Confused Woman!

Recently, my husband and I decided to separate.  Although it’s sad, it’s necessary and amicable and we’ll both be better off.  It will be hard on my daughter at first, but in the end I’d rather have her see two healthy parents on their own than two people miserable in a marriage.  I would never want her to think our relationship is a model for a successful and happy marriage.

That being said, I now have to do the dreaded…get back into the dating game.  Ugh.  I’d rather have several root canals than go on a date with some creep.  It’s been several years since I’ve been out there so I’m a little rusty.  So, I decided to check out match.com for the hell of it to see what’s out there…OMG.

I put my profile out there with a cute picture and within minutes I’m getting bombarded with “winks” and “likes”.  Cool, I thought, until I checked out who was winkin’ and likin’.  All scary.  Two were from Colorado and Los Angeles, which I’m guessing are scam artists so I immediately delete.  One had no photo and was from a local city with a state prison.  Gone.  The others were guys that looked like they should be in prison or could be my grandpa.  Yuck!

I’m immediately turned off and depressed.  So, this is what my dating life will be?  Full of scary, creepy perverts looking for a piece?  No thanks.  I’d rather stay home and watch reruns of the  “Real Housewives of Beverly Hills”.  Hell, I’d rather watch hours of static on TV and watch paint dry than date losers like that.

The next day, I thought I’d take another look at my profile.  I was surprised to see a couple that weren’t scary.  The guys actually seemed normal and didn’t look like they should be on death row.  They sent nice emails, nothing sick or twisted, so I thought why not just say “Hi”.  What could it hurt?  It’s not like they know my name or where I live.  It’s all very secretive…I feel like I’m on a covert dating operation.

Turns out both guys are nice and not weird.  So, I’ll keep emailing and maybe down the road chat on the phone or meet for coffee.  I’m not ever going to meet anyone shutting myself off from the outside world but I’m not going to be stupid and be an open book either.  In fact, I’m kind of liking the whole mysterious undercover thing.  I think I’ll go by Lana and sport a wig and sunglasses on the first meeting…or will I?

Thanksgiving is coming.  I’m worried about not serving salmonella-filled turkey and burning the stuffing.  Others are scouring ads, making lists, and planning their shopping adventures for Black Friday (and Thanksgiving now for many retailers).  Are you kidding me?  What’s wrong with these people?

The last thing I want to do after a large meal and many glasses of wine is sleep for two hours then get up and head out the door.  I’m in Minnesota so the weather is going to be freezing.  So, these crazy folks are going to stand in line, shivering, waiting for the doors to open and to be trampled to death by fellow lunatics.

I get it, you want to save money.  I do too.  That’s why I shop on the internet on Cyber Monday.  I can sit inside where it’s all toasty warm and click away while not being shoved and mauled by others.  Sweet.  My opinion is it’s actually more about the competition and the adventure of finding the bargains than actually saving money.  The ability to dash someone’s dreams as you snatch away the last toy…priceless.

I have no patience.  The thought of being pushed and elbowed by people and having bloody heels from shopping carts ramming into me is enough to keep me out of the stores until after Christmas.  I would have no choice but to go ballistic on someone and end up on the evening news.  Not exactly a good role model for my young daughter.

So, to all you crazy ladies out there, good luck and happy shopping.  Hope you arrive home unscathed.  I’ll be home sleeping, with my wallet and sanity intact.

I have several friends who are either getting divorced or are divorced.  We regularly have venting sessions about their dating horrors which brings me back to the time when I was a flight attendant.  I was single at the time and I could not believe the number of pilots and passengers, married and unmarried, who would hit on me.

The male passengers who were quite friendly were usually between  the ages of 30-70.  They were almost always consuming alcohol and thought they were the cat’s meow.  Some of them weren’t actually too bad but some clearly were not going to be on anyone’s Top 10 list anytime soon.  Most were either very curious, horny, or both.  The call button would be pressed several times (usually for more drinks) and questions were asked:  “What’s it like being a flight attendant?  Have you ever been in the cockpit?  What exactly do they do up there?  Can you ask the captain (usually during takeoff or landing) the score of the football game?”

The worst offenders, however, were the pilots.  I had heard stories about how flirtatious and unfaithful they were but was shocked at how true it actually was.  I would fly several routes a day and on at least one of those flights or hotel overnights I would be hit on.  On one particular trip, I went out to dinner with the pilots.  After we returned to the hotel I received a phone call from the co-pilot, who was married.  He asked if I’d like to come to his hotel room to “hang out”.  I also had another pilot who had an adjoining room who kept knocking on the door wondering if I’d like to come over to watch TV.  Uh huh, right.

Seriously, guys, what’s the deal?  It’s not like I’m Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie.  Maybe it’s the uniform?  Maybe it’s the fact I give out free pretzels?  I don’t know but whatever it was it was crazy.  The attention at first was fun but after a while grew old and then downright annoying.  I felt like a piece of meat that was being drooled over by a pack of wolves.

I now work an office job…not nearly as exciting and no drooling men, but at least I don’t have to worry about getting propositioned every 10 minutes or having a kid barf on me!

Well, Halloween is over and Thanksgiving is looming.  I know I should sound happier about it but I’m not.  Why?  Because I am hosting this year which means I have to cook.  The thought of that makes me break out into a cold sweat.

I’m not big into cooking in general.  I make meals but it’s not a labor of love…more like a necessary evil.  It doesn’t help that I have a picky child and even pickier husband to try and please which is nearly impossible.  So, I prepare something I think they might like and am lucky if one of them kindof sortof thinks it’s marginally okay.

This brings me to Thanksgiving dinner and my fear of it not only being horrible but having everyone be hungry and crabby as well.  The turkey is the worst.  It seems like it should be easy but it’s not to me.  I’m worried it won’t be cooked enough and I’ll give everyone salmonella poisoning.  The mashed potatoes, too lumpy.  The cranberry sauce, forget about it.  There’s no way that will be from scratch.  It will come from a can and be on the table with the can rings for decoration.

The only hope I have of everyone enjoying the meal is by supplying plenty of wine before and during the dinner.  I figure if they’re happy what’s the odds they won’t like what I prepare?  In fact, it may taste even better!  At least it will only be my family attending.  I would be in a constant state of panic if I had to cook for the in-laws too.

I proposed Domino’s pizza and beer for Thanksgiving and was shot down.  I thought it goes with football which will be on all day so why not?  Apparently, my family is a bunch of traditionalists and want a turkey dinner.  I say they shouldn’t complain and take what they get.   After all, it is Thanksgiving…shouldn’t they be thankful that I got my lazy butt out of bed in the first place?

Well, I did my duty as an American citizen and cast my vote.  The line was long but it was worth it to get my say.  However, it’s frustrating when it comes to the presidential vote.  Why in 2012 do we need the Electoral College?  It seems crazy to me that in this day and age we don’t use the popular vote.  We do for all other offices, so why not this one?

Maybe I’m naive or clueless or both, but it seems to me the popular vote should decide the race.  I don’t want someone else to do the deciding for me…can we add this to the voting ballot in the next election?

Why is it that I can never be happy with what I’ve accomplished?  Why must I compare myself to everyone else?  For example:  I completed my second half marathon last weekend.  I improved my time by almost 10 minutes and felt really great about it.  Then I looked at the overall results.

Suddenly, my self-esteem sank.  I looked in my age group and noticed the winner completed the race over an hour before I did.  Then, I tortured myself some more and looked at the younger age categories.  How did I compare to them?  I even looked at the 65 and over group and saw that winner finished 30 minutes before I did!

I told my friend (who ran the race with me) what I had done and she thought I was nuts.  Why would I put myself through that?  She said to look at all the people who finished after me not before me.  Makes sense.  There were 350 people who completed the race after me.  Sounded good.  Why couldn’t I be happy with that?

It seems no matter how much I tell myself I did a great job, it’s never enough.  Can I blame my type-A personality?  Can I blame my sister with whom I have always been in competition with?  Maybe it’s society and the media.  As women, we’re inundated with images of stick-thin celebrities who have a ton of money to get everything sucked and tucked.  It doesn’t help when you see a 43-year-old woman dating a ripped 25-year-old.  How many of us in our 40’s could ever get a young stud like that, let alone a decent man who’s actually employed and not psychotic?

Fact is, I’ll never be a celebrity/model or anyone else but myself.  Instead of tearing myself down I should be propping myself up and stop comparing.  It’s especially important since I have a young daughter who I don’t want to get caught in that trap.  I want her to be proud of herself and not let her self-esteem be dependent on outside influences.  The media and these images are never going to go away, so it’s up to us as parents to provide our kids with appropriate messages so they don’t go down a negative, self-destructive path like I have.