Post-script

I guess it's true what they say. Right when you stop looking for love -- or at least the beginnings of a relationship -- it finds you.

I'm now happy to say that one of the three guys mentioned in my last post is boyfriend, and has been for the past two or three weeks. It's the first healthy relationship of my life, and I look forward to seeing where it goes.

And last but not least, I'm no longer a virgin. Hallelujah.

* Signs that you are in a healthy relationship.

In closing I would like to say...

To all my wonderful readers (aka my personal friends):

With the sleep apnea diagnosis and my use of the CPAP machine, I no longer consider myself disabled. I've retrained my body to be able to walk on a treadmill and drive, I'm back to being able to read for school every day, and I've just landed two freelance jobs.

Because of all these other commitments, I'm going to step down from this blog for the foreseeable future. I leave you with the following fun facts:

1) I have plans to meet with Middle Eastern "S" on Sunday -- a 26-year-old recent immigrant student looking for a road trip buddy,

2) I've been emailing back and forth with Pacific Islander "R" -- a hard-working painter, musician, writer who is recovering from war injuries,

3) And I'm planning to ask my white massage therapist "C," who will be biking from Alaska to Argentina, if he wants to join me for tango lessons (with my new and improved, functional body!).

I end this blog with some questions answered. I now know that men chomp at the bit to devirginize a woman no matter how old she is. I know, through my roommate's successful relationship that blossomed through OkCupid, that sometimes men just aren't very photogenic and if there's any inkling that they might look better in person than on the computer screen, I should give them a chance. Lastly, I learned that right when you think your health won't improve... Bam!... you get an answer.

So, lovely readers, don't give up on yourself and don't give up on love. Laugh at those first dates that don't work out, don't try to change an elusive man, and it's okay to cry over things that don't work out, as long as you dry your tears and get back up, fighting.

Whether or not to become a Kept Woman

Last night on OkCupid I got propositioned by an attractive 32-year-old man to be a "kept woman." It took me a few hours to realize that this was what he was after. One of his first questions was whether or not I had anything against dating an Arab, and since he's my age and working in the next town over, I assured him that the person was more important than the nationality. And it's true. I have nothing against Arab men whatsoever. But throughout our conversation he made it clear that to date an Arab meant I was to do certain things for him and to get certain things in return. Whether or not this is true for the entire Arab population in America is highly suspect, but for him, at least as a new resident, falling in love is not part of his equation.

Some women would have no problem with his proposition, and I'm sure he won't be hard pressed to find a woman who is flattered that he wants to buy her sexy clothes of his choosing, sexy underwear to wear for him, take her on extravagant outings, pay her expenses, have her move in almost immediately, get married in a matter of months, and settle it all even before the first meeting. I've seen enough Real Housewives episodes and seen enough celebrity couples to know that these kinds of deals are often made. Donald Trump said something to the affect of: "No, I don't mind that my wife married me for my money. I married her for her looks."

But for most of us, we see love and marriage not as a bartering exchange but as something that happens organically. In our world, a date is made because of a mutual connection. A second date is made because that connection was deepened. Physical intimacy and economic compatibility are important, yes, but cannot be the basis of our relationships and cannot be the only ingredient in whether or not they are a success. I suppose if a man wanted to marry a woman simply to "keep" her as a commodity, falling out of love would not be an issue because falling in love would a nice side benefit to an already done deal.

I can't help but think of Carrie Bradshaw and Aleksandr Petrovsky of Sex and the City. "The Russian" showered here with clothes, fancy accommodations, and treated her like a princess. While I'm disturbed that the writers had Carrie refer to her boyfriend by his nationality instead of his name, and had the character himself fill a cultural stereotype, in the end Carrie needed a man who saw her as an equal, not a trophy: "I'm looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love. And I don't think that love is here in this expensive suite in this lovely hotel in Paris." I'd rather keep living off food stamps than giving my body away for material security. A true artist finds her own success and wears whatever she damn well pleases.

The One Who Got Away

The one love of my life got married two months ago. How I came to find out, just now, is a funny (read heart-wrenching) story.

I'm home alone after M stood me up and my roommate is out with her new boyfriend. I decided take a break from my Netflix streaming marathon of The Secret Life of the American Teenager after the protagonist got married. One more episode about a bunch of teenagers deciding whether or not to have sex was going to be too depressing to my 34-year-old virgin self, so I decieded to switch to something a little more adult. I started Season 1, Episode 1, of Ally McBeal, which has been sitting dormant in my queue forever. I'd seen a couple episodes here and there in the past but I just wasn't ready to commit. Tonight, however seemed like just the right time as I'm mature, alone, and working on my career. I assumed (correctly) that Ally and I would have a lot in common.

For those of you who have never seen the show, it opens with Ally starting work at the same firm has her childhood / high school / college sweetheart whom she hadn't seen in years and who is now married. Her one true love, her "man that got away," is now staring her in the face, never having given her a good reason for their breakup. I paused the episode in the middle as I often do (I have a bit of ADD when it comes to TV) and found myself at my computer. I clicked on my inbox to find an email from American Greetings reminding me about T's upcoming birthday -- my own "one who got away."

T is one of the few men who steer clear of computers to such a degree that he typed all his poetry for class on an old manual typewriter, so when I google him I never find much. Every once in awhile I will see something related to his graduate school studies on Latin American Language and Literature, but other than that a search brings up almost nothing. Today, however, the online register of his grad school city lists him and a woman under "marriage licenses." Middle initial: check. Age: check. There is no question that this is my lost love.

Now, I don't believe in god or fate but I do believe in something writing my life story -- everyone's life stories. And today that author threw me a curve ball. How else in the world could these four things connect: 1) TV show with a wedding, 2) TV show about a lost love getting married, 3) a birthday reminder about my lost love, 4) the registry of his marriage license from just two months ago. It's been almost exactly five years to the day since I have seen T (another un-funny joke by my unknown author, I'm sure) and I still have not gotten over him. Intellectually, friendship-ly, and physically, he has remained at the solid top of my straight man connections.

Five years later I sit here being stood up in the same manner in which he used to do, by someone I don't like half as much, or at least haven't been able to get to know well enough to know for sure. Ally's voice-over claims that being a lawyer was secondary to loving Billy. She went to law school because he did. She became a lawyer by default. Her entire career is based on trying to have kept a man. Now, I didn't go to college because of boy chasing, in fact, I got divorced in order to go back to school. And I'm certainly not a writer because of chasing after a boy either. But I've often wondered how many of us professional women are what we are because we have loved and lost -- and namely the latter. In fact, Ally McBeal was such a big hit namely because us women can all identify, to varying degrees, with making life decisions based on an emotional quest.

In a way the 21st century woman has the world open to her. She can choose what roles she wants to take on, whether it be work and family, just work, or just family. But in the end I can't help noticing that we all feel a bit guilty for whatever we choose, and we are always left feeling a bit dissatisfied... a bit lost. I can't help but feel that women are currently under an intense microscope of conflicting definitions. Ally followed Billy to law school in order to keep the man she loved. I went to graduate school because the love of my life didn't want a relationship. I can't help but feel grateful that I was given the chance to pursue my dreams because of being rejected, but at the same time, like any 21st century woman, I want it all.

Episode 1 ends with the following voice over:

"The truth is, I probably don't want to be too happy or content, 'cause then what? I actually like the quest, the search. That's the fun. The more lost you are, the more you have to look forward to. What do you know? I'm having a great time and I don't even know it." - Ally

Hold on a Minute

Today I had a date with M. Yesterday we spent hours rehashing Friday's conversation, and he realized I don't think he's the crazy nut job he was afraid I thought him to be. Or maybe we are both nutty together? Though when I sat across from him today at the quaint coffee shop down the street, he stated, regarding both of our "things that cannot be talked about": "I'm realizing that I can move on from those hurtful things. They don't have to define me. Good things can be in my future. In both our futures." Well, maybe that's not what he said word for word, but you get the idea.

We held hands as we walked back to his car, and I both wanted to squeeze tighter and let go and run the other way. We kissed next to his car and I both wanted to kiss longer and, well, run the other way. It helps me understand my roommate who just got a boyfriend from her own OkCupid connection. She has similar self-quenched desires of fear-induced "flight" from something not bad but very, very good. There are those you date who make you feel uncomfortable because they aren't right for you, and there are those you make you comfortable because you never get below the surface. Then there are those you make you uncomfortable because they see the real you, and that's a scary but wonderful thing, when the real you is appreciated and accepted exactly as it is. M's acceptance even includes my sleep apnea, my lack of a job, and my welfare status -- all things that scared me most about dating with a disability. "Things things happen," he says. "I'm sure you'll be back on your feet in no time."

This thing with M might be a totally healthy relationship. Or it might, despite friends' reassurances to the contrary, be a totally unhealthy relationship. Or it might not be a relationship at all. But he gets me. The real me. And I get the real him too. Our things that cannot be talked about can be talked about with each other... Not just talked about, but understood. I don't want to jump ahead of myself and say this date was anything more than what it was -- two individuals coming together for a nice afternoon of conversation and connection. I'm trying not to look too far into the future these days but appreciate each moment for what it is. Today was a good moment, and he's already asked for another. I said yes, and with him or with someone else, I know there will be even more.