Throughout 2012 I have been fortunate to share my time with a few really great guys. All of whom have made an appearance here at HGM. As I reflect on my time with them, it’s clear that each came into my life for a very specific reason.
Mr. Jackpot saved the day back in early January. I remember the night he came to the house for the first time. The dog, who barks at the wind, didn’t make a sound. She didn’t need to protect me. He was there to ease her burden. His presence alone – we never spoke much about The Genius’ betrayal or the divorce – helped give me the strength and confidence I needed to stand up to the knockout blows being thrown my way and to navigate the brutal, pivotal early months post-Pocket Call.
Yes, as you all know, we had our moments. I’m grateful for every single one of them. I learned so much about myself. And we sure did experience a lot of magic together. Mr. Jackpot was instrumental in turning me on to the stars and the planets and even bravely tried to explain the Big Bang to me.
Mr. Jackpot taught me that I am beautiful. And to never forget it.
Mr. Delicious…I can still see him there, sitting on the corner stool in the Sand Dollar, a piano player close enough to kiss his bum. What a brilliant day that was, even if the sunset was subdued. After my awkward participation in his European kiss (I am so at the ready for that now. So, of course, it doesn’t happen.), I drove south on Highway 1, pulling over at my favorite spot to watch the moon tickle the ocean. I felt so free and full of hope that I would meet That Man, if I hadn’t already. I walk into this sleepy little beach town restaurant knowing no one, and walk out having met a tender, gorgeous and very smart man who lived all over the world, and now was fulfilling his dream here.
Mr. Delicious and I shared some amazing meals, the finest wines, and found time in between passing forks to trade tales. He told me a story that I will remember, detail by detail, for all eternity. A story of love. Not the fairytale love we’re force fed by Disney, but real love. Love of family. The willingness and bravery to do what it takes (trust me, it took everything) to save a family. I cry every time I think of this story. The story of his childhood.
Mr. Delicious taught me that loyalty is everything. And to never forget it.
Mr. Triathlete met me on Mt. Tam. I schooled him in climbing, and he schooled me in the bay. To include taking me to the Sports Basement to rent my wetsuit. I remember arriving first and not being able to wait to try it on. I bobbed and weaved to the back of this mammoth once-upon-a-time grocery store and gave over my personal deets – height and weight, and back came my first wet suit.
As I was finalizing my pick, Mr. Triathlete arrived. My flipper feet gave away my dressing nook. He waved hello over the top of the curtain. Ten minutes later we were on our way to Aquatic Park. Ten minutes after that I looked like I swam in the bay since birth. Well, except that my wet suit was unzipped and I was basically being dragged to the bottom. But I had all the right gear. And the right guy by my side.
Mr. Triathlete is focused. He knows what he likes to do and does a lot of it. He moves quickly. He doesn’t waste a moment. He doesn’t waste food, wine, cheese, or sauna time. Seriously, the dude sucks the air out of wine bottles, the air out of food storage containers. I’m convinced he was a shrink-wrapper in a prior life. He may be a bit disorganized (so he says), but every person and thing in his life is cared for in fine fashion.
Mr. Triathlete taught me that I am strong enough to handle any physical challenge. And to never forget it.
So where were these three guys on Christmas? Mr. Jackpot was north, with family. Mr. Delicious was east, with family, and I’m certain Mr. Triathlete was with family, but I have no idea of the direction.
Not one of them was with me.
The run up to Christmas was a fairly stable time given the multitude of opportunities to lose it along the way. I had no expectations, but found myself surprised that on Christmas Eve I was truly enjoying myself. Not because The Genius wasn’t here, although my feet are relieved to not have to pound egg shells anymore, but because I was alone, creating Christmas magic for the dudes. I didn’t succumb to the desire to shoehorn someone into our Christmas to complete the picture, uphold the idea that holidays are meant to be squared.
Our triangle was the perfect shape for me. And is.
Christmas Day was absolute perfection. The dudes appreciated their gifts, were delighted with the extreme window painting the elves did before heading back with Santa, and showed epic restraint with the candy stuffed in their stockings. Warning to those who may consider inviting the little dude into your domicile whilst it is occupied by candy: even if it’s in a lock box surrounded by poured concrete he will sniff it out, dig it out, eat it, and then tell you about it later without a shred of guilt.
I plan to train him on black truffles next.
I checked in on myself a few times throughout the morning – Are you sure this is all okay? Look, it’s okay if you’re feeling blue, lost, less than. This is your first Christmas post betrayal, it’s totally fine to stare in the mirror and cry.
Me, who can cry watching soup simmer, a hamster run on its wheel, during the opening song for Sunday Night Football, shed not a tear the entire day.
After some post-Christmas mass playtime we braved the monsoon and made our way to Muir Beach and The Pelican Inn where a reservation was not to be had, but we were told we could squeeze our way into the pub area for some bangers and mash. We were all super excited for the visit to a 16th century style English Tudor, the only commercial establishment in a beach town so tiny it doesn’t always make it on the map. But I was a bit concerned about the amount of beer spillage the dudes would have to endure. At their height, not a fun way to spend Christmas Day at all.
We took our time on the windy coastal road, every shade of green cloaking the well-nourished trees and hillsides. It had been raining for days. Mists, downpours, hail, double rainbows, more downpours. The kind of weather that slows down time.
I am even loving rain, when 4 years ago I cried straight through a spring back east.
I guess it wasn’t the rain.
The parking lot was empty upon our arrival. Of course it was. The potential crowds were the only reason I was going to bail, but I didn’t, so no crowds. Thank you. Come again.
The dudes and I put on our rain coats and opened the doors, ready to dodge the rain drops. But there were none. Of course.
We walked up the brick steps and along the front of the whitewashed building. Leaded glass windows glowed from within although it was just 4:30 in the afternoon. A steep pitched slate roof the bridge between two white brick chimneys. If they puffed with smoke, the mist and fog hid it well. Almost to the door, the dudes and I paused. We were being serenaded by frogs. Dozens if not hundreds of frogs. On Christmas Day.
Of course.
We were the first to arrive as we ducked our heads reflexively upon entering the pub. I sighed with gratitude; this was exactly what we were hoping for when we talked about how to spend the holiday, post-gift melee. We sat on benches at our narrow table, the only one along the wall that ended with a little cut out for the dart board which was hung on the walk in cooler for kegs. A door in the next wall led to a private living room for overnight guests. Four other tables hugged two walls, the last wall a bar too small for stools. But perfect for Andrea, who made me feel like she was my long lost friend and we were at her Uncle’s house deep in the woods on a quiet weekend away.
I wanted to have a cozy Christmas. The only thing cozier would have been to sit beside a fireplace. Until we all had to strip down from being too hot. I’m serious – this pub is really just a pu, it’s that small. (FYI in case you want to dine at TPI someday – there is a gorgeous dining room with a large, stone fireplace and another covered outdoor dining area, also complete with fireplace.) In between dart games we chatted with everyone who came in for Christmas dinner. A couple in their 60s on a date, parents-to-be – she from Sweden, parents with a very grown up 5 year old boy who loved drawing buildings with the fountain pen I gave the tall dude as a gift. His parents enjoyed the time alone and I was thoroughly entertained by his proper annunciation and the great care he took with each little window he drew into his multistory apartment building as he stood at our table.
You draw like an architect. Maybe one day you’ll be one.
You mean like my Mom and Dad?
Yes, like your Mom and Dad.
They smiled at me from across the room, all five feet away.
Two very different and very attractive single men came in for a late dinner, one after the other. Late here is 7:30. Both were in rain coats, one was nearly floor length. It was teeming out and we had absolutely no idea. The sun could have been shining. We could have been not a mile from the Pacific, but a mile from the North Sea on the west coast of England.
Or in our own little world.
The dating couple stopped by (stepped around) our table to say goodbye. The man shook my hand and complimented me on the ‘special relationship’ I have with the dudes. My Mom must hire these people via job ads on Craig’s List to approach me while I’m out and make me feel good.
The little dude went off to peek into the living room and the tall dude explained the inner workings of a fountain pen to his new friend, a boy at age 5 who actually cared how a fountain pen worked. I let my thoughts wander through the day. And the whole holiday season. It was drawing to a close and I wasn’t happy to see it go, nor sad. But I will always remember it distinctly as our first Christmas as a family transformed. From square to triangle. From tense and stressed to relaxed and joyful, spending our time shooting darts and meeting locals, letting the moments breathe and be cherished for what they are – morsels of time lived once, briefly, and never again.
Nothing should be cherished more.
About two weeks before Christmas I wondered how it was going to feel to be alone with the boys on Christmas Day. Would I wish that 2013 would end with me in the arms of That Man? Was I disappointed that I didn’t have a companion for this holiday? What if it’s always just me and the dudes or me without the dudes because they are with The Genius? In my quest to live firmly present in the moment, I let those questions slide then.
On Christmas night at The Pelican Inn they were answered and those answers directed my gaze to a transformation that has been taking place inside me since the night of the meteor shower as the boys and I snuggled in sleeping bags on the sands of Stinson Beach.
I don’t desire a relationship.
I don’t want to find That Man.
I love men. Encounters in general, yes. And those with single men, most certainly. I have a solid track record over this past inaugural year of My So-Unexpected Single Life. I’ve met some great guys who have each taught me important things about myself; together we’ve had a lot of fun. Parts of That Man live in each of them. With each of them I have had the opportunity to explore different parts of me the woman.
While with the dudes I get to be fully immersed in all things Mom. I get to listen to them explain things to each other, and make each other laugh. My attention doesn’t have to be split up, so I can luxuriate in conversation with just them. One of my most favorite things to do. My ability to pay attention, really absorb them in action, isn’t diluted by my desire to also focus on another.
It feels good to have these two parts of me separate – the Mom and the woman. For me, it makes each experience richer because I am able to be more Mom or more woman when I don’t have to be both at the same time.
When we arrived home after our evening at The Pelican Inn, the dudes and I watched a video of climbing Mt. Everest before turning in for the night. Hot baths, kiss, kiss and we each took to our pillow. I continued to ponder the idea that being single for the rest of my life may actually be exactly what feels best for me. Not many men are going to feel fulfilled as I run off to scale some mountain where the trails to and from the summit claim lives. Which is what I will be doing when the dudes are off to college, prepared to live on their own and succeed. (Big goal for 2013: teach dudes how to do everything from laundry to making pancakes and tacos.)
How did it feel to be alone in my bed on Christmas night? Perfectly right.
The moving sidewalk style relationship predominant in our society is no longer a fit for me. We meet, we date, we say we love each other, we now spend holidays together, the next one better have a ring theme or we’re breaking up, we get married, we have babies, we…
My style seems more reminiscent of a Renaissance ball where encounters are brief but potent, able to be revisited again and again when the time is right. Love can be had, enjoyed and always cherished. Adventures shared, risks taken. Souls bared.
But in the end they go nowhere.
Right here, right now has become my favorite destination.
Love yourself,
Cleo
D, I hope in these words you find the perfect meaning for you, and hopefully some answers to the questions you posed.
I love the way you write. You have that unique ability to put your reader in the moment. I could feel the sand at Stinson Beach, smell the pub, feel the rain. It seems to me that you don’t need the square – in your triangle, you are raising two men to be That Man for two little girls who have no idea how lucky they are going to be when they meet your boys in the future. Somehow, I feel if you invited someone in to form another square, you’d have to shrink yourself down to be a part of it. And you’ve worked so hard to become this larger-than-life woman. While I am still married at the present, when I dream of the future, I see myself in a house that’s just my size, surrounded by books, a big yard for the Irish Wolfhounds that I’ll adopt, and I’m blessedly alone. That’s happily-ever-after to me. Because of my parents cold relationship, I learned about love from television in the ’70′s. It really warped my perception of love, marriage and men. NO real man is Mike Brady. In reality, Mike Brady was screaming at his kids to shut up, drinking too much, finding any reason to be away from the house, ignoring Carol, and of course, cheating with his secretary. REALITY. I may sound like a bitter man-hater, and maybe I am, but reality stole my skewed view of the happy family. So sorry this is so long, but you, dear lady, have helped me pull my head out of the sand. My expectations are based in reality now. I’ve let go of my balloon string, but I’m not sad. I’m empowered. Thank you.
S,
Thank you, m’lady. Oh, I feel so Renaissancy! Could you hear the frogs??
You are in a perfect position to play with all these ideas and theories we float here at HGM. That house with the Irish Wolfhounds cantering in the yard? I bet it’s next door to a man who loves his privacy, dogs the size of horses, and cherishes a woman who is excited by the opportunity to live her life, and at times, hold the hand of a very deserving companion along the way.
Mike Brady never did it for me. Thank you for your kind words and for being here.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Cleo, insightful post as always.
Whenever I’m in crisis mode or when I’m feeling down or unmotivated, I like drowning myself in inspiration – mostly serious, sometimes funny, sometimes sarcastic – quotes. Recently I came across a quote which goes “The smartest thing a woman can ever learn is to never need a man”. I love it. Not just because I’ve been betrayed to the core by one. But because as a woman in the 21st century, I truly do believe that I am and should be able to stand on my own two feet, be my own best friend, and not have my world’s happiness be dependent on a man. This isn’t to say that prior to my separation that I didn’t think that the jackass was my world and my everything and it’s not to say that I didn’t think he was my best friend. Because I did, I thought all of it. I guess I’m just trying to say that sometimes we don’t realise just how resilient and how strong we are until we’re thrown into chaos.
I’d like to think I’d be okay going through birthdays, holidays, family gatherings etc without the jackass. I haven’t quite gotten there just yet. And the one thing I love about HGM is that you are at least a year ahead of me in this ‘new’ path we’re taking… I read your posts and the lessons you’ve learnt and the wisdom gained from what you’ve been through and it shows me that there’s where I want to be months from now, a year from now, two years from now. You are lighting the path for me.
PS: I am quite unobservant at times and I just realised from your Twitter page that you live in San Francisco. I travelled there exactly two years ago and spent 5 of the foggiest days in SF. I loved every moment. Despite failing miserably at capturing a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge from afar (due to fog), it’s one of my favourite cities in the world. I have to travel back one day so I can finally take a picture of the bridge
J,
The fog is quite a sight, no? On my first trip to San Francisco I was so excited to see the fog. I recall climbing over hills near the Golden Gate Bridge to watch it pour in from the sea. I saw one piece. Yes. A piece. It was about three feet long. Floated over the deck of the bridge and into the bay. Poof.
But I decided that day that I wanted to live in a place where people come for vacation. I was 23. Thoughts become things.
Much to glean in that quote, with one caution: To not become part of the US versus THEM brigade. Men are fascinating, beautiful, fun, they fish and love baseball, they have strong bodies (well, most…okay, some), they love the smell of a woman, they stroke our hair, they want to protect us (some think wearing a condom while cheating is protecting us), they are curious about us and we about them.
Encounters with the opposite sex are the coolest things that happen here on this planet. But to experience the magic we must be content with and in love with ourselves. Otherwise, I feel, the encounter becomes more about What can you give me? rather than What can we create together?When we love ourselves we can love and let go with ease, being grateful to have had the opportunity at all.
I’m grateful you are here, J. You rock.
Love yourself,
Cleo
That’s funny what you said about the rain…all this time I *thought* I disliked the holiday season and winter here in Maryland. Come to find out–I don’t hate it at all and it was somehow directly connected to my ex. He was a bit of a scrooge and I guess it rubbed off on me after all those years. And I think the winter depressed me because I felt trapped inside and lonely in my own home. Now I welcome the winter and am actually enjoying walking in the cold and the beauty and starkness of the winter wonderland around here
N,
Your comment is spot on. It wasn’t the rain. It’s most often not what is outside of us that is the cause for the knots in our bellies, a lack of patience or an inability to see joy even if it’s screaming LOOK AT ME! . It’s our soul trying to speak up in a language it hopes we can interpret. Dis-ease. Unsettled. Only able to see that which isn’t working, so that maybe we will say, Hey – I’d like to see what IS working! I only learned that last night. Now that I am truly happy inside being in limbo doesn’t scare me, cold winds don’t deter me, and I’m better able to manage my emotional reactions to unexpected surprises of the not so great variety.
Next time I’d like to figure this s…tuff out in my 20s.
Happy New Year, N! Thank you for being here.
Love yourself,
Cleo
It’s wonderful that you have the ability to find the beauty in everything. I aspire to that, but more often find myself moping about every little thing. I’m going to try to be more like you – there’s my NY resolution. You inspire me with every post. Carry on! XO
L,
Wow! I am an actual New Year’s resolution! That’s a first. Stoked.
I was a moper. Or perhaps better to say a complainer. I looked for reasons why something couldn’t work instead of being happy about all the things that were working. In hindsight, the energy of The Genius’ betrayal permeated our home for four years. Regardless of the mastery of his deceit, my soul knew what was going on. Hard to be optimistic when you’re being screwed over.
The Pocket Call was the beginning of my Age of Beauty, which is an age that will never end. Although it didn’t become clear until a few months ago, I was making the choice to do that which made me feel good back then. It felt better to smile than to cry, better to be wowed by nature than lament my misfortune, better to burn it at the gym or on the mountain than mope around the house. Soon, I realized my ‘misfortune’ was only that if I labeled it that. All about the choices…
I have a little suggestion for you – look for the most beautiful thing you can find each day and write it down on a piece of paper. It will serve to make you conscious of beauty. You can put yourself at the top of the list. I KNOW you can do this. And I can’t wait to hear about how it makes you feel. Stay close…
Love yourself,
Cleo
There is no perfect time to move on and start dating. Each person is different and some people never find another soulmate and are quite happy just to be by themselves for the rest of their lives. Men seem to have to find someone. whereas women often are not so needy and can be comfortable in their own skin.
M,
Fascinating, no? In our early years women go to great lengths to attract a man, and men appear to be the ones that don’t need a companion. Then the years go by and the dynamic shifts. I must ask – why do you think women are more comfortable in their skin later on in life and men not so? Does that mean they haven’t been comfortable in their skin all along?
I want to make certain that my words aren’t misinterpreted. I totally need men. I adore them. But I don’t need a relationship. That’s going to be a tricky path to navigate, but I’m stoked to give it a try.
Thanks for taking the time to comment, M. I’m grateful you are here.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Hi there,
There’s a fascinating book called “The Female Brain” by Louann Brizendine, a neuropsychiatrist, that explains how changing hormone levels and brain chemistry contribute to women feeling freer to focus more on what matters to them and less on how others perceive them as they age. According to the book, during childbearing years, a woman’s brain is “programmed with a delicate interplay of hormones, physical touch, emotions, and brain circuits to care for, fix, and otherwise help those around her. Societally, she has always been reinforced to please others.”
Brizendine also published a book called “The Male Brain” that may be helpful reading as well…for understanding your boys as they age.
Both books cover the role of the brain and hormones in a human’s life from birth to death.
Nic
N,
Thanks for taking the time to let us know about these books. They sound like fascinating reads!
Perfect timing as I write tonight about the body. I’ve been ignoring mine these past several days and it’s letting me know it!
Thank you for so much, N. You know you rock.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Dear Cleo,
I’m sure that you’ve already seen or read this amazing words but since they would be so appropriate right now here they are :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVyRYGlk7WM
Read them again and again – there is so much truth in there…
P.S : I was calling ”Mommy-mode” the time spent with my little dude.
Snowy hugs from Montréal
S,
Oh, Montreal. The Hunting and Fishing Club, Auberge du Vieux-Port…the crepes! Those little plows that take care of the sidewalks.
Every word written is fact in this video. In a reply to a comment to M which I posted seconds ago, I echoed these sentiments. Thank you for sending this as I had not seen it before.
This is exactly how I feel about encounters. Feeling this way brings me joy, peace and I’m always excited to see who arrives when I’ve asked for assistance. Like you, m’lady. Thank you for being here.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Oh Cleo,
Each and every time I read a new post from you it seems to say exactly what I need to be hearing at that moment. Today, I needed to be told to slow down, remember what I have, what I have to grateful for, not to try to force my life or the lives of others around me, and remember that there is beauty everywhere- even in the pouring rain.
You are such a guide to me and to many others… you are able to put into words what we need to hear, be gently reminded of, and to get us back on track of living our lives in the present, with love and sensitivity. Thank you so much for being brave enough to share your journey with us; it’s so inspiring that you’ve managed to turn such a horrific experience into such a generous and positive action. We are in your debt.
Just to finish, another quote for you, and one that always always gets me tingling… ‘The privilege of a lifetime is being yourself.’ And what a privilege it is.
Oh, E!
‘The privilege of a lifetime is being yourself.’ One sentence that expresses the singular thought that has transformed me post Pocket Call. From that day on I felt it was, and is, my primary responsibility to respect this opportunity to live on this planet in this time as me. I can fail at many things along the way and still consider my life a success, but if I don’t respect myself, my body, my being, my soul and the brief period of time I have to live, I will have failed epically.
Thank you for sharing that quote with me. And thank you for your beautiful and kind words. I am so grateful to have this opportunity. I cherish every moment I get to spend with you. Daily, I am impressed by the love you all so willingly share. It’s a privilege to share this time with you.
Love yourself,
Cleo
All of the above is true and comforting and empowering – but what about physicality, what and S-E-X? With no small dudes around to provide even a hug, where do we who have been left find comfort and connection with humans which goes beyond words? I miss my husband, my best friend, my lover of 26 years. I miss the comfort that comes from being with another human body. I haven’t even talked to a single man in the year the year that has passed since we have separated so the thought of actually having an ‘encounter’ is something I look forward to.
M,
Create that encounter, M. It’s time!
I have had conversations about this with my super Catholic Mom, love her to pieces. I don’t want to get married again. Does that mean I’m not going to have physical relations with a man for the rest of my time here? Do spiders fly? Oh, wait, they do.
Human touch is essential. This isn’t about being promiscuous. Let’s rewrite the rules. (My Mom just sunk to her knees in prayer.) It’s all about communication. When the time is right, I’ll be able to express how I feel because I (A) love myself, (B) have solid boundaries and (C) live with integrity. That doesn’t mean I have to be celibate. (Mom pulls out her rosary.)
Attraction, M. We will attract the right people to us that want to fulfill our needs. It’s the Earth’s barter system. We truly are here to help each other. For it to succeed, we must seek nothing from another but to create a beautiful moment in time.
My Mom is now on a plane bound for San Francisco with a chastity belt hidden in her luggage.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Oh, Cleo! I wish you could see me now because I am literally beaming for you. BEAMING! To compare the tone of this post with ones from the past is indescribable. I feel like you have reached a peak from which you are ready and willing to face whatever experiences come your way — in a healthy fashion.
“Next time I’d like to figure this s…tuff out in my 20s.” Wouldn’t we all. At least for me, I wasn’t nearly ready enough for any of this in our 20s. In fact, I think that people are given all the right signs throughout their lives, but they’re not able to grasp them for what they are until they are mentally ready. Funny, how life works.
My New Year’s wish for you is to stay honest – to yourself and others, but more importantly, stay vulnerable. It’s difficult at times, but so worth the effort.
C,
I wish I could see you, too! There is a big transformation going on inside me. While it certainly has a lot to do with betrayal and divorce, it is bigger than both of those life altering experiences.
I love your New Year’s wish for me. I’m elevating that to the top of my intentions for 2013. Honesty and vulnerability will make for a magical year. I’m ready to be both, consciously. With a great deal of excitement for what lies ahead. Thank you for your beaming-ness and for being here. For taking the time to let me know that you are proud of me.
Love yourself,
Cleo
If your Mom is as good a Catholic as you deem her to be, she prays on a daily basis and trusts that God will watch over all her kids. God gave them a conscience, as a gift, and they have been taught FOR EVER that if we don’t use gifts we receive we eventually forget we even have them. Enough said. Great posts Cleo. I learn many wonderful new things from them.
P,
In a competition with priests and cardinals and bishops and all other assorted clergymen and women, my Mom would come out on top. When my Dad died there was a time when we thought the convent up the street was gong to ask her to be a nun. Seriously. At age 64. She drove there for a meeting and we all figured we’d be packing her clothes and only seeing her on Sundays!
She is priceless, beautiful, and a stickler for old-fashioned values. And I love her.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Great post as usual. After the YUCK that was my 2012 (betrayal, revelation, separation, etc.), I starting to think about dipping my toe into the dating scene. Hopefully my 2013 will hold a few encounters and will look like your 2012 (man-wise, that is). I am curious to see where my head’s at after I get some experience under my belt. It’s true I had the “moving sidewalk style relationship” already and look where it got me… I have a feeling that there are many different ways of being with a future partner that I can’t even comprehend yet. But where, oh where, are you meeting these great men? Seems very daunting a prospect as a working mom who is primary caregiver for my three young kiddos. Some practical advice please! As always, thank you Cleo!
M,
Thank you for your kind words, M. I’d like to explore some different ways of being with a future partner in a post. It’s begging to be pondered. But to answer your question, perhaps it’s not where I meet them but how. I attract them. Probably not with my flipper feet or Lego-shredded nails. More likely with my energy. What My Personal Physicist would say is the law of attraction.
I am so happy to be alive that I radiate joy. Lots of people have pretty faces and/or rockin’ bodies, but what really attracts someone is our energy. What we radiate out. When we are in love with ourselves and content in our life, we are attractive. We attract. Going through the process of falling in love with ourselves is key. We ‘set the table’ before we ‘serve the food’.
A working Mom with three children is a busy woman who bops in and out of all sorts of places on a daily basis. Take a look around you as you go about your day. Do you see all those men??? I can see you dropping your keys at the counter of a dry cleaner and banging heads with the kind man who bends to retrieve them. You say thank you. Your eyes meet. You both smile. An encounter that can easily translate into a friendship which can morph into something else. Hopefully something that follows its own path, far away from any moving sidewalks.
Walk through your day with an open heart, an eye for magic and a desire for nothing more than joyful encounters. That’s how I met those men. Each arrived to assist me, and I them. When they drift away it’s because our tasks have been completed. No hard feelings, no broken hearts. No Is he the one? The only One is you. Everyone else is a delightful soul who has come into your multi-act play to take on a role.
Every day becomes an exciting adventure when we see the numerous possibilities for encounters. Look for the magic, m’lady.
And don’t let me forget to write a post on manifesting magical men. I’m not eating enough blueberries. The ideas fly in and out, often before I can type them into my iPhone. Sigh.
Love yourself,
Cleo
M,
Thank you for your kind words, M. I’d like to explore some different ways of being with a future partner in a post. It’s begging to be pondered. But to answer your question, perhaps it’s not where I meet them but how. I attract them. Probably not with my flipper feet or Lego-shredded nails. More likely with my energy. What My Personal Physicist would say is the law of attraction.
I am so happy to be alive that I radiate joy. Lots of people have pretty faces and/or rockin’ bodies, but what really attracts someone is our energy. What we radiate out. When we are in love with ourselves and content in our life, we are attractive. We attract. Going through the process of falling in love with ourselves is key. We ‘set the table’ before we ‘serve the food’.
A working Mom with three children is a busy woman who bops in and out of all sorts of places on a daily basis. Take a look around you as you go about your day. Do you see all those men??? I can see you dropping your keys at the counter of a dry cleaner and banging heads with the kind man who bends to retrieve them. You say thank you. Your eyes meet. You both smile. An encounter that can easily translate into a friendship which can morph into something else. Hopefully something that follows its own path, far away from any moving sidewalks.
Walk through your day with an open heart, an eye for magic and a desire for nothing more than joyful encounters. That’s how I met those men. Each arrived to assist me, and I them. When they drift away it’s because our tasks have been completed. No hard feelings, no broken hearts. No Is he the one? The only One is you. Everyone else is a delightful soul who has come into your multi-act play to take on a role.
Every day becomes an exciting adventure when we see the numerous possibilities for encounters. Look for the magic, m’lady.
And don’t let me forget to write a post on manifesting magical men. I’m not eating enough blueberries. The ideas fly in and out, often before I can type them into my iPhone. Sigh.
Love yourself,
Cleo
OOOhhhh…magic words from a magical woman. You are so right Cleo. A thing that I noticed is that the encounters (that will eventually lead to succesful relationships) are more meaningfull when they happens in real life, ideally during an activity fuelled by a passion – this thought was reinforced reading your story. Yes I tried online dating (resulted in a 4years r/s) and unfortunately I think that it’s mostly for bruised/unhealed souls and ego boosting. So follow your passion, be open and receptive and don’t forget to smile. I think MeetUp it’s a good start.
S,
MeetUp is GREAT! And your words are the perfect prescription for attracting magical encounters. Follow your passions. If you’ve lost them, find them again. Life is meant to be lived passionately.
Mr. Jackpot once said that his passion for life was sucked out by his former partner. That’s tragic. If that is happening to anyone here, please seal that tube shut. Your passions are yours and they deserve to be nurtured. Don’t passively let them be drained away. Please.
Thank you, S! Have a crepe for me!
Love yourself,
Cleo
If I was skilled/organized enough to create a vision board, this would be the centre of it:
“Walk through your day with an open heart, an eye for magic and a desire for nothing more than joyful encounters.”
For now, I settle for it being written out on a post-it note and taped to my computer at work.
As always, your words are magic Cleo.
Many thanks,
N
N,
I love that you love that!
I am super find of post-its. I will share that story one day. And I love my vision board, so I challenge you to create one!
Happy to make magic with you-
Love yourself,
Cleo
Love your writing! When you’re ready for a post divorce story that has lots of humor, check out Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet by Chad Stone. It will help you understand men.
R,
Thank you, R! And thanks for the book suggestion. It goes on the list!
Love yourself,
Cleo
R,
Thank you, R! And thanks for the book suggestion. It goes on the list!
Love yourself,
Cleo