me his email address. I’ve learned that usually means they either want to exchange p and p pics, or at least show me his junk. So I messaged him that I wasn’t interested in exchanging p and p pics, I’m looking for something more meaningful. He wrote back that he is too, but why not have fun along the way. He asked me to tell him a fantasy of mine. I told him I’m not sharing anything that intimate with a stranger. He then proceeded to tell me one of his fantasies. When he’s out of town he wants me to flirt and mess around with one of his friends and then tell him about it when we’re having sex when he gets back. No. Nuh uh. No way. Not gonna happen. I told him I wouldn’t be able to accommodate his fantasy and we stopped communicating. He’s not the only man I’ve met that has expressed something similar, although most who like that sort of thing want to watch their woman with another man. Yeah, I don’t get it either.

I started a convo with someone who I was pretty sure was a scammer because his pics were too perfect. We exchanged some messages and he seemed ok. Then he asks how long I’ve been on the site and what has been my experience. I told him I’ve been doing it “for a while. Lots of scammers, weird dudes, married men.” He deleted our conversation and connection. I knew it. Scammer. I’ve decided that when I feel like it I’m going to mess with the scammers, pretend that I’m falling for the bullshit. I don’t know if I’ll have the patience or energy to go all the way to the inevitable “but I wired you the money” stage. It might be fun once in a while.

The next scammer I encountered did the same things the others do: over compliment me, didn’t share any of his personal information, told me he wants a serious relationship with someone he can love forever and he hopes it’s with me, what am I looking for on the site, how long have I been online dating, etc. They are basically checking to see how vulnerable and gullible I am. It’s really sad that some women fall for it, but if you’re lonely I can see the appeal of all the flattery. In my experience the real men have completely different, much more “normal” conversations. I wasn’t in the mood to play the game, so when he asked me if I’m also looking for a serious relationship I told him “Oh yes! And I’m also looking for a man with a big cock and a big bank account so he can fuck me up the ass and then take me shopping. Do you have a big cock?” I made myself laugh and laugh. He deleted our match and conversation. Mission accomplished.

I got a message from a match on Tinder. The message was “Morning.” That’s it. I replied “Indeed it is 😁.” What am I supposed to say to the least amount of effort? I guess he could have said “hi,” that would be the least amount of effort. I didn’t hear back. That’s okay, he clearly has no sense of humor. Then fully 2 weeks later he messages me “Let’s have some fun.” Keep in mind Tinder isn’t really a hookup site anymore. It’s mostly like the other dating sites. Maybe he wanted to go to a movie, or hiking or something other than just sex so I asked him “What did you have in mind?” He messaged back “What do you have in mind?” I didn’t respond because I had absolutely nothing in mind. It clearly says in my profile “No hookups, FWB, piece on the side, and I’m not joining you and your polyamorous whatever (just not my thing).” Maybe he has a reading comprehension problem.

So here I am, a year and a half after I started online dating and I’m basically where I started from. I’m still seeing one of the men I met in person, and I’m still getting absolutely nowhere with online dating. It seems like it was such a pointless waste of time and money, but I feel I had to try. It’s worked for a lot of people. Finding someone any other way is infinitely more difficult during a pandemic. Sometimes I’ll see a man who might be attractive, but because we’re all wearing masks it’s impossible to tell for sure. Sometimes we’ll have a mutual stare and then continue on our separate ways. And because we’re all wearing masks, I guess the upper third of my face isn’t appealing enough for a second glance from most of the men whose eye I’ve tried to catch. So I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I likely won’t find anyone soon that I’d like to regularly date. I’d rather be single than settle or be with the wrong man.

You’re probably wondering about the man I met in person that I keep mentioning that I’ve been seeing for a year and a half. He doesn’t want me to write about him in my blog. I promised him I wouldn’t and I never will without his permission. Above all else he and I are friends. I don’t think it’s sharing too much to say he is a great guy. We are very close and have a lot of fun together. I knew from the start that for several reasons he doesn’t want a committed relationship with me or anyone else. We’re both okay with how things are, so I accept and enjoy what we have while we have it.

I titled my blog as I did because I hoped I’d eventually need to transition from dating to other topics. I even had/have hope a boyfriend would allow me to write about our relationship, even if just a little. It doesn’t appear that’s going to happen anytime soon so I’m going to find other things to blog about and I hope you enjoy it. I’ll of course keep you updated if anything happens on the man front.

You may recall a previous post called “The Musician.” If you don’t, now is as good a time as any to read it. Go ahead, I’ll wait…. In that post I told you how I was learning to listen to my body to know when something is right or wrong. I mentioned the two men I’d met in person, one of whom didn’t make my back hurt or my tummy upset. More recently I told you that in January one of the two men I met in person had ghosted me. It was the same man who didn’t upset my stomach or make my back hurt. An alternate title for this post might be “How Stupid Am I?” Why? Read on …

March 2019 I was working a shift I rarely, if ever worked when he walked in. The very moment our eyes met it was literally an instantaneous attraction. The woman I was working with remarked on it after he left. I’d been at my job 14 years and worked at that store at least 200 times and I had never seen him before. I assumed I’d never see him again. I assumed wrong. About a month later I saw him at work again. After he left that time another co-worker said “I want to be invited to the wedding.” It was clearly a remark about the attraction between us. I don’t think she’s prescient. If she is she never told me! Anyhow, after his 2nd visit we became friends and the attraction only grew.

I try to be as honest and forthright as I can writing this blog. I’m tempted to be as open as I would be with friends, but in such a public forum I have to be more appropriate. So I’ll just say he excited me more than almost any man I’ve ever met and leave you to draw your own conclusions. He’s a great kisser. It may be a long time before I forget that 1st kiss. And his voice, I could listen to him talk all day. He rides a motorcycle sometimes. I’m not a fan of motorcycles, but I could see myself riding with him. I felt safe with him. Whenever we’d see each other the attraction between us was obvious.

Sounds great so far. Not so fast. For various reasons I didn’t get to see him very often, which sucked. But the biggest problem is he was terrible, I mean horrible about communicating. I don’t know how many times I asked him to please reply to a text, call once in a while, just stay in touch. I don’t ask for much. I’m pretty easy to please. I never wanted hours long conversations, texting me sweet nothings all day, anything like that. I didn’t text him frequently, in some cases not for a month or two. What I expect is to do what you say you’re going to do and if you don’t, make amends and do better; treat me with respect and appreciation; act like I’m a human with feelings.

He routinely took advantage of my forgiving nature, and I put up with it for only one reason. It wasn’t the instant strong attraction and connection, that we both break into a British accent for no apparent reason, or how excited he makes me. It wasn’t that I felt safe with him. The ONLY reason I tolerated it was because when I was with him I was at total peace. Not just total peace about him, but total peace. One time after I saw him I felt like every weight that had been on my shoulders for decades was lifted. I thought I might float through the sunroof of my car I felt so light. It was shockingly remarkable. So I put up with the horrible communication because I really thought it would all work out in the end, whatever “it” turned out to be. I was so looking forward to finding out if there was anything more than a strong attraction between us. Perhaps we would have been awful together, perhaps great. I just wanted a chance to find out why I had such peace about that man.

I guess I should have played hard to get, acted like I didn’t care if I saw him or not, but I don’t like playing games. You either like me as I am or you don’t. Apparently he didn’t because the last I heard from him was around the middle of January. Then nothing. For months. His schedule was supposed to open up in February or March. How convenient it was for him to totally blow me off right when I was supposed to be able to see him more. After almost a year he couldn’t just talk to me, tell me what was going on.

In April I sent him a message. Nothing bad, just a few things I wanted to say. It was short and sweet. Really. It had been so long since I heard from him I didn’t think he’d read it. That wasn’t really the point – it was more for me than for him, a sort of closure so I could just forget about him and move on. I certainly didn’t think he’d contact me. He did so the next day. We chatted. His schedule hadn’t opened up as he had hoped, then Covid19 hit and everything got pretty weird for everyone. So I gave him another chance. Why? The peace. It was that remarkable. And I’m weak when it comes to him.

I was hoping he’d heeded my need for him to communicate better. And he did. He texted me one day telling me he missed talking to me. Called a few days later and said how much he wanted to see me. It was okay until July. One day he texted me that he actually had an afternoon off from the job he typically works 6 days/week, 10-12 hours/day. He playfully hinted I might get to see him. I haven’t heard from him since. He didn’t bother to reply that day or the next. A few weeks later I sent him one more message asking if this is really how little I’m worth to him. Clearly it is. I can only assume for his own sick reasons he did it on purpose. Made me believe he cared about me, cared whether or not he could see me. This wasn’t some random dude I’d met online and didn’t hear from again. He made me think I’d get to see him then disappeared.

Now I’m left knowing that despite all his talk I was just someone to string along so if he didn’t have anyone better I’d be there. I feel like a total idiot believing anything he said. From March to January, whenever I was ready to give up he’d restore my faith in him. He apparently was doing just enough to keep me hooked. I feel like such a fool. And how stupid is he? All he had to do was stay in touch, treat me like a human being with feelings and he could have seen me pretty much whenever he wanted to.

So what in the hell am I supposed to do now? I absolutely cannot trust my brain to tell me when a man is right. My fears rule my brain when it comes to men. He’s the only man in 20 years that didn’t upset my stomach. If another man gave me such peace I don’t remember it. How do I reconcile that with how little he obviously cared about me? What if I never find that peace again, with or without a man? How do I trust myself to know if a man is right for me if I can’t trust my brain or my body? Why do I even trust men anymore? I’m either a hopeless romantic or complete idiot. Actually I’m probably both.

I thought I’d update you on the latest happenings or not happenings in my dating world. It’s been a little while since my last post. Re-reading the last one might be prudent!

After a few video chats Mr. Italy and I decided to meet. Please don’t get all bent out of shape. It was months ago so I know it turned out okay. It wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but the bottom line was I didn’t want to waste time chatting with someone who I don’t enjoy kissing. Kissing is important to me, and if we don’t kiss well together then there’s no point.

So we met at a courtyard of shops and restaurants near his apartment. He resembled his pictures more on video chat than he did in person. He’s quite a bit older than in his pics. Surprise surpise, someone I met online doesn’t look like his pictures. No biggie, he’s still attractive. We sat down and I felt like I was almost immediately under inspection. Of course I look at a man, what he’s wearing, his hair, eyes, body, etc. Mr. Italy however was checking me out from head to toe, literally. Hair, clothes, boobs, weight and waistline, butt, legs, even my toenails. Looked me up and down and made approving sounds like I passed inspection.

I already knew that physical appearance is important to him (of course it’s important to lots of people, me included, to a degree anyhow) and he is weight conscious. He once asked where I gain weight 1st. I told him all over, but really – like many women my age (53) – I carry it in my midsection. Additionally, my weight fluctuates 5 lbs either way. That may not sound like much, but I’m short (5’5″) and somewhat petite so weight fluctuations are typically noticeable. If I dated him I think I would be very self conscious about my weight. He says he doesn’t have a lot of body hair and doesn’t particularly like hairy women. I was blessed with beautiful and thick hair. Along with my nice thick head of hair comes rather thick body hair. It’s something I’ve never liked and I’m self-conscious about enough as it is. I think it would constantly be on my mind when I’m with him.

Mr. Italy talks a lot about brand named clothes and shoes, but insists labels are not important to him. He made sure I knew his shoes were Gucci then said “but I don’t care about that.” I don’t have a problem with people liking high end designer items. Many times it’s a higher quality. Some people like the status. Nothing wrong with that either. I don’t mind Mr. Italy liking labels. I mind him bringing it up often and saying it’s not important to him. He talked about it in our video and phone chats as well as in our in person meeting. Just admit it dude.

After my inspection and some conversation, Mr. Italy wanted to kiss. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t too enthusiastic about it and I didn’t really know why. So we kissed. That’s why. He is not a good kisser, he’s all teeth – I felt like I was kissing his teeth. He did not feel the same. He loved kissing me wanted to do it again. I thought maybe just 1 kiss wasn’t enough so we kissed again. Same thing. We chatted a little while longer and then I said I had to go. He walked me to my car. We exchanged a few texts after that day, but I had no interest in seeing him again.


I’m no longer chatting with Venice dude. He didn’t really want to get to know me. He somehow wanted to have sex with me. 6000 miles away. How’s that supposed to work? I’m not really sure what I expected from meeting a man online who lives in another country. I guess I thought we’d just message each other once in a while, maybe video chat or talk on the phone. I’m assuming he wanted sex via video chat. Seriously? Why on Earth would I bother with that? Maybe if I had a significant other who was out of town for a while, but video sex with a stranger in another country? No thanks.

For about a week I had great chats with a local man. His profile says he’s semi-retired, but he’s in his 50’s. So I asked him if in his spare time does he do things like: rescue puppies from burning buildings? Teach physics to genius kindergarteners? And something else superhero related that I can’t remember. I should have copied and kept our chats because he played along beautifully with the superhero theme without skipping a beat. We chatted for a few days, moving on from our superhero scenario and he was equally witty.

The day we were going to do a video chat I asked him if he is a current trump supporter. I’ll excuse anyone who voted for trump in good faith, even supported him to a point then realized what a disaster he is, but anyone who still supports him doesn’t share my values. You guessed it, he’s a trump supporter and thinks he’s doing a great job. Heavy sigh. I told him that’s too bad and wished him well. He was witty and attractive in his pictures (as we now know that doesn’t necessarily mean that’s what he actually looks like) and seemed intelligent and well rounded. Disappointing. I ask sooner now in order to not waste my time.

I started chatting with a man in the Phoenix area. If you are not familiar with Arizona, it’s about an hour drive between Tucson and Phoenix. Those of you who’ve lived in places like California or the NY tri-state area may be thinking that an hour drive is nothing. I suppose it’s all relative because here it’s a dauntingly long drive that makes dating someone in the other city unlikely unless it’s someone amazing. I suppose if there was high speed rail between the two it would be easier. Would it really be a Robbye post without at least one digression? I think not… Anyhow, in his pictures he’s very attractive. We chatted a little, then he wanted my email address so he could send pics to “show you more of me.” Uh… no. I declined the anticipated dick pics.

I consider Boston my second home. I have family and friends in New England and I visit as often as I can. On a whim, I set up Tinder to look for men in Boston. The response in a very short period of time was almost overwhelming. The Boston area is much larger than the greater Tucson area, so I imagine there’s just a lot more men there on Tinder. Keep in mind my Tinder page shows my location and how far away I am. A surprising number of men who expressed interest in me have in their profile that they’re looking for some version of just sex. Some want friends with benefits (FWB), some are into particular fetishes or roles, some are in open relationships, and a few want to cheat. How in the hell is that supposed to work two thousand miles away? It doesn’t say anywhere in my profile that I visit Boston often. I just don’t understand why they would even bother contacting me.

There’s a man that I see fairly frequently when one or both of us are walking our dogs in our neighborhood. He is hot. His body is slammin’ and he’s a cutie patootie. Before you get all excited, he’s got a GF. Anyhow, one day I’m out in front of my house doing yard work and he walks by with his dog. I’ve known where he lives because I’ve seen him doing yard work at his house a few blocks away, but he’s never known where I live. So he stops to talk for a few moments and I’m acutely aware that I look awful. Ill fitting yard work clothes, all dirty and sweaty, hair just hanging down. Not even a stitch of mascara on. Not that it matters… but better to look good than to not.

I had never seen his girlfriend until a few weeks after he walked by my house. They were walking their dogs. He and I sometimes stop and have a short chat, sometimes we just say good morning with a smile. That morning we just said hello with a smile. His girlfriend was another mattter. She didn’t even acknowledge my presence, didn’t look at me, smile, nod, anything. She just had a sour look on her face and continued to walk on by. She’s a very cute blonde and likely decades younger than me, she couldn’t possibly see me as any kind of threat. Maybe she’s nice most of the time. Maybe she was having a bad day. Maybe she was in a hurry. Maybe she had a lot on her mind. She’s very skinny so maybe she was hungry.

In my next post “ghost me once shame on you, ghost me twice shame on me” will be explained. Some deets on one of the men I met in person. I won’t give any details about him that would lead anyone to know who he is (except the 4 other people who already know who he is). He’s given up the right to not appear in my blog. Maybe you’d like to know exactly why….

In my last post I told you I signed up for Tinder – it’s not just for hookups anymore. I did not initially pay for a subscription because its free features are pretty good. But I kept getting “likes” and the only way to see them is to pay for it. I was super curious so I paid for a month. I had 600+ likes and counting from men all over the world! That’s a nice ego boost. Even though I had been on Plenty of Fish since August, when I un-hid my profile after only a month off I got messages from around 100 men (give or take a few) and I’m still getting them multiple times a day.

As you can imagine, with most people stuck at home there seem to be a lot of men with too much time on their hands. That’s likely one reason why I’m getting so much interest, at least on Plenty of Fish. I’m new on Tinder so a rush of men is to be expected, although 600+ seems like a lot. Before the pandemic I really only had extended conversations with men I was interested in seeing. I did not and still don’t want to waste my time. I am focusing on men I actually want to meet. But I’m also chatting with men that for one reason or another I may not ever see.

If you want to look beyond finding someone local, Tinder let’s you search anywhere. As I mentioned, I’ve been contacted by men from all over the world, for some reason more from Italy than anywhere else. Perhaps because they’ve been locked down for so long. Perhaps I’m just more attractive to Italian men, although I never got approached by men when I was in Italy. A friend and I got hit on by 2 Italian men when we were in Paris, but never in Italy. I was in Italy with a large group of people, but on our off time I usually hung out with the same two women. I think I never got hit on because one of the women I hung out with is stunningly beautiful, inside and out. Granted, that was 20 years ago. But she’s still stunning. Of course I’ve drifted off the subject, again (I’m endeavoring to find other ways to say “digress”).

I’ve been chatting regularly with a man who says he’s in Venice, Italy. The Tinder profile shows you how many miles away someone is, but I don’t know if that’s based on the info given by the person or generated with some type of location tracking aka GPS. Tinder tells me he’s 6042 miles away. It’s kind of cool chatting with someone in another country, if that’s indeed where he is. His written English is quite good, and with the types of errors someone for whom English is a second language would make. We don’t chat for very long and about nothing important. What did you do today? What did you have for dinner? What did I have for lunch. Generally the best time for us to connect happens to be around my usual lunch time 12:00pm-1pm, which is just about when he’s having dinner (9 hours later). We may have a video chat at some point. We’ll see.

A few weeks ago I connected with a man in Tucson who in his pictures is very good looking. Based on the issues I’ve had with men not looking like their photos and the number of scammers I’ve encountered, I was immediately skeptical. After chatting for not very long he wanted to meet. I told him there was no way I’m going to meet him right now. We’re obviously in a pandemic and are supposed to be social distancing. More men than I would have thought still want to meet now, but I can’t. It’s not even necessarily about my health. I take care of my 88 year old dad during the day, it’s about his health. Even when I tell them why, usually when I tell them I can’t meet right now they disappear. Not this man. Okay, cool. I told him about the problems I’ve had with men, uh… misrepresenting how they look in their profiles so he suggested a video chat. Okay, cool. So far Mr. Italy, so good.

We did a video chat the following evening. Guess what? He’s actually the man in the pictures! An older version and not quite as good looking, but it was definitely him. He really should update his pictures though. Coincidentally, he’s Italian. He says he was born in New Jersey to parents who immigrated from Italy. He’s fluent in Italian and worked in Italy for 9 years, came back to the States 6 years ago. I love Italy.

We’ve had a few video chats and a few phone conversations. I don’t recall how the subject of clothes came up, but he showed me his closet on one of our video chats, and lord have mercy he’s a man who actually likes to dress nice and wear clothes that fit properly. One of my biggest complaints about Tucson is so many people dress casually all the time. Some people actually wear jeans to weddings, even when it’s not a western theme or casual event. Maddening. I like to dress nice. In order to not be overdressed, most of my life I’ve tried to dress for an occasion here as most people do. In the last year or so I’ve decided I have nice clothes and I’m going to wear them. I’d rather be overdressed. Again she veers off subject…

He actually does speak Italian as he proved during one of our video chats. Did I mention I love Italy? Wouldn’t it be awesome to go there with a hot Italian man? Uh, yeah. Since Mr. Italy and I are still interested in each other, that’s all I’m going to say at this juncture. Nope, sorry. You have to wait.

In my life I’ve been given many second, even third and fourth chances, at times when I didn’t especially deserve it. Let’s face it, at times I didn’t deserve it at all. And I’m very grateful for it. Amongst other things, it has made me more understanding, empathetic and forgiving of others, qualities which I somehow have yet to learn how to bestow upon myself. A matter for another time. As usual, I digress.

I gave the pitcher another chance. I sent him a message, and yes it was a little verbose. It basically said… well, it’s easier if I just show you the message:

“I feel life is too short to beat around the bush. Our phone conversation left me nonplussed. It has nothing to do with your politics. I was surprised that you didn’t take your first opportunity to speak with me having a back and forth conversation. You talked almost the entire call. I was also surprised you took your first opportunity speaking with me to talk about anything political, let alone things that might offend me. It clearly says I’m a Democrat in my profile. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt that you perhaps didn’t realize how much you monopolized the conversation. If that is not indicative of how you normally speak with people, I’m happy to talk with you again if you’d like. If that is a pretty good representation of how you normally converse, I’ll wish us both luck in our searches and it was nice to meet you.”

(Okay, so something you should know about me, I have a large vocabulary and I like to use it. It’s a little test of knowledge and disposition. If he doesn’t know a word, that’s totally fine. I certainly don’t know them all. But if he’s put off by it then I know he’s not for me. Yet another digression…).

He almost immediately wrote back. Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize I was monopolizing the conversation, I hate dead air on a phone conversation and I was nervous…. and so on. I can be stupid even when I’m not nervous, so I understand if that was the case. I also didn’t want to immediately eliminate someone with whom I disagree politically. I’m trying to be more open minded in that regard.

So we kept chatting. Our next phone conversation was completely different. It was a balanced interchange on a variety of topics. That’s a fancy way of saying it was a good back and forth conversation. We chatted every day and talked on the phone again. Remember, it’s the middle of a pandemic so we can’t actually meet. Ain’t no one want to transmit the Rona. Neither of us suggested a video chat. I’m not sure why he didn’t. I didn’t because I’m not very photo or video-genic. I’m better in person. I don’t necessarily want my 1st face-to-face meeting to be via video. As you’ll see shortly, I quickly got over that.

And so it went for about a week. Then one Sunday morning I didn’t text him back as quickly as he thought I should. Seriously? I told him I had to feed the dogs and myself and then I would get back to him. He texted back “so I come in THIRD??” Uh, yeah, yeah ya do. We’ve never met. I hadn’t yet given him the correct spelling of my first name – in my profile it’s spelled “Robbie.” My real spelling makes me a lot easier to find, and something told me not to give it to him. In addition to the little freakout, he’d shown no interest in getting to know me. He never asked my last name, never asked what most people do – is Robbie short for Roberta? Never asked about my twin brother, my life past or present. And now I’m supposed to put him first? Aw hell no. Surprisingly, that’s not the end of the story, but it is for now.

Around the same time I was chatting with the pitcher I started chatting with another man. In his pictures he’s gorgeous. Frankly, I wasn’t sure why he’d be interested in me. There are a myriad of more beautiful, younger women I’m sure he could choose from. I don’t think I’m ugly by any means, but I’m realistic. I am not a “10.” I’m hoping to find a man who thinks I’m a “10” to him, but I have no delusions of grandeur.

Dating during a pandemic when social distancing is required is difficult, as I’m sure you can imagine. Messaging, phone conversations and video chats are about it. If it progresses, many people are doing video dinner dates and such. After about a week of chatting with Mr. Gorgeous I was a little bothered that he didn’t want to talk on the phone. Okay, a few men I’ve met also weren’t interested in a phone conversation likely because they had varying degrees of a lisp. He also didn’t want to do a video chat. That bothered me a lot (I told you I got over it, maybe someday I’ll tell you why). So he agreed to meet. Don’t get all bent out of shape. We practiced social distancing. It was to be a “drive by” meeting.

Right before I was leaving my house to meet him he sent me a message saying not to feel bad if I didn’t like what I saw. Ok, now my spidey sense really kicked in. That was definitely not good. I had to see what this was about, so I went anyway. I arrived and backed into a parking spot where we agreed to meet. He pulled up almost immediately and said “this is me. Are you still interested?” No, no I’m not. It wasn’t even the same man. Not that he didn’t look much like his pictures, it wasn’t even the same guy. Even if I had found him attractive I wouldn’t be interested in someone who would lie and misrepresent himself like that. Before I even got home he had deleted all our messages exchanged on the dating site. I reported him anyway.

There is an old adage, if it’s too good to be true, it probably isn’t true. I should have known that since most men I’ve met from online dating don’t look much like their pictures he probably wouldn’t either. I guess I wanted to believe someone as gorgeous in pictures as whoever that man is would be interested in me. I’m not saying he definitely wouldn’t. I’ve been told I’m smoking hot by a very handsome and sexy man in my life, so some men find me more attractive than others. But it seemed too good to be true, and it was.

On the plus side, I needed lettuce and we met across the street from my Safeway so at least I got an errand done.

When a plane crashes, it’s rarely just one thing that went wrong. It’s usually a lot of little things, little mistakes that lead to tragedy. A tiny part was faulty, this switch got turned off, that instrument was read wrong, etc. It’s the same with the Titanic. A raging fire weakened a bulkhead that was the last line of defense. The steel used for the rivets gets brittle in salt water. The ice berg sideswiped the ship, tearing into the rivets and hull just enough to flood enough compartments and overtop the bulkheads. Had the ship hit the ice berg head on she probably would not have sunk. If there were enough life boats. If the ship the California that was very close to the Titanic hadn’t turned off it’s wireless communications for the night. And so on.

I’m struggling with how, or even if I need to explain why I started online dating again, especially so soon after I said I was mostly done with it. You can probably surmise from the first paragraph that it was a lot of little things.

As you may recall I’m still on Match. I reactivated my Plenty of Fish account after hiding my profile for a month. It has the most free features. I already paid for Match and wasted money on other sites so I’m not going to pay for any more. And I started a Tinder account. I know what you’re thinking… “really Robbye? Why?” It’s not just for sex anymore. It evolved into a dating app a few years ago. I know of people that met on Tinder who are in happy, healthy relationships. So far it’s not been any different from the other sites. I didn’t really expect it to be.

I’ve had 3 mutual matches on Tinder so far, and only one who I’ve actually exchanged messages with. I was hopeful about him even though he lives in Sierra Vista which is about 65 miles south of Tucson, and he’s 42. We had chatted a little and then I asked him if we actually could go out, what would be a typical Saturday night for him (dating during the Coronavirus is an entirely different thing, I’ll elaborate another time). He said movies at home with his kids, he has them full time. Uh, no. I need someone I can go out dancing with, whenever it is we can do that again. It’s bad enough he’s more than an hour away.

I started chatting with a man on Plenty of Fish. He’s really cute. He works out and it shows if you know what I mean (insert winking emoji here). The chats haven’t been scintillating thus far, but his grammar and spelling are good so there’s that. We’ll see if we get to a phone call stage.

And finally, the reason for the title of this post is because of a former baseball pitcher I met. I started chatting with a man from Match. Cute and really positive in his description of himself in his profile. We didn’t chat very long before he gave me his phone number. Usually a phone number given that quickly is a scammer. I didn’t think he was – his chats matched his profile, no bad grammar, etc. – but it threw me a little. I responded a day later that I’m not super comfortable giving my number to someone I just started chatting with, which is true BTW. A woman can’t be too careful. He said he understood. He gave me his last name and told me to Google him. So I did.

He pitched in minor and Major League Baseball for 10 years, then coached for another 30. He’s from Tucson. His birthday is towards the end of September which is good for me (you’ll understand when I tell you about my two ex-husbands). In his profile he says he’s open to all opinions without saying which way he leans. That’s almost always a conservative. As I later learned, that indeed is the case with The Pitcher. We chatted a few more days. Last night I finally just called him.

First off, I like his voice which is good. A voice I don’t like is usually a killer. It’s not an automatic deal breaker though. Often people sound a little different in person than they do on the phone. He didn’t sound nearly as upbeat and positive as he did in his profile description, but I don’t know him and that was a snap judgment. I still liked (not loved, but liked) his voice. At first we had a decent conversation. Nice to finally talk to you, sorry your dad had dementia, sorry my dad has Alzheimers, how many siblings, etc. It was a good back and forth. For a few minutes. Then it turned into a Desert Dave (the first one) type “conversation” except with a conservative instead of someone I agree with.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I have no problem with sane conservatives. I do have a problem with current MAGA hat wearing trump fans. If you still support him, we don’t have the same values. Anyhow, our conversation rapidly turned into 10 minutes of The Pitcher giving me his opinion on the Coronavirus – he thinks the media has overblown it. He says it’s worse in California and New York, and he doesn’t want to say the blue states deserve it, but they do. He hates California for reasons known only to unhinged conservatives. If you don’t like Cali, don’t live there. Otherwise, why do they care so much? And on and on. I started to just tune him out. I finally told him “you know I’m a liberal, right?” (If he read my profile he knows I’m a Democrat). As a matter of fact, some of his best friends are liberals and he accepts them anyway. Isn’t that big of him. He had been talking so long, towards the end of the conversation I was surprised to hear my own voice. I ended the call shortly thereafter.

What surprised me is that it was his chance to impress me, show me he’s a thoughtful man and interested in me. Instead, I get a 10 minute diatribe in a voice that never got any more upbeat. Why on Earth would he just straight up insult me by bashing liberals?

He apparently did not feel the same about our conversation. I’m sure from his point of view it went great – he did all the talking. He sent me a “have a nice day” message this morning. Then he sent me this emoji 🥰 on Match. Lord have mercy. I’m thinking I might give him one more chance at a conversation. Perhaps I’ll explain the problems I had with our first conversation. Maybe I caught him in an unusual mood. Maybe he doesn’t even realize he monopolized the conversation and would be more conscious of it. Maybe that’s who he really is. But do I really want someone who would straight up disregard me like that? No, no I don’t. I’ll let you know what I decide.

The online dating is at a standstill, by choice. Well mostly by choice (or lack thereof). I have no interest in it right now, which is a good thing because there currently aren’t any interesting men online. I am down to Match, and that is only because I paid for 6 months so I’m leaving it active, for now.

Thankfully one of the two men I met in person is still in my life. You may recall at the end of my blog post “The Fed,” I told you I had one of the best dates I’ve ever been on that culminated with a kiss during which a random firework went off. It is that man. He is one of the reasons I’ve halted the online dating. I don’t know if it will go anywhere, but we enjoy each others’ company very much. The other man I met in person? Your guess is as good as mine. After almost a year since we connected, he is now regretfully silent. As has been the case since I started this blog, neither wants me to write about them. I’m still going to honor that request.

I titled my blog as I did because I hoped there would come a day when I’d no longer “have” to talk about online dating. In other words, there would come a day I wouldn’t have to date because I found someone special. No online dating and men who want to be left out of my blog have me searching for topics to write about in the “universe” and/or “life” categories. This post perhaps applies to both.

One morning in early January of 2019 I looked out my back window and there was a little brown dog in my backyard. I don’t have a little brown dog. There is no way for a dog to get into my yard on it’s own unless it hopped the 6′ fence. No way a little dog was jumping the fence. I was baffled how he got there. After sharing this with friends, we came to the conclusion that the dog was outside my house and someone thought it was mine and put him in my backyard. If someone was just dumping him, there’s a house across the street with dogs and a much lower front yard fence.

This happened during a period of days when it was unusually cold for Tucson, well below freezing for days. It had even snowed. It was freezing cold outside and the little guy was shivering uncontrollably. He was also terrified and would not come to me. Making it worse was my two 40 pound dogs scaring him more, not because they bothered him much, but because they are large and strange to him. He had hidden behind my storage shed so I made him a makeshift bed back there and put food and water out for him.

I had some things I had to get done so I left him alone for a while. A few hours later I sat down outside on the ground trying to be as least threatening as I could. He finally came to me. I think he understood I was there to help him and that my dogs weren’t going to hurt him. After that, he trotted into the house like he’d always been there and plopped down on one of the big dog beds. I could tell he was old. I called him “Grampy.”

I love dogs. I’ve had them most of my life. But I already had two and couldn’t keep another one. He had a collar but no tag. I took him to my vet and he wasn’t chipped. Thus began the process of trying to find his person. I reported that I had found him everywhere I could think of. I looked through a ton of lost dog reports on different sites. There was one dog reported to Pima Animal Care Center (the county dog “pound”) that could be the same dog, but there was no picture. Then a friend suggested I report it on NextDoor. I did so the following morning. Shortly thereafter a woman sent me a message that the dog I found looked like a dog reported missing. I was able to connect with the owner and he came to get Grampy.

Grampy was 13 years old. His given name is “Tico.” He went missing Christmas day which means he had been gone 10 days by the time I got him! The owners’ young daughter was so distraught she could barely eat. They lived quite a distance from me. We have no idea how he got so far or how he survived that long. The owners’ other 2 dogs are chipped, but not Grampy even though his person said it’s not the 1st time he’s gotten out. I told him if Grampy had a tag with his name and phone number he would have gotten him back at least a day sooner. Hopefully he has a tag now and it was a happy ending for all.

Fast forward to a week ago. I’m driving home and I see a huge 4 x 4 truck stopped in the middle of the road (it’s a side street so there wasn’t any traffic). He had stopped because there was a little dog who kept going into the road and he couldn’t drive without crushing the dog. The poor little guy wasn’t moving very fast and his tongue was hanging all the way out. I normally don’t try to get dogs that are running around because I’m afraid I’m going to chase them into traffic. This little guy didn’t have much fight in him and I was able to pick him up. The dude in the truck said he couldn’t take him. So I did. No way I’m leaving a little, and a now obviously very old dog to fend for himself on the street. If I hadn’t been able to grab him and pick him up it would be one thing. I was able to get him. I couldn’t live with myself if I left him there.

When we got to my house it was clear he’s very old. He can barely walk, see or hear. He had no tag, not even a collar. Once again I found myself starting the process of trying to find the dogs’ person. Again, I reported him “found” to all the appropriate places: Pima Animal Care Center, Humane Society, Facebook Lost and Found Pets, NextDoor, Pawboost, Craigslist, etc. No reports of an old, black, possibly chihuahua mix male dog that matched his description. Various people on the sites expressed interest in taking him. I was still hoping to find his person. I had found the dog too late in the day to take him to a vet to see if he was chipped. I took him to the vet the next day and he is not chipped. The ladies at the vet all loved him – he’s a sweet, cute little old guy. If I couldn’t find his person, or another home if necessary, one of the ladies there would probably take him.

I still have 2 dogs and don’t want another one. 3 days after I found him I was facing the fact that I either had to find him a home, take him to PACC, or make the difficult decision to euthanize a very old dog who could barely walk and may be in pain. My last resort was to drive around the neighborhood and look for flyers. The night before I was prepared to do just that my brother took it upon himself to do so. After driving around for a while and finding nothing, he was getting ready to give up and go home when he saw a single small flyer. It looked like the dog I’d found, but the pics weren’t very clear.

It was late when my bro found the flyer so I waited until the following morning to contact the number on the flyer. It was the dog she’d been missing for days. I reunited them shortly thereafter. I knew he is old, and he is – 16 to be exact. I told her he needs a collar and name tag (the dog is named Dozzer). She said he has a collar and tag. Dozzer was being “watched” by the owner’s ex-husband and he took the collar off. Dumbass.

Once again the universe sent me a little old dog to take care of. With the invaluable help of others, once again I was able to reunite him with his owner.

Those are not the only 2 old male dogs I’ve helped though. At work one day about 20 years ago, a co-worker asked if I knew anyone who wanted a dog. As a matter of fact I did. Me! It had been awhile since I had a dog and I was ready for one. The dogs person was moving out of state and to a place where he couldn’t take his dog. His name was Chico, and I was his last resort. If I couldn’t take him he would have to go to a property with a bunch of other dogs and live outside. Chico loved people. Although grateful he had someplace to go besides PACC, he needed a new person not a ranch. I was told he was 10 years old when I got him, but he was actually at least 15. He was a healthy dog for his age other than his propensity to puke fairly frequently. I really loved that dog.

I had him 6 years until he let me know he was ready to go. His last dog license said he was 23! I don’t think he was quite that old, but based on what his previous owner told me after Chico died, he was a tough dog. His tag said he was a spaniel mix. He had a purple tongue so I thought he had Chow in him and I was right. But he wasn’t a spaniel mix, he was a pitbull/Chow mix. PACC had put “spaniel” on his license because otherwise people might think he’s violent. Chico was the furthest thing from violent He was the sweetest dog I ever had.

His previous owner told me more. He had rescued Chico from PACC. This was long before it became what it is now which is a primarily no kill shelter. Chico was going to be euthanized the next day. His new person needed a dog on his rural property. Although he thought Chico was too small for his needs – about 40 pounds – he took him figuring he was going to die anyway so why not take a chance.

Not too long after he was adopted by his previous person, Chico was attacked by coyotes and he was hurt pretty bad. A choice had to be made quickly to either get him medical attention to save his life, or put him down. Clearly the choice was to save him. I will be forever grateful for that. For reasons I am not going into, at least for now, that sweet old dog helped save my life. Unfortunately, I lost contact with the person who gave me Chico. I’d love to be able to thank him for saving him for me. It’s a gift I can never repay.

After I wrote my last post “Second Semester,” I got a text from Dan the schoolteacher. It was a week after my last communication with him which had been a few days into the new year. We proceded to chat via text briefly and then agreed to dinner the following Tuesday. I sent him a message the Friday before our scheduled date. For our dinner date Tuesday, he had suggested a restaurant I didn’t really care for. Although I have tried lots of different kinds of food, including escargot once (ew by the way), I am a picky eater. He decided it was best if I picked the restaurant. He’s probably right about that. I felt kind of bad about poo-pooing his restaurant suggestion so my message was giving him a choice between four that I like.

I was surprised I didn’t hear back from him with his choice of restaurant. Before our previous two dates he had confirmed date, time and place. Not this time. Tuesday came and went with no word from Dan. I was okay with that. I was miffed just because it’s rude, but I wasn’t disappointed. Then I heard from him this morning. Mind you this is a week after our scheduled 3rd date and ten days since my last message to him. Seriously? This time he didn’t text me even though we’ve mostly communicated by text before. He sent his message via the dating site (Plenty of Fish). Some may not think anything of that small detail, but I know texting is much faster. It’s leaving it to chance when I’d see his message on the site. It’s a chicken shit move and the least personal way to communicate. This is what he wrote:

“Robbye, I am so sorry about last Tuesday. My life got a little crazy and I thought I texted you. When I didn’t hear back I thought I insulted you by not being able to keep the appointment. But when I checked through my text history, I see I must not have fully pressed ‘send’ — that’ll do it. Please accept my sincere apology.”

I have on occasion thought I sent a text but didn’t hit “send.” It happens. However, it’s never happened in a situation where I had plans with someone and didn’t check to see if I heard back from them for a week after a planned meeting. The following is the subsequent exchange of messages:

My response to his message… “[Dan], I appreciate the apology. I understand thinking you sent a text but never hit ‘send.’ That you didn’t check for a week and a half since my last text, and a week after our planned ‘appointment’ indicates you’re not really interested enough to continue. I wish us both luck in our searches.” Yes, I know I wasn’t really interested either, but at least I didn’t blow him off.

His reply… “I was thinking the same thing about you not really being interested during the holidays when I had time and you did not. Not only didn’t want to get together, but also didn’t want to talk. I does hurt a little that you write me off now that I have been busy handling personal challenges.” Yes, it was “I does hurt…” Just trying to show it exactly as it is. He and I never talked on the phone, not once. And I’m sorry but it’s more than a little self-centered to say “…during the holidays when I had time and you did not,” and the “you did not” never registered with him.

My final message… “[Dan], I’m sorry. I didn’t set up a date over the holidays because I knew I wouldn’t be able to do anything. Along with other things, my twin brother and his wife and daughter were here from Vermont. You agreed to a specific day and time then never followed up, didn’t cancel, just blew me off until the following week. I’d prefer not to persue this any longer. I wish you all the best.”

I understand shit happens. Not that much shit that it takes a week to get back to someone. More than once. I’ll never understand why it’s so difficult for men – some men anyhow – to take one minute, just 1 flipping minute to send a text. It’s a total lack of caring and respect. Poor communication is one of my biggest complaints in general, and with men specifically. If you say you’re going to do something, do it. If you can’t, just say so. Take 5 minutes to call or a few moments to text. It’s not that hard.

I have to admit my heart just isn’t in this right now. People tell me to enjoy it, but I am weary of online dating. As you know, there hasn’t been much for me to enjoy. The men on the sites blend together, one into the next. There’s not a single one I’m really interested in. I’m growing weary of trying with men I meet or potentially meet in person too. I have a few friends who have told me about someone who might be interested in me. When they see my photos or read my bio, they’re not interested. I’m told I’m better looking in person than in photos. I realize I’m not every mans’ cup of tea, and I’m not very photogenic, but still. Last week a man literally ran into me at the grocery store. He was cute, no wedding ring. A quick exchange and he was off. Nothing. It would be a great story to tell people how we met – we literally ran into each other at Safeway – but no.

So where do I go from here? I just don’t know. I guess we’ll all find out together!

You might think it doesn’t get cold in Tucson. You would be wrong. It doesn’t get too much below freezing often, but it does happen at least a few times each winter. We regularly get lows in the 30’s. Even with plenty of cold nights and a few cold days here and there, I have an inordinate number of coats for someone who lives in the desert. I don’t know why. Robbye, why are you telling us this!?! There’s a reason, I promise.

For our second date Dan the schoolteacher and I met at one of my favorite Mexican food restaurants called Casa Molina. I was early, so I got a margarita at the bar and waited until he arrived. You may recall an earlier second date with “Joe” when we went for Mexican food after a hike. I drank a large margarita too fast and was overly chatty. I was determined to not do that again. In addition, I was driving so I asked the bartender to go a little easy on the tequila. Dan arrived about 10 minutes later. We found a table and he ordered a beer.

The conversation was going well enough that we shooed the server away several times before finally ordering dinner. Determined to not get overly chatty I sipped my margarita. I probably should have drank that a little faster. Perhaps because we were both tired, about the time the food arrived the conversation had started to lag. Usually two people who don’t know each other well but are interested in the other person have no problem finding things to talk about. When I’m interested in someone I want to know about them, their life, their experiences, their likes and dislikes, and conversation rarely lags. That it did so, and so soon was not a good sign. However, I hoped it was an abberation and agreed to a 3rd date. Dan paid for our 1st date so I paid for this one.

The time came to leave. That night it was cold. Not freezing, but very cold and windy. I wanted to kiss him to see if there were any sparks. The problem was that even though I wore one of my warmest coats I was still quite cold (I told you there was a point). Dan forgot to grab a jacket before he left in the morning and he hadn’t yet been home after work. He was really, really cold. Cold overruled desire and we left. He later texted me that he really wanted to kiss me and I expressed the same sentiment. Next time we said. That was the week before Christmas. We communicated over Christmas, but I was hesitant to arrange a 3rd date just yet. However, I assured him I’d like another date but had a lot going on.

There are years when the holidays are fun for me. For reasons I’m not going into right now, there are years when they are not. This year was not. I felt I wanted to see Dan again and give it another chance. At the same time I didn’t feel any spark. I had no burning desire to see him again, or communicate with him often, or have long phone conversations. Between that and my general holiday difficulties I didn’t wholeheartedly want to set up a 3rd date. Additionally, my twin brother and his family were going to be visiting from Vermont over new year’s and I wasn’t going to take time away from them – I rarely get to see them. I joke with my brother that he could have moved a little farther away, like Maine.

I sent Dan a “happy new year” message new year’s day – only a week after our last communication – with the goal of setting up another date. Even with the lack of a spark I wanted to give it one more try. I did not hear back. Humpf. A few days later I sent another message. I have yet to hear back. Humpf. Perhaps he realized that if I was REALLY interested in seeing him again I’d make time to see him. Perhaps he was miffed I hadn’t communicated with him in a week. I didn’t feel it was necessary to tell someone I barely know that I was having a rough time over the holidays, which is one of the reasons I hadn’t contacted him. Maybe he met someone he is more interested in, or perhaps he just changed his mind. Regardless, I’ve been ghosted. Irritating but not disappointing.

Now I have to decide if I want to continue online dating. As you know from my previous post, I was considering canceling my subscription to Match. I have been discouraged about the lack of progress. I know dating sites do work. My twin met his amazing wife on Match. Two good friends met on Plenty of Fish. I have a customer at work who had given up on finding someone and she met her eventual husband on Match. I hadn’t seen her since I started online dating and she came into work a week ago. I mentioned to her I was on Match and not having any luck. She said to give it time, it took her a year to find the man who became her husband. I had already decided to cancel my subscription, but Match offered me 50% off for another 6 months. Keeping in mind the success of my brother and my customer at work, I took that offer. I’m still on Plenty of Fish. Between the two I will hopefully have more dates. We shall see.

Connections on the few dating sites I’m still on are getting harder to find. As you can imagine, after 6 months of viewing profiles there just aren’t enough new men to increase the odds I’ll make a connection. I’ve also pared it down to two sites which doesn’t help the odds.

At it’s peak, I was paying for 4 sites: Zoosk, Silver Singles (for people 50 and older), Plenty of Fish, and Match. I made some connections on Zoosk, but not enough to continue to pay for it. What you can do for free on Zoosk is very limited. After weeks of frustration with the free version I deleted my profile. I paid for 4 months of Silver Singles. A complete waste of time and money. Most of my matches were outside of Tucson, some as far as California, New Mexico and Texas. I did not make a single connection in 4 months. I deleted that account as well. I paid for a few months of Plenty of Fish which expired a while ago. I have kept that profile active because it has the most free features.

My 6 month subscription to Match is expiring this month. It is the last remaining site I’ve paid for. Doing a cost/benefit analysis, I’m not sure I want to continue to pay for it. I tried the free version of Eharmony first before deciding if I should pay for the full version. Their free version lets you see profile name and location, but little else including no photos. Too many of my matches were outside of Tucson to make it worth it. I deleted that profile too. I might try OurTime (for people 50 and older). I’m just not sure how much more I want to put into something that yields such poor results. In other words, why in the hell would I want to do this any longer?

Having said all that, I made a connection on Plenty of Fish about a month ago with a 56 year old man who just started teaching as his second career. You may recall a man I went on one date with who I called “Desert Dude,” a play on his profile name. The schoolteacher I connected with has the exact same profile name as the other Desert Dude, just on different sites. Fortunately, the Desert Dudes are not alike as the 1st one was kind of a turd.

I’m going to call the schoolteacher “Dan.” We chatted online a little over a period of days and decided to meet. Between his schedule and mine, it took more than a week to find a mutual time that would work. Dan participates in something called a Men’s Circle. I looked it up. Feel free to do the same. He had about an hour and a half between school and the Circle, so that’s when we met, at a place called Lodge on the Desert. It’s an historic boutique hotel and restaurant. We kept in touch by messaging every few days to confirm and reconfirm the day and time.

I have given up talking on the phone before I meet someone. I’m not sure why it’s not so important now. Some of the men seem reluctant to do so, perhaps because many of the men I’ve met for a date have a lisp to one degree or another. Not sure what’s up with that. In regards to meeting Dan, my tummy and back weren’t giving me any warnings. Just the usual anxiety of meeting someone new.

Although I am a Tucson native, and I know exactly where it is, I’ve never actually been to Lodge on the Desert. I wasn’t sure where we were supposed to meet, in the lobby or at the bar outside the restaurant so I hung out by my car until he got there. I look pretty much exactly the same as I do in my pictures so he recognized me when he pulled in. I swear every man I’ve met online and had a date with has a white pickup truck including Dan. Only one had anything different, and that was a white SUV (the other Desert Dude). Not sure what’s up with that either.

We made our way to the bar. We ordered drinks and apps. I had wine, Dan had iced tea. The participants in the Men’s Circle have committed to being sober during the weekly meeting, so he didn’t have the beer he assured me he would typically have. I certainly don’t require a man who drinks as long as they are okay with me drinking. Dan was just making clear he does imbibe. The conversation flowed smoothly. He’s cute, has pretty eyes, and is a thoughtful man with a variety of interesting life experiences. It was actually a 2-way conversation, unlike my dinner with the first Desert Dude. It was clear in our conversation we both would like a second date. We said things like “I’ll tell you that story another time.” As we left we hugged, but did not kiss.

Later that night he messaged me how much he enjoyed our date and his hope we can arrange a second one soon. I replied along the same vein. We ended up making a date the following week for dinner at one of my favorite Mexican restaurants. I’ll let you know how it went.

When I started online dating in July I didn’t expect to have an actual boyfriend or long term relationship at this point. I had hoped I would have someone I liked enough to take with me to the formal New Year’s Eve event I was attending again this year.

New Year’s Eve is mostly a couples night. New Year’s Eve 2015 I spent alone at home because my emotionality abusive alcoholic ex (EAAE) was passed out before I even got to his house from work at 6:30 p.m. I don’t remember what I did NYE 2016 or 2017. It was obviously unremarkable. I very likely stayed home. NYE 2018 I went to a formal event at a Country Club. I have a dear friend who invited me to go with her and her husband and 5 other couples. I had just started being interested in men again. The man who made me want to start dating just wasn’t an option. I hadn’t yet met anyone else. I did not have a date. The group of people I went with are a lot of fun. They took good care of me and never once made me feel like a 3rd, or 13th wheel as it were. I was hoping I wouldn’t be the only person at the party who didn’t have a date. I had hoped there might be 1 or 2 single men around my age attending the same party. If there were any there I didn’t see them.

The New Year’s Eve party I attended at the Country Club last year was my first black tie event. I’ve been to many formals, but never black tie. I was frankly very nervous about going. I’m usually anxious when facing unknown or new situations. This one doubly so. This is a fancy event at an exclusive country club. Would I fit in? At the time I knew only a few of the people I was going with. Would the rest of the group like me? Was my dress appropriate? I did my own hair and nails. Would people notice? I didn’t want to stand out because I looked like I didn’t belong. As it turns out I was stressed about nothing. I was dressed appropriately. Hair and nails were fine, and no one would really notice anyway. I was with a great group of people, 4 of whom I already knew, the other 8 were new to me. It didn’t matter. They took my dateless ass into their fold and I had a great time.

Fast forward to NYE 2019. From what you know about my online dating struggles, you can likely guess I went without a date. Again. I wasn’t as nervous about my dress and hair and such so the anxiety level this year was definitely lower than last year, but I can always find something to stress about. The worry gene was passed down from my grandmother to my mother to me. Thanks ladies. This year I was hoping they wouldn’t be disappointed that I couldn’t remember some of their names. There were also 2 new couples in the group. So 8 couples, my friends stepson who I had not previously met, and me. I’ve historically been bad at remembering names. I’ve been actively working on it and I’m getting better, but how was I going to remember them all?

As usual I was worried about nothing. You would think I’d have learned by now that worrying is silly, but you would be incorrect. I’m a work in progress. Some of the group from last year forgot my name, and they were all perfectly fine with me having to become familiar with them again. The new people were just as awesome as the rest of the group. And I remembered everyone’s name, eventually. From other visits to Tucson I’ve come to know better several of of the women in the group, amazing women I was glad to see and spend time with. The group was just as fun as I remember.

All in all it was a good night. Formal but not stuffy. Wine and liquor flowing. Fun fact: I prefer red wine, but when I go out I typically drink white. Why? Because I’m a klutz and I tend to spill. White is way easier to clean. Anyhow, there was lots of good food, great company, and fun music to dance to. In my every day life I spend a lot of time with friends who are couples. Not once have any of them ever made me feel unwelcome or intrusive. My NYE group was no different. All the couples live in another state and they know each other well, but I never felt excluded. Until midnight. It wasn’t their fault. They tried to get me on the dance floor for the balloon drop, but they were all on the dance floor with their spouse. I wasnt going to be by myself on the dance floor when everyone else was kissing their spouse at midnight. I sat at the table trying to pretend it didn’t matter. I don’t think I was very convincing.

We left when the DJ stopped and they turned the lights on. Some in the group were disappointed. I was glad to go. I typically have trouble sleeping, but the previous night was bad. 4 hours of sleep and a migraine. The migraine meds I took that morning had confined the pain to the back right portion of my head. I got only a quick nap before I had to get ready to go. As you can imagine, I was pretty tired when 1 a.m. came. We went back to my friends’ house. I ordered a Lyft (I prefer Lyft over the other ride sharing companies, just a personal choice) and reluctantly said my goodbyes. I was simultaneously eager to go home and go to bed and loathe to do so because I don’t get to see these people very often. My older dogs’ bladder won. My Lyft arrived and I left. My driver was very cute. We got to talking and I told him how I didn’t have a date for the event. He said he would have been my date! I’m sure he was just being nice. He was maybe late 20’s. Although I don’t look my age, I am 52. But it was nice of him to say and nice to hear.

I have 364 days to find a date for next year (2020 is a leap year). Wish me luck!

I thought I might periodically give you an idea of my life before I started dating a year ago. I’m going to save the story of my early “dating” life for a time when you know me better. It’s difficult for me to discuss, partly because of how it reflects on me, and partly because there are things I don’t necessarily want my family – or the world for that matter – to know. So this is from 2005 to present.

To the two men who I was in a relationship with between 2005 and 2016 I will not use your names, but there will be people who know who you are. I am not going to share anything too personal or anything that isn’t true. There are some things you do not know or may not like, so read on if you still want to…

My longest relationship was 10 years with a man to whom I was never married (how’s that for grammatical correctness!). He will heretofore be referred to as “The Ex.” We had dated for about a year, broke up, then got back together a few years later when we subsequently moved in together. At the time I loved him. I don’t know if I was “in love,” but he certainly made my heart beat faster and my loins heat up. A few years later I found out he cheated within the first year we were back together. At the time I had a dog named Lucy who was my angel on earth. I loved her more than I did most humans and would do just about anything to take care of her – staying with him helped me do that. So I believed him when he said he wouldn’t do it again and I stayed. But he did do it again. And again. And again. He was a serial cheater. And he didn’t love me. Why on earth did I stay 10 years? Because it was easier than leaving. Because I didn’t want to struggle financially again. Because it was the best way to take care of my dog.

The first 11 years I had my dog Lucy my life was ruled by her. By choice. Living in a relationship with someone I no longer loved and who never loved me was killing my heart and my soul. As much as I loved my dog, I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t slowly die inside and stay with him for my dog. So we left. There are things about The Ex that I miss, but sadly I haven’t missed him a single day. He and I had some great times. He otherwise took good care of us, especially Lucy. Of the few people I trusted to take good care of Lucy when I was traveling, he was the one I trusted the most. Of course I benefited in many ways from the relationship, but it feels like I wasted 10 years of my life.

The moral of this part of the story: unless neither one of you is interested in a lifelong partnership, if you are in a relationship that may get serious ask yourself “do I want to spend the rest of my life loving them with everything in my heart and soul I have to give?” If the answer is “no,” you are wasting your time and theirs. Every day you’re together is one less day to find the person who does want to spend their life loving you and you them. The Ex didn’t value or cherish me. He certainly didn’t love me. He didnt call me once when he was in Iraq for a year. I never met, talked to or corresponded with any of his family (they are in New York), and I met very few of his friends. And he never once told me he loved me. Who knows who I could have met had I left when I found out about the first time he cheated. Maybe better, maybe worse. I’ll never know.

The last year or two I was with The Ex I didn’t really feel much of anything for him. I would have sex with him once or twice a week because we lived together. I felt it was part of my responsibility in our relationship, as crappy a relationship as it was. He was my friend, an occasional companion to baseball games and New Year’s Eve events. But I no longer loved him. When we left I felt as though I had left the relationship long before and dating right away would be okay. Very soon after Lucy and I left, I got involved with a new man. I’m going to call him “EAAE” for reasons that will become clear later. I had known him tangentially for 9 years. He was someone who used to work for the same company as I do. It wasn’t like I was getting involved with a total stranger. Or so I thought. It got serious way too quickly, which should have been a warning sign, but I ignored it just like I did the others. Yes, there were other warning signs, and I explained them away or ignored them. We were in love. We ended up living together in a house I hated, in an area I hated, but I was with the man I thought I loved so it would be okay, right? Wrong.

I knew EAAE was an alcoholic. He had been able to control his drinking when we started dating, but when we moved in together I realized how bad it really was. He had lost his job at our mutual place of employment, another warning sign I ignored. He was “working” for himself then. At first he had work almost every day and was able to cover his bills. Partly because of his laziness, partly because of the alcoholism, the work dried up. On days he had nothing to do is when he’d usually start drinking super early, sometimes as early as 8-9 a.m. Some days he’d pass out as early as noon or one o’clock and expected me to be quiet until I went to bed around 11pm. Needless to say, we rarely went anywhere. Even if he could stay sober long enough to go out in the early evening, he couldn’t drive. I always drove, and more and more I had to pay if we went out. I was subjected to verbal and emotional abuse. He accused me of cheating because I was gone longer running errands than he thought I should be. I was apologizing all the time even if it wasn’t my fault just to keep the peace. And on, and on, and on.

After a little more than a year together the final straw was when I couldn’t trust him to be alone with my 13 year old dog Lucy. Everyone who had ever spent more than a few minutes with her loved her. She was sweet, smart, funny, willful, beautiful… She was the most amazing dog and I couldn’t understand why he didn’t like her. He didn’t care about me or my feelings at all. He didn’t even care enough to pretend to like Lucy. We left right before Thanksgiving 3 years ago. We stayed with my dad for 4 months while I found a place to live. My dear father was overly generous and gave me the down payment for my house. I think he felt he had to make up for things that happened when I was in high school. That’s a story for another time. He had nothing to make up, but I think it made him feel better and I was happy to finally have my own home.

If you read the post “The Musician,” you may be wondering what my body was telling me when I was with The Ex and then EAAE. I had stomach and digestive issues most of the time I was with The Ex. I thought it was part of getting older, a result of the anxiety I’m feeling most of the time. I had some problems off and on in early adulthood, but it got worse as I got older. It was the same with EAAE, stomach and digestive problems most of the time. I thought it was normal for me, and may just be how I always am (it might still be my norm, but hopefully not because of being with the wrong man). I didn’t understand what my body was telling me, hadn’t yet learned to listen to it. I really, really wish I had learned to listen to it when I was young. There’s a lot of things I wish had been different when I was young. Stories for another time.

I understandably did not date – by choice – for almost exactly two years from the day I left my emotionally abusive alcoholic ex, or EAAE (I told you it would become clear). Of course during those two years I had any number of interested men. To be fair though, only 1 or 2 would have interested me otherwise. It hasn’t really changed much since I started dating – only a few men here or there I’m interested in, and you know how my online dating is going.

As bad as my EAAE was, there are some very good things that came from it. When I left my 10 year relationship with The Ex, I didn’t have very many friends in Tucson. Most of the people I liked to be with are in Boston and Vermont (friends and family that moved away). My EAAE has a sister that I like very much. I’m going to call her “Katie.” Her and her husband – I’ll call him “George” – are amazing friends and amazing human beings. We stayed friends after the breakup, a fact that irked my EAAE to the point where he’s basically ended his relationship with his sister. Although we weren’t married, our joke is that I got his sister and her husband in the divorce.

Through Katie and George I have made literally dozens of friends, including a few to whom I feel very close. I’ve been accepted into a community of wonderful, caring people. I actually have friends I want to spend time with, lots of them. I’ve been introduced to many good local bands. I met the man that made me want to start dating again at a weekly performance by an awesome band called the Bryan Dean Trio. One of the men I met in person I met going to a weekly gig by Top Dead Center, another good local band. Without my EAAE I don’t think I would have my own home. I know I would likely have never met most if not all of the many amazing people who are now in my life, or found any of the great live music I now enjoy. In short, because of the worst relationship I’ve ever had I got so much good.

I have a lot of regrets in my life, and that’s an understatement. One of the biggest is my relationship with EAAE. I wish I hadn’t gotten involved with him let alone live with him. But every time I think that, I realize much of what is meaningful in my life now is because of him. Had we not dated I probably wouldn’t have my cute little house. Had I left sooner Katie and I may not have become such good friends. Had I left sooner I wouldn’t have many of the wonderful people in my life. Had I left sooner I likely would have nothing that I have now. My life, much like me, is far from perfect. But I cannot deny it is certainly better because of my emotionality abusive alcoholic ex.

Today I am sharing a few of the more remarkable things I’ve seen and experienced on the different dating sites. I’m hopeful I can share more along this vein in a future post, but this will have to do for now. Keep in mind these are extreme examples. The vast majority of users are “normal,” whatever that is.

Let’s start with a few of the more, uh, memorable profile pictures. Yes, these are the actual photos these men decided to have as their primary profile picture. None of these have been edited other than for size and to hide any personal information. Boobs seem to be popular.

(Warning, the last image in this section includes a word some may find offensive. Actually, the whole picture is offensive).

Next are a few profile names. These were purposely chosen by the user. Only them and god knows why.

And finally, for this post anyhow, here are a few messages I’ve received.

The last conversation pictured was the only person I actually reported as a scammer. Although there have been many scammers, this one was unique. The mans profile said he was in Phoenix. One of the questions on Plenty of Fish is “do you have a vehicle?” I don’t know why. This mans’ profile said no, he didn’t have a vehicle. You can see that interchange in the picture. He subsequently changed that to “yes” in his profile. I reported him because the next day his profile said he was in Texas. Then less than 2 hours later he was in Michigan. And he wasn’t traveling. There is no flight that would get him from Texas to Michigan in less than 2 hours.

In a future post I’ll show you a few examples of scammers. Their profiles are easily identified once you know what to look for. If it’s not easily determined from their profile, their messages leave no doubt.

I’ve been doing the online dating thing for 4 months. Between 5 different dating apps I was on at one point, I’ve sent the equivalent of a “like” to at least 500 hundred men, and that’s a low estimate. Four actual dates, one almost date, one second date. Disappointing, discouraging, disheartening – pick your favorite “d” verb. A few friends tell me I’m more attractive in person than in my pictures. I’ll admit I am not very photogenic, but I thought my pictures were pretty good. Certainly not bad enough to turn off hundreds of men. And it’s not like I haven’t had attention – between the 5 sites I’ve been contacted by at least 1000 men, only a relative few I found interesteing. I do think I’m kind of an acquired taste, but (as I am wont to do) I digress.

On the dating sites my requested age range is generally 42-65 (as a reminder I’m 52). About a month ago I got a message from a man who is 67. I’m calling him “Desert Dude” or “DD” (it’s a play on his profile name). He said he’s only 2 years outside my age range and would I consider meeting him. I looked at his profile. He’s very fit and young looking for his age, and quite attractive. He seemed to be genuinely interested in meeting me. I have a dear friend who is 67 and he’s a great companion to his younger wife, so I thought what the heck.

A few weeks after our first communication we finally set up a date. We didn’t do a lot of communicating before our date which was actually fine with me in this case. I’m not sure why. As you know I like to at least message a little to get to know him a bit first. I guess I felt that with him it would be better to just meet. In this case I suggested the place and gave him the choice of drinks and apps at 4pm or dinner at 6pm. He chose dinner. Cool.

Maybe because of the lack of communication I was quite ambivalent about meeting DD. I didn’t have any expectations and wasn’t super hopeful it would lead to anything, but I had to try. My tummy was upset, but it felt more like first date jitters than a warning. We met at a great local spot in the north foothills called Fini’s Landing – we all just call it Fini’s. I was, as is becoming typical for me, early. It was a little chilly, however there isn’t really any place inside to wait for someone so I stood outside in the chilly evening. Only a few minutes later DD arrived, a little early himself. He looked like his pictures which was good. He’s totally cute, like for sure. I watched Valley Girl the other night. Sorry…

We found a table. I ordered my usual chardonnay and he ordered a 7 and soda. He was very specific about making sure it was Seagram’s 7. No worries. I understand. I used to drink Bacardi almost exclusively. I didn’t like any other rum. I am currently obsessed with carne asada. The last time I ate at Fini’s I had carne asada tacos, and they were good. My mouth is watering right now just thinking about them. Yes, I again got the carne asada tacos, and a house salad. He got salmon and a shrimp taco. With all of the ordering done, we could converse. I thought.

He dominated at least 80% of the conversation. When he wasn’t talking about himself he didn’t seem very interested in my answers to his questions. When I tried to interject periodically I was often rebuffed. He’d just continue to talk right over me. If you were to ask him what he learned about me, he could tell you I have an elderly father with Alzheimers, I’m a life-long Tucsonan, and maybe a few other things. I got his whole friggin’ life story. The only animated 2-way conversation we had was when we were talking about local politics, and even then his opinion or thought was more important.

When our food came DD had rolled up his sleeves on the button front shirt he was wearing. No, it’s not a “button down” shirt. There is a “button down collar” and a “button front shirt.” Until people started screwing it up, there was no such thing as a “button down shirt.” It’s so commonly used now there’s no point trying to change it. Don’t even get me started on “sequins” and “sequence.” Digressing again… I point out his sleeve situation because he was constantly adjusting his rolled up sleeves. He kept fixing the folding of said sleeves several times a minute. After a while I stopped paying attention to what he was saying and marveled at his sleeve adjustments. I wanted to see if he would notice my attention had strayed to his sleeves. He did not.

I love sports. As a child, I watched sports with my dad. Football, baseball, basketball yes, but also things like the Indy500, Ali fights, the Olympics, Wide World of Sports, etc. My dad listened to Dodgers games on the radio, and you can’t do better than grow up listening to Vin Scully call a baseball game. Because of that I always thought my dad was a Dodgers fan. As it turns out, he is an Orioles fan. Dodgers games were the only ones we could get on the radio! To this day I like listening to sports on the radio. And there really isn’t anything much better than going to a baseball game on a beautiful day and enjoying some adult beverages. Yes, I love sports.

Even if the date itself had gone well, he still isn’t a good match for me. DD doesn’t like or pay attention to sports. Any of them. He likes to run and hike. That’s his sports. I like to go out for a myriad of different types of music, and I can and will dance to almost anything. He occasionally goes to see the Tucson Symphony. I love classical music, but ya can’t dance to it. And he doesn’t really like to go dancing. Thats not a dealbreaker as many men don’t like to dance. It was another nail in the 2nd date coffin. I mentioned to him a place I like to go frequently to listen to live music that is definitely not on the west side. He had no idea where I was talking about, he never goes that far west. He lives in a condo in a wealthy part of town, but is a minimalist. I am not a minimalist. Ask my friends and family. To be fair, a good amount of my non-minimalist “stuff” is sewing and crafts related. Much of the rest is Halloween and Christmas stuff, and tools and wood and such in my workshop. And clothes, lots and lots of clothes and shoes. I need to have the “right” shoe or the outfit just feels off.

I’m thinking of renaming this post “But I Digress.”

Remember, I basically set up the date so I fully expected to pay for dinner. When the check came I reached for it first and he practically snatched it from my hand. I insisted on paying the tip. I think men appreciate a woman who doesn’t just assume the man is going to pay for everything. And I’m not one of those who get the most expensive thing on the menu because someone else is paying. I actually tend to do the opposite and usually go for a less expensive option. I was grateful as always that I didn’t have to pay the whole bill.

A big test for me is if a man walks me to my car. Even if I’m parked close most men will walk me to my car. I typically park farther away on purpose pretty much everywhere I go. I do it for the extra exercise. Every bit helps and it does add up. I take the stairs a lot too. He asked if I was parked close, and upon my confirmation that tonight I was, he left. It should go without saying, but there won’t be a second date with Desert Dude. I enjoyed the carne asada tacos so much I went back to Fini’s a few days later with friends. Yes, I got the carne asada tacos and a house salad. And I’d do it again too.

“Joe” and I indeed decided to have a 2nd date, but scheduling proved difficult. My best friend and two close friends were in town from Boston for a wedding we were all attending. Usually the out-of-town guests attend the rehearsal dinner. I figured that would leave me 2-3 free hours for a date with Joe. It turns out only my BFF was attending the rehearsal dinner ’cause he’s actual blood family which left me time with my other 2 friends. It did not leave me time for a date with Joe. We had to reschedule. He was very understanding. We rescheduled for Sunday evening, two nights later.

Mexico celebrates “Dia de los Muertos,” or “Day of the Dead” the day after Halloween. Usually the first Sunday after Halloween Tucson has it’s own version of the observance of Dia de los Muertos when we hold a parade called the All Souls Procession. Most people walking in the parade and even some spectators dress up in different costumes and face paint. Many have remembrances of those who have passed, pictures mostly, but some have more elaborate small floats and such to honor one or more individuals. Joe and I were going to go watch the procession which starts around dusk (530-6pm). That Sunday I spent the day with my BFF and his family and our friends at his nephews’ house. By the time Joe called (3:30 PM) to arrange to meet, the carne asada and pollo asada were just about done on the grill. I don’t get to see my friends and my BFF and his family very often, and I am currently obsessed with carne asada. I really didn’t want to leave yet. It was Joe who suggested another reschedule. At least I know he’s flexible and understanding. We finally scheduled a hike and dinner on the following Thursday.

In light of what the musician taught me about trusting my body to tell me what’s right, you may be wondering what my body was telling me about Joe. Other than the usual 1st date jitters and 2nd date anxiety about where we were going (because it was unfamiliar), my body wasn’t telling me anything. No upset tummy, no back pain which I’ve learned is usually a good sign.

Date day arrives. My biggest concern was finding a cute outfit I could hike in and easily make appropriate for dinner out. I decided if I was okay going hiking alone with him, it would probably be okay for him to know where I live and he could pick me up. My close friends will tell you I am not a good housekeeper. Over the last few months I have made an effort to keep the common areas neat and somewhat clean – Tucson has a lot of dust, it’s almost a losing battle. The problem keeping my house neat comes when I’m working on a project. In this case post-Halloween costume and decoration stuff was strewn about the house. I did not intend for Joe to come inside, but I was running late feeding the dogs and couldn’t just leave him sitting outside. I was a little embarrassed about the clutter. I apologized for the mess, fed the dogs and we left.

I admit I found him better looking on our 1st date, and thus far I enjoyed our 1st date conversation more than I was enjoying our 2nd date conversation. We arrived at the trailhead and set out on our hike, talking as we walked. The conversation was getting better. We found a spot to sit and watch the sunset. He brought some white wine that was actually pretty good. We sipped, talked, and watched the sun go down. Before it got too dark we headed back. We were hiking in the foothills on the north side of Tucson, and we made our way to a Mexican food restaurant nearby. The weather was nice enough to sit outside. More conversation, good food, and margaritas. I don’t think I should have had all of that margarita. It was a large margarita. I think I over shared with Joe. It wouldn’t be the 1st time. I really need to remember to limit my alcohol consumption when out with someone new.

When we were leaving we finally kissed. He’s a pretty good kisser. He has a vandyke (it’s the facial hair most people incorrectly call a goatee. A goatee is just the chin beard part. The vandyke has the chin beard with a mustache and they are connected around the mouth). It’s not soft, instead it’s pretty scratchy and stiff which I don’t like, but it’s not a dealbreaker. In my Mexican food and margarita fed mind, I agreed a 3rd date would be great.

It’s now 5 days since the date with Joe and I realize I have no burning desire to see him or even talk to him. He’s a nice man with beautiful eyes, but I don’t feel any spark with him. Joe is not smart enough for me. I have mentioned this before with other men. As a reminder, I don’t expect an Einstein. I am not an Einstein. The gulf between Joe and I is pretty vast. Our lives took very different paths. He followed a creative path away from education. I did not. We have very different life experiences.

Perhaps most concerning, Joe doesn’t like sports. Any of them. None. He doesn’t watch them on TV or in person. Not football, basketball, tennis, ice dancing, rhythmic gymnastics, curling, badminton. Nothing. He doesn’t even like to go to a baseball game and enjoy some adult beverages. Who doesn’t like that? I at least need someone who’d drive up to Phoenix for a Diamondbacks game and get me a margarita. He said he prefers to participate instead of watching. Um, no. In case it isn’t obvious, we won’t be having a 3rd date. I think it’s safe to say he feels the same because I haven’t heard from him.

I’ve been doing the online dating thing for three and a half months. As y’all should be aware of by now, I’ve had 3 dates and no second dates with any of the men I’ve met online. That’s about to change.

I met a man on Match, for now I’ll call him “Joe.” We messaged back and forth a few times. Between our two schedules, it was difficult to find a time to meet. We finally set a date for almost a week away. Some men need to continue messaging before the date, especially if the date is a ways away. Some do not. Everything being equal, I’m fine either way. He did not feel the need for constant communication. He checked in with me to say hello and confirm our date.

Shortly after we had arranged to meet, I got a message from Joe addressed to “Elizabeth,” expressing sympathy for her surgery that delayed them meeting, and telling her of course they can reschedule (that was the gist not the entirety of their conversation). My 1st instinct was to be taken aback. I very quickly got over that, after all we’re on Match to date. The part of me that doesn’t trust men gave me the oddest thought that he did it on purpose to make himself seem more desirable. What it came down to is it didn’t really matter why. It wasn’t something that would make me want to cancel the date. I wasn’t going to even say anything about the mis-sent message, but if he didn’t do it on purpose she’d probably wonder why he never responded, and he’d wonder why she didn’t reply. So I replied “I’m not Elizabeth.” His response was a longer than necessary explanation and apology, but that’s okay. Better too much than too little I suppose. He assured me he is interested in meeting me, writing “really, I am looking forward to meeting YOU. ” He uses “lol” a lot. I told him I certainly wasn’t concerned about him meeting other women ’cause that’s what we’re there to do. I jokingly told him I was slightly concerned with his overuse of “lol.” When we confirmed our date he said he’ll be the one with “lol” tattooed on his forehead. He has a sense of humor about himself. I like that.

Date day arrives and I’m honestly not really wanting to go. It wasn’t a matter of my body telling me not to go. It was a result of my weariness with the men I’ve met in person, and the bad experiences with the Fire Captain and the Musician. As you can likely guess from the title of this post, I made myself go. We arranged to meet on the patio of a nice Italian restaurant not far from my house. I was early as usual. I found a place outside to sit, ordered my chardonnay and prepared to wait. Fun fact: I actually somewhat prefer red wine. When I’m out I usually drink white wine, primarily because I am a klutz. I can guarantee at some point or another I will spill said wine. I’d rather spill white than red.

He too was early, and was dressed casually but nice. Joe sat down (next to me not across from me which I liked) and took off his sunglasses. I was pleasantly surprised that he is better looking in person than in his pictures. He has really pretty eyes. What is the proper word to use when describing the beauty of a man’s eyes? Anyhow, we had drinks, eventually ordered some apps and just talked, for hours. I really don’t recall what exactly we talked about. It wasn’t like I was dreamily staring into his eyes with no care about the conversation. We talked about a lot of things, and before we knew it 3 hours had passed! I can’t remember all that. Sheldon Cooper I am not.

Joe paid the bill and first declined then accepted my offer to pay the tip. He walked me to my car. We had a nice long hug. I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but he had to settle for kissing my cheek. We finally exchanged phone numbers and last names. I gave him the correct spelling of my first name. For several reasons, on the dating sites I spell my name “Robbie.” It’s easier to pronounce for one thing. Some people get thrown off by the “bye” at the end of “Robbye.” It also makes me harder to find. The spelling my mother gave me is unique enough as to make me easier to find. Anyhow, we agreed we’d like a second date.

As of this writing, we haven’t yet had a 2nd date. We are trying to reschedule a date I had to cancel because of a last minute schedule conflict. It will be my first second date from my online dating experience. We’ll see how it goes.

I will be posting blog entries that include subjects not related directly to online dating. Hence “musings on life, the universe… and dating.” This is one of those posts.

Warning: explicit language.

In my first post I mentioned that I had met a man that I wanted to date, but he is not dating material. About that same time I met another man I wanted to date. I’ll call him “Marvin.”

Out enjoying a band and dancing with friends one night, I saw a man by himself. He wasn’t really paying attention to anyone, just dancing and enjoying the band. It’s a great band, “Key Ingredients of African Soul.” What I call happy music. But I digress. I asked one of my friends if he is cute and she said yes (my eyesight at night isn’t always the best and it’s a fairly dark place). Having no interest in men for 2 years left me rusty and unsure. I was a big fat chicken and only met him because my friend shoved me toward him so we’d dance together. We exchanged phone numbers and he contacted me the next day. Long story short, it turns out Marvin is not dating material either. He’s married. I’ll give him credit for telling me right away. His wife (according to him) is a raging alcoholic. When she’s drinking, he goes out dancing by himself. Here’s the thing about Marvin, although he is really not very good at it, he loves to dance to almost anything, and so do I. It’s so hard to find a man who likes to dance to more than 1 or just a few types of music. So while he’s not dating material, he is dancing material. When his wife is drinking, we go out dancing. When she’s sober, we don’t. We aren’t dating, aren’t even really good friends. We dance and we flirt (because it’s fun). We both know the ground rules, or at least I thought we did.

I hadn’t heard from him in a while, and he randomly showed up where I was celebrating my birthday. He wanted to go home with me. What the hell? No! We don’t have that kind of relationship and he knows it. He spent much of the next morning trying to cajole me into letting him come over. Apparently his wife was out of town so he had a “free pass.” Uh, no you don’t. When he realized that wasn’t going to happen, he got mean saying things like we’ve been out enough times I owe him, I’m a tease (I’m not), I’m all talk (I’m not), etc. Fuck that. He was still giving me shit the day after that, trying to make it all my fault. Nope, nuh uh, I don’t think so. I told him to read back through his texts from yesterday and leave me the fuck alone. He did, well he read back through his texts. He did not leave me the f alone. Several days later, he contacted me. Marvin apologized profusely, promised he wouldn’t again pressure me for sex, and will abide by our original arrangement: dancing and flirting (because it’s fun). I accepted his apology because that was totally out of character for him, and because I really need someone to go out dancing with. He knows this is his only chance to keep his dancing partner. We’ve gone dancing 3-4 times since.

The last time we went dancing he again pressured me for sex. I called his bluff. I told him follow me home and I’d fuck him. I figured he wouldn’t go through with it, and I knew I wasn’t going to. Sure enough, he turned around and went home. Go home to your wife Marvin. No wonder she drinks…

It’s been a while since that happened and I haven’t heard from him. Good boy. Marvin is likely embarrassed I called his bluff, and he knows I probably don’t want to hear from him (he’s right), or at least I thought he’d know. Last night he shows up to the place I go almost every Saturday evening “shocked” that I’m there. He’s been there with me before, and he’s “shocked” to see me there. Don’t get me wrong, he’s got a slammin’ body especially for a man his age (60), always dresses really well, and is cute as hell, but seriously? He’s been a total dick to me on more than one occasion. He weirdly cries at the drop of a hat. And if that weren’t enough, he’s really not very smart. That should be obvious by the fact he just didn’t get it that he can’t pressure me for sex. But it’s other things like he almost never gets the correct your/you’re, or there/their/they’re. It’s dumb luck when he gets it right. We all know how much I like that.

And then there’s the part where he loves to dance to anything… By virtue of him backing down when I called his bluff, I now have the power in our dynamic. I might still go out dancing with him. I’m not sure what I’m going to do about Marvin. To be continued…

Online dating day 2 was worse than day 1, and that’s saying something. Day 3 was a little better, so there’s that. Don’t get me wrong, there are attractive or interesting men on Match with whom there is mutual interest. Here’s the 1st problem: most of them are in Phoenix. I hate Phoenix. It’s wannabe L.A. without the beach, hotter than any human should have to endure, and it’s an hour and a half away. That probably sounds normal to people living in the L.A. or the Tri-state area, but here’s it’s not normal to drive an hour and a half to see someone. So unless they like to drive, that’s not going to work. 2nd problem: most of the men I’m interested in aren’t reciprocating. I’ve had plenty of interest from men I wouldn’t date if they paid me, men who didn’t read my profile and are hard core trumpers, men who think “hello pretty,” or something equally as banal would attract my attention.

It’s now been about a week, and so far I’ve only been on Match. I decided to start on Match because my twin brother met his amazing wife there, and I have several other acquaintances who have met their spouses there. It’s becoming clear to me that after a week of looking at so many pictures of men they are starting to blur together, there isn’t enough choice for me in Tucson on just 1 site. There might be a million people in the greater Tucson area, but that doesn’t mean there are a million quality men. The pool of available men online with whom there is mutual interest is much like the pool of available men in person with whom there is mutual interest – slim pickings. The pool of people in Tucson on Match is so small, there isn’t enough interest to hold events for people to meet. I’d have to go to Phoenix. That doesn’t do me any good. I have friends who met on Plenty of Fish so that is my next stop.

I was hoping to have a profound or witty introduction for my 1st blog post. Hope has been abandoned. Hello, my name is Robbye. That weird spelling? My mother did that to me. Thanks mom.

At age 52, I’ve found myself single and dating in the traditional sense for the 1st time in my life. I’m one of those women who pretty much always had a boyfriend or husband at any given time. The longest I was ever single was 6 months. 3 years ago, I left my boyfriend who was an emotionally abusive alcoholic that cost me about $10,000, $10k I didn’t have to lose. I stayed single on purpose for 2 years. During that time I had no lack of interest from men, but I really had no interest in them. 9 months ago, I finally found someone I wanted to date, and realized I was ready. And now that I’m ready to date, of course I am having a very difficult time finding available men my age in which there is mutual interest. That man I wanted to date? Turns out he isn’t relationship material. He has however remained in my life, which I will save for another post. Having been unable to find a man to date in all the places I’m told I can find one – the grocery store, out enjoying my favourite band (I like the British spelling. Don’t @ me), at the dog park – I have reluctantly entered the foray of online dating.

I’ve started with Match. I know several couples who have met on Match. Scrolling through the profiles of man after man after man: Nope .… nope .… aw hell no .… seriously?…. Hmmm, he looks interesting, I’ll express an interest in him (you can do the equivalent of “like” or “hello” or send a message to show interest)..… nope ..… nope ..… and so on. Maybe 1 out of 10 I find I want to talk to. That doesn’t mean any of them will express an interest back. Of those who have so far, some obviously didn’t read my profile because it expressly says if they are a current, avid MAGA hat wearing trump supporter, they need to move on to the next profile. One of them wanted to argue with me about why trump is a GOOD president (yes, “good” in all caps), another responded to my reply to his message with “sorry, trump supporter.”

Likely because I am a new person on Match, and attractive (I’ve been a solid 7 much of my life, but not gorgeous by any means) I’ve received a ton of interest. Going through the messages was pretty much the same as me going through pages and pages of profiles: nope ….. nope ..… aw hell no ..… seriously? ….. Hmmm ..… You get the idea. I’ve seen profiles of 2 men I’m acquainted with. They both lied about their height. Why would you lie about something that would be immediately obvious should you meet?

1 day into this and all I can say is “oof.” So, the search continues.