From Music to 90210 to Reward

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I spend a lot of time in the car, flipping channels, listening to songs that invariably trigger memories.  The 80’s station takes me back to high school, of course:  ‘My Perogative’ and 'What I Am' tie me to Dominic and 'Straight Up' is all Chris.   

Of COURSE I didn't do this...

 The country station moves me into my 20s where my life post-husband-#1 was dotted with  suitors and girlfriends. And it’s funny how current songs – Taylor Swift’s ‘Trouble' and Pink’s 'Try' for example– can conjure up memories of past lust just with their lyrics ... even decades later.

Right now, I’m thinking of Brenda on her bed listening to 'Losing My Religion' over and over (and over) when Dylan dumped her.

Obviously, in better times...

(super special Jen side note:  for a list of the top 20 TV couples compiled by someone who has a lot of time on their hands, click here:  http://www.aoltv.com/2008/02/11/best-tv-couples/  I want a guy called Big.)

If she were a real person, Brenda’s my age now.  And she’s probably looking back at her time with Dylan as just one of the millions of whiny tears that she cried over the dude.

I’ve been me for 2164 weeks.  (Yeah, I counted.  Sue me.  It's to make a very valid point.)  A former 12-week relationship equals a mere .0055 of all my weeks on earth.  Date for three weeks?  That’s an insignificant .0023.

But what if the significance isn’t tied to the AMOUNT of time but to the lesson learned?  As any college student who's cramming for a final knows, we can learn a lesson in an hour let alone three weeks.  Think to what you took out of the encounter.  Was it just a couple of one-nighters?  Well, were you at least toe-curling, spine-tingling satisfied?  Maybe it was more.  Did it add a spring in your step?  A gleam in your eye?  A peacefulness to your aura? Did you start wearing heels or showing more boobage? 

And that’s where I was yesterday, in the car flipping buttons, when I thought I was missing a long ago HIM.

It wasn’t HIM I was missing.  There was so much aggravation, so much delicious turmoil in my life when he was around that it almost (ALMOST) counteracted my reward.  Ahh, Bingo!  Reward.  THAT’S what I was missing.  The flush to my cheeks…the hitch in my breath…the ridiculous smile on my lips.  Sure, he was the catalyst, the ignition for all this…but, I LET him. 

I went on faith

I was courageous.

I was outrageous.

My reward. 

As always, Confucius says it best:

A V-Day Informal Poll

While I was getting redressed after my workout today, I found myself sliding my thigh high nylons up my leg.  This is rare - it's winter and that equates wearing tights or leggings on the odd day that I wear a dress or skirt.  But today I wanted to feel dressed up.  No reason.  I'm a girl - that should be reason enough!

Not me.

So back to getting dressed.

I think to myself, "Self, if we had a significant other and he liked to watch us roll our hosiery up and down our legs, would we do that for him on a consistent basis?"  And I answered, "If it was something that turned him on, which led to ME getting a little lovin', I say an emphatic HELL YES!"  (In case you needed to hear another reason, this is why I need to find a dude...I am TALKING TO MYSELF AND ANSWERING!)

Which led me down this path: "Since this is the 'Week of Love' - even though I am a non-participant and have been for the past 15 years, but I digress -  I should ask my friends what simple thing THEIR partner does that just drives them nuts. In a GOOD way nuts.'

So I'm askin'.

Is it watching your partner clean:

Watching her brush her hair:

Watching him play guitar:

Or watching her do whatever ridiculous yoga position this is:

What little thing does he or she do that makes the world slow down, your breath catch and all of your blood rush to your fun parts?

Share, por favor!

Rated PG13 Chiropractics

• When the Facebook conversation ends like this, you have to wonder what's going on:
  

  
  DOC:

  95 degree hamstring stretch is all yours!!

  ME:

  I'm just coming for the pain!!

  
  And it's the type of pain that's like childbirth...after time, the memory of how bad it is fades away, so you come back for more.  Because there's something oddly pleasurable about it.  Childbirth, you have a child.  Doc's massages...uh, well.  Gee.  Oh, you hear that big crack!  
  
  Which is how I found myself on the chiropractor's table this evening.
• 

  
  

  
  

  I've talked about the doc before is Weight of the World and Boundaries.  Luckily, I failed to reread my own work before heading to his office.  Because I was in for a world of hurt (and a carton of cigs, if I still smoked).

  
  At the end of my former PT sessions with the doc, I was able to flex my right leg 225 degrees.  Or something close to that.  So, I KNEW that he was going to test me to see how my job as a carnival contortionist was treated me.  Ha.  "Well, here's 45 degrees..."  
  
  

  

  
  Guess I can't put that on my dating resume anymore.  He wasn't happy, so my leg got 'gently maneuvered' to at least a 90 degree angle.  (maybe I can put it back ON the resume?)
  
  Pain.  Just the beginning.
  
  The doc and I like to keep up a steady stream of conversation.  Something like this:  So get me up to date on that one (me: groannnnnn) guy?  still seeing him (me:  oyyyyyy)?  Really, you did that?  How did that make you (me:  Oh My God) feel?  I can see that you're still harboring (me: shiiiittttttt) guilt.  So you're going to do (me: growwwwwl) what?  Damn, that sounds like it was a great (me:  purrrrrrr) time!
  
  Did I mention this is like a therapy session as well?  And that he has the memory of a elephant?
  
  (I just cracked my pelvic bones by flexing them while writing this.  BONUS)
  
  And then. THE GOOD STUFF.  I get to turn over on my back.  And the doc sticks his fingers in...my neck meat.  AHHH.  He told me that was from Napoleon Dynamite.  Neck Meat.  
  
  Seriously. I learned tonight that one of my favorite (non erotic) body parts still needs MAJOR attention.  The  suboccipitals is the neck muscle at the back of the head.  When you and I become more familiar, don't be concerned if your fingers are digging in there more than anywhere else.  For. Hours.
  
  And the evening concluded with this last thought from the doc, "...let alone your special place for 25 minutes probing your...tightness.  You were very tight."
  
  Porn Star Chiropractic.  Coming to Showtime soon.
  
  
  

  

  If she were at Doc's she wouldn't be smiling...
  
  
  

Online Dating, Ghostwriters, Confession and Liz Lemon

I've toyed with the idea of online dating but inherently know that I'll never give it the fair shake that it would deserve...too many conflicts, too easy to talk myself out of...it'd be wasted money.  In conversation with one of my friends today, he decided that he was going to take me on as a 'client' and find me 'what I was looking for.'  Oh boy.  Shemar Moore.  Find me Shemar Moore.

Why am I writing?  Isn't there a "Criminal Minds" episode on??!!

He would vet potential potentials for me, filtering the riff and the raff that could clog up one's psyche.

Okay, I'm game.  It beats Speed Dating (thought about because I seriously thought I'd be doing the collection of 'eligible men' a favor by only having to be exposed to me for a minute or two. Nice anti-dating attitude, Marr)

My sons have taught me well.

So he asked me a few really basic questions...how young was too young, how old was too old... and put together this funny/serious singles ad for me  (mind you, not ALL the info is correct.  some of the 'stats' are wrong.  I don't weight 138, I'm not a 34D, my kids aren't ages 20, 9 and 7...And some of the other stuff was pure conjecture on his part - sophisticated?  Never.  Laid-back?  Probably not.  Stunning?  Cute on a good day  The 'necessities' are all his too.  Well, frankly, it WASN'T written by me!!).

My Ghostwritten Singles Ad:

Seeking: Thought-provoking male between 33-43 interested in a fun, intellectually stimulating relationship with sophisticated yet laid-back, stunning 41 year old female. Prefer someone with life experience, who is low maintenance but full of energy and spunk.

Goal: A long-term, stress-free relationship without having to spend countless hours withering away in the bar scene.

Stats: Numbers aren’t important, are they? OK, maybe to some. So… I’m tall (5-9), but that doesn’t mean I played volleyball in college, 138, 34 (d), and great legs. I have 3 kids, from 2 marriages, and my children are my life. They are 20, 9 and 7 (guessing here).

Necessities: You must be educated, funny, at least my height, knowledgeable about college basketball and music, and flexible (not just of the bendy variety). You must not be shorter than me, living at home with your parents, 36 missing teeth, in possession of stalker traits, owner of a police record or just hoping to get laid.

Summary: I spend a lot of time working – probably too much, actually. I need to make time for me. I want to not only find that time, but find someone terrific to spend it with. Not seeking to get married or find someone to take care of me/my kids. I need someone who can make me laugh, challenge my mind and stimulate me physically. If you don’t consider yourself an A-plus kisser, move on. And if you do, but I grade you differently, buh bye. Life’s too short to not find a compatible soul to share it with - on multiple levels.

To be honest, I was stunned.  There was a lot there that WAS on the money.  I shared it with a few close friends, friends I've BEGGED to help me, and they nodded their heads in agreement with my ghostwriter. Way to go, guys.  Thanks for the help

Made him change the police record thing.  Wouldn't want to be hypocritical!

****

Reading a new book by a new author, speaking of writing.  This one is called "How I Came to Sparkle Again," by Kaya McLaren.  Already some great lessons but I love this passage:

"She hadn't gone to confession in years, but suddenly she believed it might feel good.  She thought about what she would say and realized it wasn't the actual sex she felt was the great sin.  It was the fact that she had lost faith.  She had lost faith that God had a better plan for her when it came to love, and as a result, she had settled. She needed to repent for treating her body as if it were a cheap motel instead of a temple."

And then, to close with something from Liz Lemon:  “I want someone who will be monogamous and nice to his mother. And I want someone who likes musicals, but knows to just shut his mouth when I’m watching “Lost.” And I want someone who thinks being really into cars is lame, and strip clubs are gross. I want someone who will actually empty the dishwasher instead of just taking out forks as needed – like I do. I want someone with clean hands and feet and beefy forearms, like a damned Disney prince. And I want him to genuinely like me. Even when I’m old. And that’s what I want.” —Lee Marvin vs. Derek Jeter (4.17)

Thank you, Liz Lemon.  Thank you.  You give all of us single women (who are hopeless) hope.