Gone Fishin'

Well...not exactly. But "Gone to explore Dubrovnik, Hvar, and the Dalmation Coast" just doesn't have the same ring to it!

See 'ya when I get back!

I'm so ticked at (my) Democratic Party, I could spit...

I knew this would happen. I blogged about it over a year ago.

This election was supposed to be a shoo-in. The Democrats didn't have to win this election- it was theirs to lose.

Ugh. Why can't this party get their act together when it comes to campaigning to the "average middle-class American"?

While I am excited and impressed that the final two primary choice were an African-American and a woman...I've known that America simply isn't ready for it. It's sad, and it's embarrassing, but it's also true.

Between hearing my parents say "I can't vote for anyone with the middle name of Hussein" and hearing others say "I can't let that Michelle Obama anywhere near the white house- she hates this country and she hates whites", I am scared.

When the primaries dragged out and became vicious, I knew that each of the two candidates were doing irreparable harm. They were handing the Republicans clear, simple reasons to beat whichever Democratic candidate ultimately ran for President.

Last fall I asked myself- "How will the Republicans possibly win this election?" It seemed that finally the country was united in agreeing that Bush was doing a deplorable job. Everything's a mess. We need to change our position in the world. We are all worse off than we were eight years ago.

But when I asked myself this question, I knew the answers.

A) The Republicans need to stay as quiet as possible during the entire primary process- let the Democrats beat each other up, and tire each other out.

B) The Republican candidate needs to distance himself from Bush as much as he possibly can.

C) Once again, they need to appeal to Middle America. Come up with brief phrases and slogans that hit their hot buttons.

Well, Congrats to the McCain campaign on accomplishing all of the above. It is clearly paying off.

Meanwhile, we still have a vicious fight between Obama and Clinton supporters. And neither side is handling it well. Obama Dems are saying "We won! We won! Stop being sore losers! You're just a bunch of bitter women!" while the Clinton Dems respond "I will vote for Obama over my dead body! Never! Never I say!"

I feel like I'm in the middle of a freakin' playground fight.

Yes, I'm voting Democrat. I'm sick and tired of the direction this county is taking. And no, I don't think John McCain will bring enough change to the office. Or at least not the kind of change I am hoping for.

Remember when we were children and would fight with our siblings? My brother and I sometimes had knock-down, drag-out, name-calling fights. But the next day in school, if the school yard bully picked on him? My brother and I were one. United.

That's the way to beat the bully.

The Hole Truth

This has been a rough year for me. I am currently struggling in every aspect of my life. It has felt like I'm going through some sort of rehab. Purging the negative out of my life.

I planned for this process, it has been quite deliberate. But I was not prepared for how difficult it would be.

A big part of my purging included the removal of my most recent long-term ex. Though "recent" is a strange term to use. Our actual relationship ended very early in 2006, I think. But we remained very much in each others' lives. I actually grew to love him more after our relationship. He was one of my best friends. And we were still sexually involved, which of course added an entire confusing layer to the situation.

He moved far away at the end of 2006. Whew! I thought. Maybe now I can move on...

It didn't happen. I tried to break off contact for a couple months, but as soon as I got word he was dating someone, I resumed contact. I was relieved that he stopped dating the woman shortly thereafter.

We went on a vacation together.

He met up with me during a business trip.

I went to visit him.

He came to visit me.

He had no other significant dating relationships during the four years we knew each other. Neither did I. Even though we stated again and again that we were not in a relationship, I think we were filling that need for each other. During our brief times together, we felt like a couple. We simply fit.

He was the man on this planet that I knew loved me, cared about me. One of the people on the planet I was closest to, that knew me best. And he knew that I was crazy in love with him. He knew I wished more than anything that he and I could be together, that we could build a life together. And he told me over and over again that he could not give that to me, did not want to give that to me. For him, something was missing.

I have always been very careful about writing about him on this blog because he used to read it. He doesn't anymore.

For months, I planned how I could extract myself from this relationship. He came for a visit in April (it's important to note it was not a trip to just see me, it was also to see family and friends, he stayed with me for part of the time.) I decided that I was going to lay my heart out there for him completely one last time, even knowing I was going to get the same response I always did. I had also decided that once I did that, I would break off every bit of contact.

After his visit, I wrote a very personal blog post that probably tipped my hand a bit. It definitely made it clear that my relationship with him was causing me pain. He read it, and confronted me about it. "We really need to stop being together this way". We had had this conversation many times before, except that this time I responded "Yes, you're right, it has been my intention to cut it off now."

"This time I really mean it." He said.

"Yes, I know- so do I."

What he didn't know was that I meant that we needed to end everything- the calls, the emails...all communication. I think initially he thought we could keep this friendship. I knew I wasn't strong enough to do that. I had tried. Again and again.

It was hard. He reached out a couple times, but I knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't try for long. Once, twice, maybe. Then that was it. Silence.

This was mid-April. Technically, it wasn't a breakup. So I shouldn't have been too heartbroken. And it had been going on for years. I should be over it rather quickly, free to move on with my life.

I didn't talk about it much with my friends- they had grown tired of this particular subject long ago. And I didn't allow myself to grieve, because I was embarrassed. I should have been done with this business long ago. It had already wreaked too much havoc in my life, it's absolutely silly to let it cause any more.

I pushed forward. Jumped into dating. Spent a lot of time distracting myself. It worked- I have spent little to no time thinking about him.

But there's a hole in my heart. I miss him. I miss my best friend. There is a definite void in my life that has not been healed and has not been filled.

Questions for a Saturday Morning

...Why is it that someone who has been married for 20 years can get divorced, and find another suitable spouse within two years, yet those of us that have never been married still have trouble finding a partner?

...If you find out that the man that your friend is in a "committed relationship" with, the man she thinks she's in love with, has a current, active online dating profile...do you tell her?

...Fashion question: A current trend I have noticed amongst some twenty and thirty somethings-Wearing a wide belt around the rib cage. The result is boob, belt, and a roll of belly fat. Is this supposed to look good?

...I'm no expert on the Olympics, but if our American culture is so uber-focused on athletic achievement, versus the Chinese culture that is much more academically focused, shouldn't we have completely wiped out the Chinese when it comes to gold medals?

...Yesterday, I'm standing on the street waiting to meet a colleague. From half a block away I see a tall, very hot looking man walking my way. He stops and asks me a question "Is there a UPS store near here?" I'm 41 friggin' years old, why do I still get all awkward and self-conscious when a hot man asks me a simple question?

Bad Date Contest Entry

I'm entering Restaurant Refugee's Bad Date Contest.

Fortunately, I have not had a lot of "bad dates". I've had dull dates. I've had so-so dates. And I have had dates where I had a good time, but didn't particularly care if I saw the guy again. But few are in the category of "bad".

But Seth qualifies.

We met off Match.com. He seemed like a good guy on paper- reasonably attractive, intelligent, a variety of interests, a quirky writing style. I must have been interested since I responded to his emails and eventually gave him my phone number.

I should have known something was off in the conversation. I don't remember too many details of what we talked about- I think it was an easy back and forth, which is a good thing. We joked a bit about our online experiences and how odd the whole thing seems to be.

He shared "bad date" experiences with me...telling me that on more than one occasion he met up with a woman from match who ended up looking nothing like her pictures. One was many years older, another was about 50 lbs heavier. He was telling me about how he doesn't mean to be superficial, but it took him off guard and made him uncomfortable. He also talked about how important chemistry and physical attraction is, so when the person looks entirely different from the pictures they post, it sets the date up for failure.

I agreed with what he said. I hadn't really experienced that kind of dishonesty the way he had. The only thing close was that many men seem to add a couple inches to their height. So I've met up with men who were around 5'9" or less, who claimed to be 6'. Not that that is a big deal, but if I had known, I wouldn't have worn my heels.

So Seth asked me three times during the course of our phone conversation how current my pics were. At that time, my primary photo was weeks old and I had other pictures ranging in age from months old to a couple years. But generally, I looked like my pictures. And he was sort of jokingly asking me...so I joked back. But I wasn't offended by the repeat question.

All in all, I enjoyed our conversation, so we made plans to meet for lunch days later.

I show up at the restaurant and scan the bar area where we decided to meet. At first glance, I do not see him. Then, a man turns to look at me and he is beaming ear to ear. He approaches me and says "Ah! Aileen! You do look just like your pictures!" as he hugs me in greeting.

Seth is about 100 pounds heavier than his photos. (You saw that coming, didn't you?)

I'm shocked. I'm thrown off balance. And on the inside, I'm mad as hell. Now mind you, it's not that he's heavy that makes me angry- I have dated a few large men, though it's not particularly my preference. No...I was pissed that he was dishonest- AND made such a big deal about what I would look like.

But being courteous, I proceed to have lunch with him. I am barely holding up my end of the conversation, but Seth does not seem to notice. He is so pleased that I look like my pictures and says so several times. I'm simply flabbergasted.

Then he begins to talk about what we discussed on the phone about the importance of chemistry and physical attraction. He asks me "So are you attracted to me?" with this sly smile on his face, as if assuming a positive response.

I simply laugh off his question and sort of change the subject. Minutes later he asks again "Are you attracted to me?"

Since he was forcing my hand, I had to put it out there. "Not really, no. Sorry."

Somehow, that doesn't discourage him. He actually says he thinks it could still happen, since he feels a "connection" between us.

He invites me to take a walk with him after lunch. I politely decline- he seems surprised! And when I make an excuse, he gives me a wounded puppy kind of look. Finally, we leave the restaurant and go our separate ways. It was at that point, I promised myself "no more blind dates over a meal- coffee is just fine!"

Days later, he emailed me asking if he could have another shot. I declined and told him I was not at all interested. He asked why.

Why???? Seriously???

I then explained that it was shocking to me that he would go on and on about how terrible it is for someone to show up for a date when they look nothing like their pictures, when he is clearly using old photos on his profile.

He denied it, saying that many people told him he actually looks better in person than in his pictures.

Did he really think 100lbs wasn't noticeable?

I'm So Much Smarter When I'm Sleeping

I rarely remember my dreams when I wake up.

This morning was an exception, I remember a sliver of a dream that I had very early this morning, just before I woke up.

I was with a small group of people in a business-seminar type setting. Someone was leading us through a vision exercise.

I have led and been led through these types of exercises many, many times.

The language used is usually along the lines of,

"Where would you like to be in 2 (5,10 etc.) years? What does it look like?"

"How does that compare to your current reality?"

"What do you need to do to get from here to there?"

The language used in my dream was very different.

In my dream, the facilitator asked, "Tell us about your true reality?"

I was the first to share "When I'm asked this question, I'm often hesitant to answer. I think it's because I'm afraid of what I will have to sacrifice in my current reality in order to achieve my true reality."

The others were very supportive and encouraging about this response.

I continued. Saying with clarity and confidence,

"My purpose for being here is to fully explore and cherish the connections between people."


Let me point out that when I said "my purpose for being here", I wasn't referring to this particular place or event. I was clearly referring to my purpose on this planet. My purpose in this life. In my dream I had no doubts about what I was saying, and I knew exactly what I meant.

Now that I'm awake, I feel there is a message there somewhere, but I'm a little fuzzy on exactly what that is.

Alright, alright, 'ya caught me!

My friend called me out on my man-free summer. We were having dinner, and some fun girl conversation, when the subject made it's way to my always entertaining personal life.

My girlfriend, M asked "So what's the point behind this man-free summer?"

Good question, I thought. "I want to clear my head and my heart. I want to relax and be free from the angst and the anxiety that comes when I'm wanting, thinking about, looking for or working on a relationship. I just want to have a good time..."

M says "That makes sense."

I continue "...And I'm thinking that maybe by taking this break, by fall my mind, heart and life will have room for something (and someone) wonderful."

M "But it didn't really begin at the beginning of summer."

"Well...not according to the calendar definition of summer."

"And your maintenance man is still in the picture."

"Well...kinda...depends on what 'in the picture' means."

"And you've hooked up a few times with an ex."

"Well...he doesn't technically count as an ex."

"And you're still going on dates."

"Only platonic ones!"

"And even your 'girls' weekend' wasn't man-free."

"That doesn't count! What happens in PG County stays in PG County!"

"And you've had a crush on a man pretty much all summer long."

"But that's harmless! I'm sure nothing will come of it..."

"So how's that man-free summer going?"

"Alright! Alright! Maybe it's not man-free...Let's just call it........... man-lite???"

"How's it been lite?"

"No heavy-duty emotional involvement. No pressure. No thinking about lofty, long-term goals!"

"But you'll still be having dates, hookups, and other dalliances?"

"I guess."

"Yeah....well...good luck with that, Aileen."

I love my girlfriends. They love to call me out on my bullshit.

Spontaneous Arrangements

One of the things I miss about college is the fact that you can create last minute social plans and pretty much guarantee that you'll have at least a few people to join you.

Whew. It's been a long time since college.

As an adult, maintaining a healthy, interesting social life is almost like a full time job. It takes planning. And scheduling. And prioritizing. And commitment. It can get exhausting.

Last week I conducted a bit of an experiment. I attempted to create last minute, spontaneous, social arrangements. Wow! What a rebel I am! What a risk taker!

All I know is that I had been working all day, it was a weekday afternoon, and it was a simply gorgeous day. And sometime in the mid-afternoon, I decided I wanted some company that evening. I had no pre-arranged plans. I wanted to be "out", to enjoy the weather, etc.

I made twelve phone calls/emails. Twelve. Six plus six. I only spoke directly to about 1/3 of the people I was attempting to contact. I mainly left voice mails and emails. Every single one included an invitation to dinner and/or drink that evening.

Potentially, I guess I could have ended up with a party of 13.

Or 8.

Or 6.

And like so many other things in life, it turned out to be a numbers game. I ended up with 1 person who was available and willing to join me. Every one else had plans, was booked, or didn't feel like going out. It might be interesting to note, that 2 out of my 12 invitations were to men. And it was one of the men that accepted.

Happy ending, though. I had a fantastic evening with a great friend.

The Downside of Being a Low-Maintenance Chick...

...is that I don't always look my best when I am "out and about".

No, sadly, when I'm walking around post-workout, I don't resemble anything close to this picture of Kate Hudson. In fact, I couldn't really find a picture to properly represent me in all my natural glory.

Soooo...let me explain how this has come into play this week.

I've returned to my old routine of starting each day with a rather long, vigorous hike/walk around the trails in my neighborhood. I go for about an hour, ending at a nearby Panera, where I begin a little morning work.

I do not shower before I go. I'm in workout gear- sweats or yoga pants, sports bra, t-shirt. No make-up, of course. Hair pulled back, baseball hat pulled low. In other words, I do my best to shield myself in order to spare the public this potentially disturbing sight.

There's a cozy little corner in my Panera, that has two soft chairs and a little table between them. The chairs are slightly slanted towards each other, so it would be a nice place for a chat. Usually I try to snag that corner, because it's a nice place to drink my iced tea and read. But the spot is clearly for a twosome- so if only one person is sitting there, it's sort of an unspoken rule that you wouldn't take the other seat. Kinda an invasion of privacy, you know?

So two days in a row, two different men have chosen to sit beside me as I enjoy my morning beverage. And not just "men", but nice-looking men. Age-appropriate for Aileen men. Not wearing a ring men.

And they don't just sit and start reading a paper. Oh no.

They want to chat.

And smile.

And flirt.

And the entire time I'm thinking "What the f@#& ?!"

I can't flirt when I look like this!

Seriously. Can't. Flirt.

Can't make eye contact. Can't answer with more than one word at a time. It's basically my full-on, stand-back, don't f@#& with me vibe.

I'm hopeless.

the aftermath

Please bear with me. I know the last couple of posts have been a bit on the depressing side, but I'd appreciate it if you'd hang in there with me for one more post. Then I will get back to my regularly scheduled programming about man-free summers, dating, girls nights out, and reality tv...



Some may wonder "why go there?" Why tell such a graphic, disturbing, personally intimate story in this format? Well as I mentioned, I'd been itching to tell the story. I have suspected that I really need to write about it, and by doing this, I have discovered my instinct was correct. And the feedback from a couple of my commenters made me realize that the story that I most need to tell is "how did you get from there to here?" In other words, how did I get back on my feet? How has this drastic, traumatic experience impacted my life?



Well I can't answer that question here. Way too much to tell. But I can give a brief overview of what happened in the weeks and months to come...



1. The immediate aftermath- The morning after, although I woke up feeling physically ill, as if I had been severely and repeatedly kicked in the gut, I also felt a sense of relief. A sense of relief that he was out of my life, and that it was over. Because I knew that if something drastic hadn't happened, I would have spent the rest of my life taking care of a manic-depressive alcoholic. Then I felt deep guilt over the relief I felt.



2. The responsibility- I was surprised to learn how amazingly strong and resilient I am. My ability to work through this crisis gave me such a deep sense of confidence. Sort of a "if I can handle this, I can handle absolutely anything..." type of feeling. It turned out that Fred's mother did not want anything to do with the funeral arrangements, she told me to let the "state take care of it". She couldn't even afford to fly down for the funeral. So the things I had to take care of, consisted of, but were not limited to, the following-

• Obtain power of attorney from his mom.


• Empty Fred's house of all possessions. Sell them in a yard sale.


• Return his black corvette to the bank.


• Sell his motorcycle


• Raise money for his funeral (his friends, my friends, and my family all contributed)


• Pick out a casket.


• Pick out a tombstone.


• Find a new apartment so I could take Max to live with me.


• After a few nights with Max, realizing I was in no emotional state to care for him, I had to find a new owner for him.

3. Fred's last message to me- One of the first things I found out was that he had made me the beneficiary of all of his accounts, including a life insurance policy he had taken out a few months prior. The cops were generous enough to call Fred's death an "accident", so I ended up inheriting some money. On his beneficiary listing, he had me listed as his "fiancee". He never really formally proposed, he simply used to refer to me as "the woman he's going to marry". I refer to him as my second fiance, even though technically that's not entirely accurate.

4. The funeral- It's hard to be a woman losing her man, but not really being able to be the widow. I lost it at the funeral, I don't think I've ever cried so loud in public in my life. For some reason, I did not want my family there (my brother had come down days prior to help me with some of the arrangements, my mother came down during the funeral and waited for me back at my apartment.) I also must say that Fred had loved some pretty great women in his life. Two of his most recent ex-gf's came out of the woodwork, wanting to be involved with the funeral arrangements. At the actual funeral, there were a couple hundred people there. Dozens of them were women from Fred's past. If it wasn't so tragic, it was almost comical.

5. My emotional downfall- During the weeks / months that followed I became "romantically" (I use that term lightly) with two of Fred's close friends. I hate the fact that I did that, though I can forgive myself for it. It really was a pathetic attempt to stay close to him, to stay connected to him. Needless to say, it also alienated me from the majority of his circle of friends (who had become my circle of friends, and my family away from home.)

6. My stellar rise in career- The tragedy brought me attention in my company (Jenny Craig herself donated to Fred's funeral, as did dozens of my co-workers). What was freaky is that I started kicking some serious butt, almost immediately, on the job. I was breaking records, winning national contests. I was promoted three times over the next year, more than doubling my income. I also moved three times- New Orleans, Dallas, and then Houston. All within a year.

7. Therapy- A little more than a year later, I suffered from a pretty serious health issue. (I believe it was directly related to my grief.) Being out of work for the surgery made me realize I was ready to go into therapy. And I did. For years, and years. I also managed my grief myself- I scheduled times to grieve, time to think about him and what happened.

So yeah, it was a tough year. To say the least. And a lot has happened since then. I've grown, I've healed, I've moved on. But I also feel like I carry this thing around with me all the time. It's like a scarlet A on my forehead that only I can see.

Back to my original question- why write about this, now and in this way?

I feel like I'm letting the universe know the answer (or actually part of the answer) to some of the questions that have been asked of me over the years...

* Why haven't you married yet?

* When you are in a relationship, why do you work so hard to hold on to it, when it's so clear that it's over?

* Why did you give up alcohol for so many years?

* Why do you have such a phobia about guns?

* Why do you cry so much, and feel like you have tears behind your eyes all the time?

* Why didn't you ever go back to an acting career, like you had intended?

* You're so laid back...how come nothing seems to faze you?

I feel like I have dealt with his death intellectually. And even emotionally (mostly). But I'm not sure if I've dealt with it physically. Meaning, that it does feel like this tragedy is somehow imprinted in the cells of my body. The drastic shock of that night, as if being in a very serious car accident, just banged the hell out of my body. I do feel like there's this barrel of tears deep inside of me. In some ways, writing helps with that.