Where's that cool Dating Game music when you want it?

Way back when the divorce was in the final throes, I broke down and joined Match (followed by  Zoosk).  I'm no longer on either although my profile is.  Let's just call it a teaser. I'll throw some more money at it when someone interesting comes along.  Oh, mind you there have been interesting fella's there, but I am also realistic and when I see they're wanting kids, I'm fairly certain anyone in my age range is looking for Barbie.  Actually, I think what they are really looking for is someone in their late 30s who managed to survive motherhood and still look hot.  Yeah at 39 I did too.  At 58, not so much.  Which is why men my age date younger.  And younger women know that 15 year age gap might give them the payoff they want (oh c'mon...you know it's true).

I have a litany of stories to tell from online dating but today I'm going to talk simply about the profile.  Take your pick of platforms and away we go.

Both platforms (and I'm sure most) allow you to use a pseudonym although I think Match encourages you to use your real name (or a real-ish sounding one).  What I want to know is WHO EXACTLY told these guys when you make up you're nom d'amour, that you use and adverb and an adjective?  No seriously.  I wanna know and I want to have them flogged with a wet noodle.  Just scrolling through the notifications I found these (seriously...these are REAL pseudonyms):

• Gently Funny
• Creatively Tough
  
• Obviously Fierce
• Definitely Friendly
• Monstrously Genuine
• Positively Happy
• Creatively Handsome
  
• Casually Adventurous 
• Gently Caring

I mean...c'mon.  So if you want me to be the first to contact you I'm going to address you as...???  Quit trying to be cute.  It's not.

Next.  The pictures.  Most of my pics were taken post divorce and with my kids and I'm ok with that.  At least they're not at ridiculous angles or bathroom selfies.  FYI guys...there's a selfie feature* on your phone (unless you're still using a Fisher Price phone) that flips the camera so you do not have to take a pic in front of a bathroom mirror.  There's also an editing app that will allow you to crop out the fact that you're in the bathroom.  But my favorite is the pics themselves.  First.  Keep your freaking shirt on.  I know, I know...you're SUPER PROUD of your pecs and your guns but let me ask this...would you want to meet any woman shirtless in person?  What does that say about you?  Just keep your shirt on. We'll get there.  Maybe.  Next, and I'm sure I'll get a lot of flack over this one, but keep the fish out of the picture.  Our eyes go right to the fish, NOT to you and if that's your goal then DAMN, time for some self esteem building exercises.  And last...but most certainly NOT least (and you KNOW it's coming right?), the motorcycle.  Yeah...I know.  My ex had one in our pre-divorce timeline.  I think women/wives recognize the signs of a midlife crisis and typically say...well, it's either the motorcycle or the girlfriend (mine apparently didn't realize the very reluctant ok for the motorcycle was NOT an ok for the girlfriend too.  If I were to think about it, I was informed of both after the fact so he remained true to form).  So yeah, you have a motorcycle and you LOVE your motorcycle and it's now an extension of you.  Pro-tip...we don't need to see all your extensions right off the bat.(SWIDT? 😉)

And  the "my friends say I'm..."  Honestly?  I don't care what your friends say you are.  They could think you're a douche-canoe but they'll still sing your praises which doesn't really tell me anything does it?. YOU are the best person to describe you.   Yeah, sure you're friends are gonna paint you in a glowing light and yeah, you might do that too but I can figure it out soon enough and I'll want my ire directed accordingly.  

Lastly...what's with y'all and camping?  Is that a gene thing?  I've been camping...hell, I've done Boundary Waters 3 times.  And not once did I LOVE it.  I had fun (not as much fun as I would have had had we figured out how to bring powdered alcohol) but mostly because of my fellow campers (pretty sure all of our BW stories start with, "Remember when Tim...").  But I don't sleep well on hard rocky surfaces (actually, I'm fairly confident that I am a rock magnet...if there are any within 12 inches of my lower back they will work their way to the surface and make a nest directly on the spot surest to cause the most pain) , I don't do well without a regular shower and the local mosquitoes were able to start their own Bank of Carolyn, thanks to me.  But it seems like every guy on these sites loves to camp.  I will return to when my dad used to tell me his idea of camping was staying at a hotel that didn't have HBO.  Amen.

I'm sure if someone wanted to critique my profile, they could find a plethora of items to mock.  My faith. I wrestled with what level I wanted to express my faith, and I decided that was a non-negotiable so it should be included.  Just like those who put their religious status as agnostic/atheist, I'd rather know up front and swipe left then become involved and realize too late that I have set myself up for failure. So, I'm sure there are plenty of non-believers who aren't interested in a "bible thumper".  Different strokes.

And before everyone jumps on the "you're too picky" bandwagon, I'm not.  Really.  I wouldn't say no to going out with some of these men (not all...OH HELL TO THE NO not all).  I think the best way to put it is your profile shouldn't be a fishing net.  But neither should it be a coffee filter.

 *On reflection, I am going to say, unless you are a narcissist who has mastered the art of selfies (as most of the under 30 crowd have done), just don't do a selfie.  There's a whole angle thing that has to be perfected...too low and we're looking at your brains through your nostrils, too high and we can let you know the status of your implants, so just don't.  Have your kid (or a friend) do it.  Kids are best.  They've perfected pictures of themselves so they'll know how to get the best one of you.  Trust me.

Divorce Shoes

 Yup.  I said it. Outloud.

Two of my favorite people in the world went through it and I'll be honest, I didn't get it.  And I don't think anyone ever does until they're standing in the divorce shoes.  They're not your size.    They're not your style. They hurt.  You can't imagine going anywhere in them because they are NOT YOU.

But divorce is different than shoes.  Shoes you get to take off and if you REALLY want to, you can toss them.  But divorce...you don't have that option.  It's like they're the ONLY shoes that are available for you and if you want to move forward, ya gotta put them on.

So, you do.  Because you don't have a choice.  If you're smart, you find a way to break them in S-L-O-W-L-Y, when every fiber in your being tells you to run , to get as far away from where you are because being where you are hurts.  The thing is, it's not where you are that hurts.  It's the damned shoes.  It's the proverbial rock/hard place, damned if you do/damned if you don't scenario.   But standing still is not an option. 

I technically wasn't divorced when I started moving and that was probably good, given the divorce took over a year.  I decided to take my oldest daughter to northern Wisconsin for a "girls get away".  Weirdly, it was something I never considered, because any time during my marriage I attempted to do anything outside of my ex, he nixed it. (You eventually learn what this is and how to deal with what it has done to you...another post).  So we went to Madeline Island/Bayfield.  We went shopping in Bayfield where I found the prettiest wall arrangement of flowers outside of an antique store.  So I took a picture of them.  It wasn't just the colors, which were so vibrant, but it was also the texture.  The chipped brick wall, the painted peeling wooden boxes, the bright blue door frame. It wasn't one thing but all of it.

See where this is going?  We aren't one dimensional.  We have so many facets that can't be pigeon holed into one picture.  It's everything as a whole that makes us who we are.  For too long I had myself tied up in what I wasn't. I wasn't wanted. I wasn't enough.  I wasn't young. I wasn't skinny. I wasn't wealthy. I wasn't worthy.  I wasn't welcome.  The list of wasn'ts was pretty long. And I forgot that for each of those things I wasn't, I was/am something else.  I AM a great mom.  I AM a good friend.  I AM worthy of being something other than a doormat. I AM clever.  I AM resourceful.  I AM capable.  I AM courageous.  I AM adventurous.  And want to know the dirty little secret?  I always have been those things.  It just took a while to find me buried under all I was made to believe I wasn't.

I still have the divorce shoes.  Apparently, they're like a scar that you can't just slough off even though I would love to.  But as I've had to readjust my thinking so much, it shouldn't be a surprise that I've had to  with this as well.  Because sometimes...if you're honest, when you look at those shoes, ugly and painful as they are, you can see how far you've come in them and find that though the journey was exhausting, both mentally and physically, you're in a much better place. 

Here are those flowers.  They still make me smile.  Maybe you too?

Launched

Know what happens when you launch a rocket?  It's gone.  Oh, you might get pieces of it back...maybe, but it won't be the same.  I think this is what they mean when we launch our children. We prepare them for a life where they make their own decisions and reap the benefits AND the consequences.  Hopefully.

When the boy joined the ANG I got a little taste of this.  I wrote about it here.  And then when my oldest daughter moved out the year after she finished school, there it was again.  But she was local. So, again, it didn't feel "real". (to be clear, it was real, but I still get to see her...well, whenever I want)  Well, now it's reality time and it really hit.  The boy, after finishing his Masters degree in Hospital Administration has joined the USAF.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I LOVE that he has done this, this serving his country through the same branch of the military as my dad did.  And I LOVE that he has so many adventures  and opportunities in his future.  The part I don't love, is once again,  watching the glow of the tail lights.

Saturday morning, he left for 8 weeks at OTS in Alabama <here is where I comment that this poor guy has done every "training" in the dead of summer in the south:  Basic was San Antonio, Tech school was Biloxi, and now OTS is Montgomery.>  From there he goes directly to his first PCS: Charleston SC.  This is not a new chapter.  This is a new book.

We spent most of May and June getting him ready.  The movers (MOVERS!!! Not friends and family who require payment in the form of free beer and pizza...real live MOVERS) will be here early Aug to pick up his belongings and move them to SC.  He has an apartment on hold where he will make his temporary home until his girlfriend moves out next year and they figure out where exactly they want to be.

In so much of this process I have expressed my concerns only to have him let me know that he's already worked that out.  Which is my tell that he is ready.   Him wanting me to let go and my willingness to do so are mutually exclusive, however much I try and kid myself that they are not.  BUT, knowing that this is what we prepare them for made it a LITTLE easier.

This son of mine.  He is an amazing young man.  He helped me through probably the darkest time in my life.  He was a sounding board with so much wisdom I sometimes questioned if he was mine.(he is...we have the same head circumference).  He has so much integrity  and empathy.  I saw that in him when he was just a boy. When you think you have him figured out, he zags when you were positive he would zig and the end results always exceed what you expected. Character.  Faith.  Honor. Intelligence  Courage. Service. Determination.  He is like a walking billboard of what the military would want in their leaders. They are lucky to have him.

So, Saturday morning after packing everything he needed for OTS in his truck and plotting his course, he said good-bye.  as we hugged, he said he hoped he could make me proud.  THAT, my sweet child, you have already done.  It has no bounds.