29...Again!

I love Vegas; Craps is my game and nine is my favorite number.  Before this last trip, my oncologist told me that 18 (it was August 18th) was a very lucky number in the Jewish faith.  He seemed satisfied I was ending my 18th treatment on the 18th.  So how did that change my odds in Vegas I asked him?  Since there is no 18 on the Craps table, we decided that two and nine were worth betting on, with nine paying out better than the two.  I bet on the nine again and again and again, and I won big (Hello Venetian...free room please!).  As I was betting on my nine and the two on the Field, I realized the significance of 29 (not 18) yet again. 

            I never really liked dating when I was younger, the writer in me, needs to write the ending.  My therapist keeps telling me that I should not be so concerned with how it is going to turn out, but to enjoy the ride.  If you are a writer, you most likely crave order and rules, a story without and ending is an unfinished piece of work.  That does not spell out success.

But I am trying.  After hottie McButterpants with the 29 arrests, the number 29 seemed unlucky, despite my Vegas winnings.  However, when the most beautiful Spanish man started talking to me, immediately I was drawn in forgetting that lucky/unlucky number.  The novel that I am working on for my MFA program at Antioch University, has a protagonist/antagonist (not sure which yet), who is Spanish.  I don't remember why I picked a Spanish man.  Perhaps it was because I had been Salsa dancing when I started to crafting this character, but I was obsessed with that dark, smoldering beauty.  My character Paolo has this thick, dark shiny hair the color of onyx, his eyes are such a deep amber brown that his pupils are hard to detect, and his white smile lights up his face.  He's kind and loves his family, respects his mother, cooks, has an athlete’s physique; muscular legs, toned arms - clearly my fantasy man - at the time unbeknownst to me.

I found my fascination with this new Spanish man odd.  I couldn't stop thinking about him.  Unlike my normal, independent self, I was waiting by my phone for his texts or calls.  I ditched friends to see him and when we had a date that included a trip to the park with my dog and his toddler, I was in heaven.  It was the most comfortable date, we all seemed to connect, and it felt like a family outing.

But back to the hottie right?  A week or so ago, I realized he was Paolo in my real world.  He is a little slighter that my made up character, but this real Spanish beauty has all the other features.  He is so kind, I melt like a chocolate bar in the sun, when I see him with his son.  Who of course is adorable in his own right.  He played professional soccer, so he is so athletic and his body, although thinner than Paolo's, is so toned and strong.  And that shiny black hair, there's a ton of it, peppered with just the perfect amount of gray.  His smile, lights up his whole face and when he's not smiling, he is smoldering.  I am twitterpated.

I've tried to take the backseat and let him "drive the boat," in my attempt to not write the ending and push this sweet man away.  I sort of figured he had introduced me to his son, he must be serious.  After two months of patiently waiting for him to commit, two months of him pursuing me, especially if I ignored him, I get the, "I'm not sure if I am ready for a relationship."  He went on to tell me that he knows he needs to settle down and be a father to his son.  I know it's what his family is expecting and wanting him to do.  I believe there is still a party boy inside of him clawing to get out.

Like the loyal person I am, I am still waiting and holding out hope.  I think I may have more serious feelings than I'd like to admit.  I thought my parenting days were over, but I think about the three of us, and my boxer, every day.  Imagine my despair when I found out he was 29!

Next time I go to Vegas I am going to bet on the 3 and the 6.  They still equal 18 when multiplied, but side by side their 36 that is more my age!

29

When I turned 40, my best friend proclaimed we would now be 29 forever.  At 29, we felt we had all our stupid, immature behavior out of our system; we’d finished college, and had pretty stable lives.  So 29 it was!  This year was especially nasty since I turned 45, so I appreciated 29 that much more.  I looked young, so pulling off an age that wasn’t quite the “truth” was doable, plus I was young at heart.  As my grandma would say, it all equals out in the wash.

It’s a rare treat to travel somewhere sunny for work, but this year the travel Gods were kind to me.  After a long and rainy winter, I was ready for the sunshine.  I had been doing crunches like a maniac; earlier that year I started going to Zumba, and had become somewhat of a gym rat, I didn’t fear the bikini anymore.  I think I was ready for those two tiny pieces of silky black fabric that were supposed to cover my private parts.  A 29 year olf would not fear the bikini.

The resort in Scottsdale, The Fire Sky was a diamond in the rough Arizona dessert.  I have been to Hawaii a number of times and I would NEVER compare Hawaii to Arizona, but, when I walked through the trendy brown and red toned lobby, I was met with calm.  Very Hawaiian, clam, relaxing and Zen like.  Everything had clean lines, lots of glass and metal, but soft, not hard looking.  And beyond the glass wall was a tropical oasis with fuscia bougainvillea, swaying palm trees, heliotrope the color of fresh churned butter, and water everywhere.  Trickling water falls that poured into glistening swimming pools the color of sky, were punctuated by torches, with flames reaching towards the Gods.   And hidden back behind all this lush vegetation was a quiet pool surrounded by a white sand beach, not visible from the community meeting areas.  I knew that’s where I would escape every free moment I had.

Once all the craziness of kicking off this event had surpassed, I took a moment to look around at the other vender booths.  Down the hall from me was a man that was too beautiful to be attending a software conference.  If this is what the geek squad looks like these days, sign me up.  A leggy 6 foot 4 man, with piercing brown eyes that can see right through your soul, shadowed by a shiny black mop, styled just right and pepper with enough gray to make him look incredibly sexy, stared back at me.  I may have been drooling slightly when I realized I’d been staring at him.  Since he was surrounded by computer geeks, his hotness was punctuated even more. 

His brown eyes connected with mine (suddenly I could feel every degree of the 102 day) and he smiled.  Wow.  He stood and I thought, oh hell he’s going to come talk to me.  Instead, he moved around to the front of his booth, giving me an unobstructed view of his body, something he clearly worked hard on maintaining to perfection.  This was going to be a fun week!

Later that night, I saw him sitting at the fire pit...all alone.  Could this be?  Unattached?  So I grabbed some marshmallows and some skewers and went and sat down next to him.  We exchanged pleasantries, had a couple drinks, and before I knew it we were telling each other about our lives,  comparing our knowledge of the constellations that were lighting up the sky above us, and chatting like old friends.  If there were other people around, I am not sure either one of us noticed.  We were both smitten.  My general rule of thumb is to quiz a new guy about his mother.  I think a good mom can teach a boy how to treat a women and a man that loves his mother, typically, will treat you well.  I was encouraged by the kind and respectful things he said about his mother and four sisters!

As the sunny week progressed, every time we had a break during the day we’d meet by the secret pool and drink champagne cocktails and soak up the hot Arizona sun.  He made me laugh and forget the worries in my world.  It was nice to feel so comfortable around a man, and he had this way of making me feel like the most beautiful women in the state.  As our week started to wrap up, we finished early and met at our spot at the pool.  Shaded by a Audrey Hepburn sun hat, I snuck a look at his tanned face, strong jaw, I reached up and brushed away a lock of his hair.  So silky.  In the real world we lived on opposite coasts, he in the east, me in the west; he travels a lot of business and I go to Florida once a year.  We exchanged cell phone numbers with the promise that this would not be the end.  However, that’s how I roll. I would meet prince charming and he would live at the opposite end of the US.  It’s never easy for me.

I returned to the dreary northwest, the thought of my tanned friend fading from memory.  I jumped back into the hubbub of work and forgot my little slice of paradise. 

One stormy night the rain was slamming against my window, proving to me despite my hate for the rain, it was winning and would continue to win the weather battle until July!  I was wishing for the comfort of the warm sun on my face when my cell phone buzzed on the table.  It was him; my tanned prince charming.  I did a quick calculation and realized it was 1 a.m. on the east coast.  Hmmm.

“Hello,” I said the smile on my face clear in my voice.

“Hey gorgeous, what are you up to?” He asked.

 I could hear him drag on a cigarette, in some far off room a television was blasting. 

“There’s an investigation at my work?” he said.

I knew he was an accountant that investigated financial fraud, especially embezzlement, which seems to be a chronic problem in our country.  Since his company was a client of ours, I figured there was a good chance I would know who was being investigated.

“Who is the hammer coming down on?”  I asked.

“Well we were investigating a large corporation for tax fraud and they retaliated by launching their own investigation.”

“Well I suppose, fight fire with fire. Who are they investigating?” I asked.

“Me.”

Huh?  What? 

He went on and tried to explain.  It became clear rather fast that he had been drinking excessively and the more he talked the less coherent he became.  It was like a tidal wave of information, or maybe a confession.  He peppered in between stories that I deserved a better guy.  Apparently, he didn’t like rules, limitations, or police.  As a result, he had been arrested 29 times!

TWENTY NINE TIMES!

The last one was the Sunday before the conference and had been for alleged domestic abuse.

Suddenly, I don’t want to be 29 anymore.

Dating for women over 40

The ending of my ten year relationship, found me drowning in the dating world at 43!  I am down with technology, I love my devices, but I REFUSE to try online dating. 

This blog with reflect all the crazy men I have met along the way in my quest to find "The One."  If I can't laugh, I will definitely cry!  Stay tuned!

Chris

"The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool"
~ Stephen King ~