January 23, 2022
I often ask myself what I want to do with the rest of my life. I am 71, in relatively good health, in relatively good spirits, and still in possession of my longstanding sarcasm and snark – thank God. It has held me in good stead throughout my life both in happy times and devastatingly sad times. I guess it’s part of my “charm.” At least that’s what some people tell me. Those of you who read my blog know that I meander between happy and carefree offerings to some reflective and morose stuff that can make you sad, to some seriously deranged offerings that border on offensive. I make no apologies. Don’t like it? Don’t read it. Obviously, our sense of humor isn’t of the same genre. Anyway, here I am attempting to crank out yet another offering of purple prose. Honestly, sometimes it’s a chore, because I feel as if I have nothing worthwhile to say and I ask myself, “does anyone really care.” Then, my friend, BB, smacks me back to reality. Apparently, SHE cares. She will call or text and tell me “Chop, chop, girlfriend! Get a move on! I and your minions are waiting!” Sigh. I will do my best, for I am truly not feeling it my people.
So, allow me to provide you with a little personal update on my so called heretofore non-existent love life. In previous blogs I have shared the pathetic stories of dates, potential dates, and online candidates of so-called perfect matches of men with questionable hygiene, missing teeth, possible arrest records and proclivities that would make a sane individual carry mace and a firearm. You get the picture. I was beginning to question everything about myself. Was I THAT grotesque that only trolls and mythical hobgoblins found me attractive? I USED to be cute. I USED to have my share of dates back in the day. I was married to my husband for 41 years and he was just adorable and understood my crazy sense of humor and it was balanced beautifully by his quiet, dry humor and slow to deliver but perfectly delivered witty comebacks. Sometimes when I was “on” he would just roll his eyes and chuckle. He just “got” me. Once I meandered through the grief process after he died in 2015 and at my daughters’ urging, I decided to dip my toe into the dating pond, I figured how hard could it be to find someone similar to my F? He was special I know. But there had to be others like him, right? How naïve could I be? Nothing but freaks I tell you. And be sure to throw in the occasional asshole. Lots of assholes in the mix just to make it interesting. So, after enduring my fair share of truly horrible encounters, I decided to just stop and enjoy life on my own. I had my dog, my widowed group friends and my Rotary club friends, and the other assorted friends I met along the way. And this is all in my new home state where I moved after more than sixty years living elsewhere. After F died, not only did I suffer the devastating loss of my life partner, a few years later, I picked up roots and moved south to where I knew NO ONE save my children. Let me tell you, a move like that is not for the faint of heart—even for someone like me who usually makes friends easily. I was scared to death. But here I am almost three years later and I am doing OK and I have my dog, and I am alone, and I have sworn off dating. I am single and content. Life is pretty good.
WAIT!!!! Hold that thought!!!! Things have changed ladies and gentlemen! And I know my friend B’s ears and eyes are at attention! Drum roll please!!!!!! This girl, yes this girl, ME…..this girl has a boyfriend!!!! Yes sir! A real live, honest to goodness, flesh and blood boyfriend. I didn’t find him on the internet either. We met the old-fashioned way. He seems to understand my weirdness, appreciates it even. Gets my snark and sarcasm; he better because he wouldn’t be worthy of calling himself my boyfriend. By the way, I call him D. He says I am beautiful; either he needs a complete eye examination or he’s just full of shit. He believes I am super intelligent. Well, he did graduate from Duke, so obviously he knows what he’s talking about. And he says I make him happy. And for this final statement, I have no plans to make any sarcastic comment. I will simply say that I plan to do my best to continue to make him happy as long as I can. Because he is simply one of the kindest sweetest people I have ever met – a lot like my husband, F. It’s probably what attracted me to him. But, and it’s a big but…here’s the rub. And here’s where those of you who have been following me from the beginning are going to lose your minds and say “are you effing kidding me? Does the widow EVER catch a break? It’s kind of why I named this blog The Circle of Life. I am not a saint. So many people have experienced so much more upheaval and sadness in their lives, but I do think I have had more than my fair share and I am ready to say ENOUGH already, OK, God? I have lost my parents, two brothers before their time, my husband, and undeniably THE WORST DAY of my life, the death of my grandson, Joshua. I will never recover from that sadness. It is a sadness that leaves a mark on your heart. The only good that came out of it is that it made me want to be a better person and it brought us our sweet angel, my granddaughter, A, through adoption. Anyway, my point is, I am tired of being sad and looking forward to being happy. Meeting D has made me happy and he tells me constantly how happy I make him. But I kind of hinted above that the other shoe is about to drop. Get ready folks. Here goes.
D has terminal cancer, less than a year to live. I am not kidding. Seriously. It’s like a Lifetime Movie. I want to throw up. I finally meet someone who isn’t an asshole (well he’s a dude, so there’s always that potential) and the big C screws everything up. The thing is D is in a great place. No more treatment for him. He wants to live life, enjoy life and take what time he has left and just appreciate what he has. I so admire that approach. So many people whining about wearing masks and this guy has it right. He really is stopping to smell the roses — and my perfume. And he is focusing on me and telling me how beautiful, funny, and intelligent I am. I think he just wants to get me into the sack. Men! Terminal illness or not, some things never change. Maybe I’ll oblige. You know I’ll rock his world! D, you have taught me so much in our short time together. Let’s get this party started. It’s an honor to know you, D, my sweet, kind, funny boyfriend. And if the big C wins, I hope you and F become fast friends up there and enjoy a laugh at my expense.