The Bear does not understand my fascination with blogging (something, by the way, I thought I would NEVER do). G-d forbid he catches me tweeting. I tell him it's kind of like his unbridled obsession with football, or with sugary breakfast cereal. "You know when you paint your belly blue and you go out there in the freezing cold and have a tailgate party at Gillette Stadium? " I explain "All that (dare I say) brotherhood and bonding over pony kegs??? Well, that feeling you get is what blogging gives me (without the hangover)."
A little hooyah for all my sisters on the "Visiting" team. Our stats might be questionable, but we are here to kick some @ss!!!!!
And we don't have to paint our bellies blue to do so!
For those of you visiting this blog for the first time, I wanted to give you a little backstory. I am a 41 year old newlywed. That might sound rather "golden aged" but I still get carded and have wonderful skin. I feel 28 on the inside when I am not pumped up on meds.
I always aspired to be a high powered career girl with many lovers and pool boys who would fan me with palm fronds. The career developed beyond my expectation, but the lovers were duds and no pool boys materialized. One day I read this ridiculous article in O Magazine where the writer suggested that if you put your INTENTIONS into the would, you would reap a bountiful harvest. She said you had to write a list of 100 things you hoped to find in a partner, to fully actualize your hope in your mind. I had nothing to loose, as I found the love-over-30's dating scene to be somewhat lackluster, so I gave it a try. I got stuck around #64 I remember, but I mustered on. I remember asking that he "had a job", "had nice hands", "was devoted to his family" and "cracked me up" among more direct and personal hopes. (These hopes might seem simple and shallow but you would be AMAZED at some of singletons out there!) Writing this list made me feel somehow empowered. But as most "life changing" resolutions go, I quickly forgot about it.
About six months later, I met this crazy guy after a string of horrid internet dates. On our second date, he insisted on cooking dinner for me in my tiny condo. I noticed his big hands. As he passed me a glass of wine, I thought about my penchant for pool boys. Was this somewhat better?
After a few dates we began sharing our history. I told him things in the hope of scaring him away, so that I could resume my independent life. I mentioned that I had pursued adoption through foster care (then on hold), and had explored being a single mother by choice (unfortunate miscarriage). Surprisingly, he did not run screaming from my life. Instead, he somehow understood and expressed his desire to one-day become the father he always wanted to have. He was a keeper.
We were married five months later.
After we were married, I stumbled on that journal of "man-traits" as I was cleaning out the office. I was surprised to see that it felt as if I was describing him! The only pitfall- the "# 72.stylish dresser" is sometimes questionable, but hey, he still ROCKS in those nylon wind pants and that shade of acid washed jean will one day come back again!
So that's our story. Fifteen months into our marriage and we have endured extensive prodding and poking (and not in the good way,) several losses and many bumps and cheers on the road to baby hood. We have also experienced countless tears and laughter. I would never want to do it with anyone else.
Write your list. Then throw it away. It probably won't bring you additional luck, but it's nice to put your hope and intention into the universe.
Wishing you joy.