Should I just get a giant sign that reads, "Scapegoat available cheap. Married once to [name withheld]. Had two small children. Forever a fuck-up. Stay away at all costs."

It appears I should. Maybe it would save us all some time and heartache. I seem to once again be a burden, nothing more than the product of all my mistakes. Fuck this world. I guess the best I have will never be good enough for anyone.

Where do I start. It's nice to be here alone in the house. So often I am not physically alone, but alone in the loneliest sense, as in ignored, as in alone in couple-dom. Not only is there silence, but subterfuge. It's the little lies of omission that are killing me now. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I'm hard to talk to, maybe I don't listen... I ask. He just doesn't answer. Maybe I should just ask his mother. He tells her everything, even the things that he shouldn't.

And the lack of talking leads to a lack of trust leads to a lack of marriage. There's no love in a vacuum. And certainly no talking.

Yesterday I spent some time reading through all of my previous posts and it's amazing to me how much I feel I have grown since I first began this blog. It's fun to see little images I captured of my mind at different moments in time, and I think keeping this blog has helped me to make sense of all of those divergent moments. Sometimes I wonder why I don't keep it all secret, tucked away in a journal for my eyes only, but I think the accountability of the public nature of this helps me keep my thoughts on a more even keel. If I journaled for only myself I could certainly vent more, but would that be healthy? I think not.

My eclectic assortment of friends has helped me to realize that my odd thoughts are perhaps not as odd as I imagine them to be. Even though most of my friends are older than I, they still have some of the same personal issues I face. I had thought some of the "who am I" and "where am I going" questions would be obsolete as you entered the 5th or 6th decade of life, but instead the questions linger as we change from one stage of life to the next. It seems we are forever becoming and not being.

Also, I am unashamed, though not necessarily proud, of all my various posts. Some of them are more personal than others, but none are false--I own every feeling that I presented. I'm just glad I have grown out of some of them.

The good news is, you can become anything you'd like in this life. And there is plenty of time for just being when we are cold and lifeless. Many fear death and waste their lives worrying over the end. As for me, I want to spend this time becoming what is my fate and enjoying every minute of it, dancing from ear to ear.

I know I've been in love before. I loved and have been loved.

And it all falls away, paled in comparison to the new color that the world takes on when he is with me.

I know I've walked down this path before, but it seems the destination has changed this time. I want him with me here, now, forever. I want to lay in the grass with him and watch the clouds go by. I want to see him across the table from me in the morning, every morning, as the years slide into memories. I want to see his gentle hands cradle a newborn baby, our baby, on its first day of life.

I can't think of anything but his love.

Indeed, I'm in love and it's a sunny day. And the good news is he loves me too!

We had a great time in San Diego. We went to ComicCon, strolled around Gaslamp, Seaport Village and La Jolla, and had some fabulous meals. I had oysters for the first time and they're actually pretty good despite their slimy reputation. But maybe part of the appeal was the teacher...

I spent last night at his place. Mmmm. I don't even know what to say about it. I am so in love. And it's a sunny day.

Go Mets! The Professor and I went to one of the Dodgers/Mets games. It was a lot of fun. He met me here for breakfast, then the game, then we went for sushi. But it ended the same way as always: a kiss or two and a hug and goodbye. So I emailed him the next morning:

And he sent me back:

The Professor gets better and better. I am so in love. He said I was sexy last night. And we finally hit upon why he's not married--bad timing awards indeed. Two candidates were currently married, the other was hopelessly in love with his best friend. And he does want kids of his own. I'm down with that.

We talked for more than 2 hours about everything from love to Seinfeld to astrophysics to opera to baseball to politics to math to career paths and crossword puzzles. He asked if I had any more pictures of myself. Being the person I am, I asked why did he need pictures? And he said he has people asking questions about me. So you know that means he talks about me. I don't think I've stopped smiling since last night. And I sure didn't sleep; I can't get him out of my mind.

So he definitely wants to spend Sunday with my kids and me. We've planned brunch and a movie or a trip to the museum. It depends on the kids. I am so happy!

Love. Love is a beautiful thing. Stars and music and wine and company. Beauty abounds. I was giddy on the way home, drunk on the flood of new love. English is my new favorite class, Professor. He even got me a birthday present.


As is life and love always. Irony abounds. A coat of gray covers the black and white layers of meaning.

And who ever thought the best advice I'd get would come from a 51-year-old death-metal record producer? My Obi-Wan. One of the world's most unassuming wise men, mistaken for a homeless person by more than one person at the coffee shop, proves yet again that you can't judge a book by its cover.

I can't sleep, thinking only of him and our next meeting and the possibilities: what to say, what to wear, what to do. Punctuation and sex and baseball swirl through my mind. He is what I wanted. He wants to spend time with my kids and me this weekend. He is amazing.

Professor, I'm yours.

After following my sister-in-law's advice and kissing some toads, I think I may have found a prince. He's a college English professor, 42, cute, athletic, wants kids, and wants to get married. He's funny and smart, and we have such a good time together. Our phone calls easily go 2 or 3 hours. There are also lots of odd intersections in our lives: he has a minor in astrophysics and loves astronomy, he bird-watches, he bakes, he gardens, he reads (of course), he moved here about the same time I did, and we have many of the same mannerisms and figures of speech. Sometimes I feel as though I'm looking in a mirror because, although he looks different, he acts the same way I do. I've never met anyone like that before. We also like the same TV shows and movies. And we laugh at the same things.

I've never been with someone so much older than me before, but it's nice. The only way I notice that he's older is that he's actually grown-up unlike the other guys that I've been with. He seems ready for kids and marriage and love. But he is by no means old. He's just at a different place in his life than the last long-term boyfriend or my ex. He still has friends, is dedicated to his job, and has hobbies, but he seems to really want to have companionship and family like I do. And he is so considerate and generous and patient and kind. Did I mention that I really like this guy?

So we've been on 4 dates so far (Old Town Pasadena-lunch and a movie, The Huntington Library, my house-lunch, his house-lunch, dinner and a movie), but he's only kissed me 6 times. At first I was kinda concerned that maybe he wasn't interested, but I think he's just reserved. I finally emailed him after the last date, saying:


And he replied:


Our last date was a long one--11am to 7:30pm--cut off only by his work. I didn't want to go. Part of me wanted to ask him about his past, part of me wanted him to just take me and kiss me all over. It's like I was just waiting for one or the other to happen, and finally as I stood up and walked to the door, he stopped me in the kitchen and kissed me about 3 times before pulling away as if he needed to stop himself. And then that was it. But he ends his emails with X's and O's and we've already made plans for my birthday next weekend (He's packing a picnic lunch for us to take to the concert my brother bought me tickets to). He is so sweet.

But, of course, there are so many things we haven't covered yet. He smokes, for one. I know he does only because I can smell it sometimes, but I don't know what it is that he smokes. Cigars? Cigarettes? Hookah? Pot? I just don't know. And then there is why he has never been married. We haven't talked about our age difference, or the fact that we live an hour apart, or really how he feels about my kids and if he wants his own. But, personally, I don't foresee any of those as being deal-breakers.

One of our major differences is political. He calls himself "very liberal" but most things that he's told me aren't much different from my own beliefs. I think perhaps libertarianism strikes again. Another difference is in our life experiences. He's traveled all over, he's a formerly very pious Jew from Long Island (now agnostic), he's held many jobs (school teacher, camp counselor, negotiator, professor), and has lived all over. While I have done those few things that he hasn't--gotten married and had kids. I'm a bit intimidated by his worldliness, but I think he is equally nervous around me as he is constantly twiddling something in his hands. That's one of the other reasons that I believe he likes me--I make him nervous. If he didn't like me then he wouldn't care what I thought, so he wouldn't be nervous.

I'll admit, it's odd for me to have been seeing someone for almost a month (first date was June 10th) and not gone further than first base, but I like it. I think it will be all the more rewarding to wait. I'm excited now for my birthday. I wasn't before. Now I get to spend time with a guy who is willing first to make me lunch and then drive out here and then see a band he doesn't know. And the music will be so romantic, and the setting beautiful... I'm more than ecstatic that I get to spend it with him.

I think I'm falling in love with this guy. And I think that's a good thing.

So it's official. I am single, completely divorced, and ready for something new. As of today, my divorce is FINALLY final. After almost three years, countless arguments, and piles of wasted money, I am truly free and untied.

I think I expected a bluebird to land on my shoulder, and the world to break into song. Oh well, I guess we aren't in Oklahoma.

As Pinocchio says: