Saturday, September 25, 2010


It's been a weird day.

I woke up dreaming about the man I went on two dates with a few weeks ago -- the 6-foot, 4-inch Navy Veteran who brought me a melon, the one who randomly happened upon a gig as the Dalai Lama's security guard for three weeks and ran with the bulls in Spain many years ago. He's nonchalant about all this stuff, like an organic story farm or something... these stories just grow from him.  It's amazing. He should be a writer or something (I'd been thinking something LIKE a writer's husband). I don't know. He just did something to me, this guy with the melon. He told me he wanted to sleep in a sailboat in Amsterdam in the off season some year -- lots of stuff like that and, of course, I totally imagined doing it all with him. He was a fabulous kisser, so warm and thoughtful and really strong. So I woke up thinking about rocking in this boat in Amsterdam with this guy. It felt so real, I could, like, smell the sea breeze and his T-shirt. We are supposed to be taking a break. Rather, I am supposed to be giving him space so he can get over his ex-wife who really  broke his heart three years ago. I don't know what went wrong  with his ex-wife, exactly. But it hurt him. I get it. I've had my heart mashed out with a wooden spoon by someone. It sucks. I hate it. So I was supposed to be giving him a break. We were not supposed to communicate at all until Oct. 10. But I've been feeling lonely -- and there's this issue with Facebook. He has quite a few beautiful female friends. One is a plus-sized model. He comments on her photos and tells her how sexy and beautiful she is. She took a photo of herself with him as her profile picture. Those of you who think I sound like a Facebook stalker just shut up. If you're on Facebook and you like someone, you're totally checking out whose wall he is commenting on and what she looks like in her other photos. Don't lie about it.

So this morning I woke up in Amsterdam in this guy's arms, smelling his T-shirt and everything ; except I realized that I wasn't in his arms at all. I wasn't even in Amsterdam. I was in Ypsilanti, sleeping in this twin bed that used to belong to my roommate's sister. And now she's in a convent. No kidding, she joined the order of nuns that was started by Mother  Teresa. If that isn't bad enough, several people have suggested that I would make a great nun! OMG, what kind of impression do I give? Seriously, if that were what God intended for me, life in a convent, I'd much rather He just went ahead and took me home Thursday afternoon when my car spun out on the Interstate.

So here I've been having this huge crush on this guy who seems pretty wonderful and I'm even dreaming about him and everything else. And the reality is, I'm sleeping in the bed of a nun. It felt so depressing. So I e-mailed him a glamor shot of myself from a few years ago, a beach shot of my back. The one who mashed my heart out with a wooden spoon took it at Lake Michigan one afternoon when we were having a picnic and messing around with the purple sand vetch. It was a little impulsive, I suppose. But I hate how so many  women post a million glamorous photos of themselves on Facebook these days. I mean it's bad enough that I've been sleeping in a nun's bed and that I gained fifty pounds in the past six months while I was trying to become a superstar insurance agent.

He didn't respond. But I checked his Facebook wall to see what he's been up to today. And now I see what's really going on. He's in love with this extremely beautiful woman who he went to high school with. She is a few years behind him. She's really, really pretty and owns her own salon. She's married but I don't think the marriage is going very well. It bothers him that she's married. He doesn't want to date a married woman (I know all this because he told me all about it the first night I met him. He said he had just bumped into her and it had made him crazy. They had been intimate many years ago and the feelings are still there. He doesn't know what to do.  But then he told me there  was just no way with her because she is married.) He's a good guy. He's just not that into me. And you know, let's face it, I might be going to live at a homeless shelter for three months -- and even if I wasn't, I've recently gained fifty pounds. I am still considering the whole homeless shelter thing. I mean I haven't ruled it out. It seems a little bit extreme but I just don't know what to do.  My faith is important to me but I am very tired of unsolicited advice from people who are more holy and/or better tweleve steppers. I sort of like imperfections in myself and other people. I used t o visit a glass factory in West Virginia to buy the vases that were blown with bubbly imperfections.  They cost a fraction of the price of the other vases and I always found them more interesting and beautiful.

Some other guys have expressed an interest in dating me and I suppose I'll just go ahead and go on some dates with some of them. It's  a bit hard. This guy was so cute and interesting! But some  of these other guys will probably be  cute and interesting, too. A few are guys who I've known at various times in my life and become reacquainted with through Facebook. They know what's going on with me -- all the drama with being ten minutes away from living in the homeless shelter.

But there are tons of guys from this free online dating site who I also could try to date.  The thing is, I wonder if I should update my profile to say something like "Homeless Hottie." Life feels a little bit over the top right now.

But St. Joseph is looking after me. Today I was dropped off for canvassing right across the street from a Shrine to St. Joseph in Grass Lake. I needed to add a layer of clothing; the day was colder than I'd anticipated. So I opened the door to go in and use the bathroom. Mass had just started. I stayed for Mass. I prayed a Rosary for my future husband. And I lit candles for the future husbands of my roommate and me. My heart's great desire  is for him to arrive before Christmas. I just don't want to go through another Christmas alone.

With regard to moving into the homeless shelter, I am just not certain what to do. I have prayed for clarity and I am sure that God will answer my prayers. A good friend of mine from Church told me she just really doesn't want me to do it. She said she knows of places where I could stay and that I could even sleep on a couch at her home for awhile If  I needed to. I told her I  also wondered if God wanted me to go and live with my Dad.I honestly just don't know what is the best thing to do yet. I'm confused.

I'm trying to find my way in this world as a divorced Catholic woman and it isn't easy. I'm not especially holy and the truth is, I don't have a huge desire to be much more holy. People who try too hard to be holy can be really irritating. I am especially irritated by the advice givers - especially those who offer advice but no practical solution.

I don't know what I'm going to do, exactly. I suppose I will be praying quite a lot about it tomorrow.  I pray because I need God, not because I want to be an especially good person. I suppose it is good to be prayerful. But I'm just not trying to win any contests to get into heaven. And I sort of think God totally understands why I woke up this morning on a boat in Amsterdam.

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