relationships
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Acronym for love

There's this fellow I know who has proffered up some opinions about the on-line dating experience that I would like to share.

First, he said, "time after time we go through the pages and pages of smiling humans, some so seemingly happy it makes us want to weep for our own lost dream of The Land of Later Years Bliss."

Ouch, I thought. Is he right?

Digging deeper into his psyche about his on-line experience, I learned that he has developed an acronym to describe how he experiences the mating game. It's called PCM. Not standing for Personal Computer Magazine or Please Call Me, two wild stabs I made attempting to figure out what he was talking about, "no" said he, "Perfect Conceptual Mate." And he's right. Those of us doing the on-line thing do it.

Here's what happens. There is the initial contact,  the emails, the phone chats, the going back to read and reread the  profile, the date is made, where to go, what to wear, hearts beat and pulses quicken, the encounter occurs and then…oh dear, oh my, oh shit. The PCM that was conjured up, didn't show up.

"And thus," he said, "explains why the just wait and see is my new mantra." He continued saying "it's not likely that I will get excited again about the prospect of meeting, for the first time, a lovely intelligent, available woman that I've evaluated and processed and maximized through an on-line dating meeting-place thingy. And, I think that's a good thing. It's more realistic, and I'm not as likely to get caught in one of those whirlwind romances; intense and exciting and memorable as they can be…short-lived is more likely the result."

Ouch, again, I thought. Such temperance. Dreams of the Land of Later Years Bliss going up in smoke.

So I suggested to him a new acronym.  "Let's set your sights a tad more realistically" I said. "How's this" I suggested, "to keep hope alive?  PPPPPPCM."

Perhaps, Perhaps, Potentially, Promising, Palatable, Perfect Conceptual Mate. 

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6 loathsome words

And they aren't "have you put on some weight?" 

It's the dreaded post retirement question:
 "What do you do all day?"

It's delivered as a "wow, lucky you, wish I could do that. It would be great to have ALL that FREE time."
I hear that statement and think they are really asking, "how does it feel to be a slug?"

I found that saying "seeing friends, seeing movies, going to museums, playing, hopping, skipping and jumping" is met with a wan smile, a nod and not much more than that.

So I switched to saying "I am sculpting."  Now this, it appears, elicits nods of encouragement, wistful statements about this being their fantasy. "Precisely what I'd do with my time," they say.  Why, I actually think I see some admiration in their eyes. Whether I am working in clay, marble or playdoh, doesn't come up.  I, sensibly, don't see the percentages in offering up any specifics. 

I might switch, sometime soon, from saying I am sculpting to I'm painting or perhaps pursuing photography. Same cachet, I think. 

Making art seems to be the arbiter of being interesting. Looking at it doesn't.

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Horridscopes

“What’s your sign?”

Crystal ball reader I cringe when that question is asked. But, I dutifully answer. “Capricorn” I say. Then I wait, prepared for the ensuing download of what that might mean. And it comes. “Oh”, they say,”that explains why you are”….smart, funny, angry, moody, anxious, neurotic, whatever.  “Yup,” say I, “that describes me.” I smile dutifully at the information about why I am, who I am, what I am, all based upon moons and stars and other planets that were in a certain alignment the very second of the day and year  I was born.

 

So how come, the minute I see my written horoscope (newspaper, magazine, bubble gum wrapper, or fortune cookie) I immediately read it.

 

Not only do I read it, but I am slightly depressed if it doesn’t portend well for me.  Make that very depressed. Alternatively, if it predicts anything positive, optimistic, or exciting, I am definitively elated.

 

Yeah, I say, smiling. That’s exactly spot on. That’s me.

 

Go figure.
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not walden pond, nor golden pond, cohousing pond??

Cohousing?

Remember the hippie communes that proliferated in the 60's?

My vague vague recollection, it was the 60's after all, was that a group of people cohabited in one large house, sharing cooking, cleaning, and in same cases, it has been said, each other.

Cohousing, it appears, has some of the same ideology of the  hippie communal life with a few variations that have made it attractive to many, including Boomers. The distinction is that each family or individual has their own fully functional home. Within the community there are separate facilities for communal cooking and dining as well as other communal activities.  This NY Times article "raising the roof" gives a tad more information.

I like it.

While there is a tiny bit of me that thinks this feels suspiciously like a precursor to assisted living,  if we subscribe to the "its not the destination but the journey" adage, it seems that it is a really cool concept.

Thoughts?

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Fiscally responsible

Well, those are two words that I have not used to describe how I go about making my decisions for sometime now. Down, up, up, down, I mean really.

Combine those two words,  fiscally responsible, with these words…unprecendented times and tell me if you can figure out what you are supposed to be doing right about now.

How to maintain some control?

Here's a thought. Go on a high calorie, high fat, really unhealthy diet. As you watch the numbers on the scale go up you can take comfort in the absolute cause/effect, and your ability to control something in these really uncertain times.

Works for me.

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Rejuva-Sheet

If Daisy, Benjamin Button's life time love, had only known that she, too, could go to sleep old and wake up younger, she and Benjamin may have had a different end to their love story.

It's all in the bedding it seems. The comforter, pillow and sheets are the panacea for aging. At least, that's what the latest industry claims are, well, claiming.

It appears that seaweed mattress ticking rejuvenates skin. Aloe vera pillow covers and blankets soothe skin and moisturize. Cooper injected pillowcases reduce the appearance of facial wrinkles, amongst other claims.  Skin Deep: When My Wrinkles Hit The Pillow…

There wasn't any mention of what happens upon laundering your sheets, pillowcases, and comforters. A minor concern on my part, I suppose, but I'd hate to think that I coughed up as much as 250$ for a few days worth of benefits.

But back to Benjamin and Daisy…

Had she only known that there was a better choice for them. They could have entered the twilight of their lives together, each becoming younger and younger, smoother and suppler, cooing and drooling and swathed in diapers.

There seems to be an irony here. Agree?

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Does spelling count?

A recurring theme for me will be this "does spelling count."

In the on line personals you get lots of stories that are varied and interesting and compelling.
Then you get to read ones that leave you baffled and chuckling.

These are absolutely unedited. Precisely as they were written… I couldn't make it up.

"I am a gentle humble guy who sees treating a woman right has a duty, obligation and hobby."

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Have You Met Houdini?

I'm sure you've met this guy.

Here's what happens. He's gazed at your profile, wrote you a lovely note, you responded and then…

He writes again, you answer, numbers are exchanged, calls are made.
The laughs are easy and frequent, the overlaps of interests, ethics, dreams and schemes unparalleled and the enthusiasm builds. "I'll call you, write you, text you as to where and when we should have our first (and hopefully) last date," he says.

This is apparently when the chains, trunks and water tanks must arrive.  For,
inexplicably, eerily and mind bogglingly, nary a future word. Poof, gone.

So the only logical explanation has to be that they, alas, failed to wiggle
their way from the confines of their shackles, are still picking the lock, or have moved from this trunk into, yet, another box of some sort.

Perhaps, he will resurface, flush with the experience and ready with the explanations of why the disappearance.

More likely, not.

So, with a giggle and a shrug it's back to the online search.

In the meanwhile, wondering if someday when purchasing that container of milk I will see his smiling face on the side of the carton.

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Seeing Dr. Makeyoulookyounger

How adept are you at placing your left pointer finger along side your left temple, your right pointer finger along side your right temple, simultaneously placing your thumbs along your jaw line and then, with an oh Facelift joke so gentle tug, pull your face up and back, immediately taking ten years off your current age?

I am, in this manuever, undoubtedly an Olympian, a good medal winner. I score a perfect ten.

Except, I’ve learned that I need to flex my biceps as I do this. Much to my horror, as I lift my arms to effect this pose it appears that my underarms have taken on a life of their own.

Maybe, I thought, it’s time to go to see someone. Chat about how, what, how much, how soon. A phone call or two later I was off to see Dr. Makeyoulookyounger.

Our conversation proceeded something like this.

“My eyes” I said in response to his query as to what brought me to his office. “And, what else?” he said. Hmm, not quite the response I wanted, I thought. “Well, maybe a little work around the jowls but, I am fearful I won’t look like me” I sheepishly added.

“Get over yourself” he snorted. “Do you think that Helen Mirren doesn’t look like herself?”
“You did Helen’s face?” I asked, hopefully. “No” he said.

Alrighty then, I thought. He just did an exceptional endorsement for Helen Mirren’s doctor, or took a wild stab that someone I could possibly admire would motivate me to proceed.

“Let me rethink this” I said to him, gathering up my things.

If I was going to model my decision on a British actress, I thought, perhaps Dame Judi Dench is the role model  in all her dignified, jowly, lived in face, splendor.

That works for me. For now that is…..

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Starching out the Wrinkles

Do you have any idea how many skin care products are on the market?

Collagen Infused. Cream for the Day. Cream for the Night. While indoors during the day when you are near a window and there is partial sun (okay, I made that one up). Additionally there are creams for deep wrinkles, lip reforming, below the cheek, above the brow, for your neck, cheek and jowls.

How to choose? What to buy? Do they work?

As I wandered around the aisles of my local CVS (after checking out the line up at the pharmacists window) see Infidelity on the upswing?,  I realized that there was an additional option for the goal of flawlessly smooth skin.

When I was a kid I spent a lot of time in our kitchen watching my Mom haul in the laundry. It was hung on a  clothesline that draped across the courtyard of our building, from the A side to the B side.

I watched in fascination as she wet down the almost dry garments, rolled them into a cylindrical shape and put them into the refrigerator. After a time that she deemed appropriate, she removed one item at a time, placed it on the ironing board and smoothed it with her hands, reshaping it. Then a can of Niagra spray starch appeared.

Furiously spraying away, certain that she had sufficiently anointed the item, she tested the iron with the tip of her moistened finger, the iron sizzled and she then ironed until not a crease, wrinkle or buckling of fabric existed. Smooth as a baby's proverbial…..

Why not? I thought. If the Niagra folk could make the product a tad less sticky, with a better aroma, it could be repackaged, repositioned and serve a dual purpose.

Think about it.

Wet your face, position yourself in front of the air conditioner, fan or opened freezer door, spray, smooth and you are ready to get on with your day.

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