My how time flies & life changes. Especially if you are me!

It seems the last time I posted to this blog was in March. That was more than eight months ago. I was single then – and only had one cat. And wasn’t in a PhD program. And had a fulltime job. My how things change!

Less than two weeks from my last “Snow of Doom” post, I met a man. Oh, he wasn’t really a man. He was a Match.Com post. And he emailed me. I wasn’t really interested because he was old. Way old. 55! And he had white hair. And he was tall. And educated. And intellectual. And 55! He also owned a car and a company and who the heck wants that? Especially at my age? Did I mention he was 55?!? Anyway, my pal Trish talked sense into me and I emailed “old guy” back. Truth be told, “old guy” emailed my in February and I told him I was busy and to email me in one month. And he did! (Who does that?!?)

My plan was to occupy some time. My PhD program started in March and I would have liked to have dated before then. Alas, the prison guard and guy who wanted to do me even though we had no chemistry didn’t work out. The E-Harmony guys who lived in Alaska (all 120 of them) weren’t really an option. It is a known fact that God laughs at plans anyway. I get that now.

The same week I started my PhD program and was working the “Miami Conference” (appropriately named), I “met” Bill (“old guy”). By meet I mean emailed and texted and talked on the phone – just like they did in the olden days. As soon as I got back to town I met him. And he was wonderful. And after two weeks, he proposed. (Who does that?!?) Actually he proposed after 11 days but who is counting (except my “friends” who formed a Facebook page called “The 11 Day Society.” DO NOT FRIEND.)

The ring story is a hoot. Seems Bill’s Mom lied to him about her ring size. I’m a 10. Exact same size as my shoe. On a guy that might mean something. On a gal – not so sure. Hmmm. Anyway, we were at Chili’s (love the Happy Hour!) and “old guy” pulls out a ring. I ask what size it is (I wasn’t born yesterday) and he says a six (six my ass). Damn if it didn’t fit. (It was a 10 and his Mom lied.)

Long story short, we got married in May. We celebrated our six month anniversary last week. And they said it wouldn’t last.

Stay tuned because I am dying to tell y’all about my wedding (detention center “aka jail” in North Carolina) my new kitty and my PhD program. And since I now only have a halftime job (after 15 years) I just may have time (that’s another story) . I hope you do as well.

NYC & “The Snow of Doom”

As luck or fate or the Gods would have it I had to fly to New York City this past Friday.

Who doesn’t want to attend an all-day meeting on a Saturday to discuss social media? I have no idea why pr researchers and those who willingly associate with them are thought to be geeks. If you have to label us, I prefer “wonk-esque.”

Well, you know the story. Mother Nature got pissed and there was a blizzard (and an earthquake and a tsunami).

Global climate change? I don’t believe in it (Said sarcastically while rolling my eyes. You know me.)

Good thing I only had to deal with what I fondly refer to as “The Snow of Doom.” “Snowmagedon” was already trademarked.

Let me rephrase: Good thing I only had to deal with “The Snow of Doom” and it’s repercussions.

I do believe I will share.

The day started pleasantly enough.

Hell, who am I kidding?

The day started with me fielding calls and emails from my fellow travelers wondering if the meeting was still on or if all was canceled while the city hunkers-down. (Hunker-down is associated most often with hurricane-like conditions but it most acccurately reflects the seriousness of the situation. The seriousness being it affected me.)

And exactly what else would one do when it snows?

Snowball fight? Snow angels? Sledding? Sip hot chocolate by the fire? Nope. Hunker-down just feels right.

As for me, as I said, who doesn’t want to attend an all-day meeting on a Saturday to discuss social media? I was going to get to NYC come H-E-Double Curling Sticks or high water. Curling will be a topic for another day.

My direct flight from JAX to LGA was canceled. As was every direct flight from JAX to LGA. So I was put on a late afternoon flight from JAX to ATL. Late afternoon flights on a Friday are not pretty.

The young passive agressive cute couple (PACC) sitting next to me were not exactly fighting but more like sniping. I ignored them.

Eventually PACG (passive agressive cute guy) apologizes to me for their “bickering.” Oh, that’s what they were doing.

PACG said they were discussing their wedding.

I congratulated them. PACG said they weren’t engaged just discussing if they should elope or have a big wedding? WTF?

I told them to elope and have a hell of a party. Weddings are stressful. PACG said that’s what he heard. He then proceeded to chat me up for 10 minutes probably just to irritate her.

They never touched or said anything nice to each other. I wanted to shake them both and say, “if you guys are like this now what do you think you’re going to be like 10 years from now?”

Instead I put on my iPod and didn’t mind being single for once.

Sad thing is that turned out to be the less bad flight.

I can’t even bring myself to tell you what transpired on the ATL to LGA flight. It’s in the vault where hopefully it shall remain.

End of story, I got to NYC. I partied with 300 college students. I helped form the SMUG (Social Media Understanding Group – not to be confused with the Blue Man Group. The Blue Man Group are blue. We are not.)

And I reconnected with Victor.

All stories for another day.

I had an eDate – Almost

Some folks have told me I am brave for sharing my life experiences with such candor.

I don’t think I’m brave at all. I think I’m just honest.

In my office I have a print of a sinking ship. The caption reads:

MISTAKES
It Could Be That The Purpose of Your Life Is Only To Serve As A Warning To Others

That pretty much sums up my philosophy about my life. Not that I’m complaining. Shit happens to me. It always has.

Who else do you know was run over by a school bus (for pete’s sake) while walking to the bus stop on the grass, no less?

Who else do you know has had their rotator cuff torn while training police officers on how to handle folks on drugs during arrests? Yes, my performance of a teen on PCP was so convincing it required physical violence on the officer’s part. My screams of “stop you’re hurting me” were completely lost on the officer. He got a promotion. I got to wear a sling.

And that only covers a two-year period in high school. I’ve got plenty more.

Shit happens and I deal. And because of that I seem to be a bit different from other folks. (No, medication won’t help.)

Somewhere along the line, probably due to the crazy life I’ve had (I really can’t make this stuff up), I dropped my guard. I dismantled my boundaries. I lost my filters.

With me these days – what you see is what you get. Or as Popeye so eloquently states, “I am what I am.” I say what I mean and I mean what I say. Period. Ask my friends. (God bless them all for putting up with me.)

I do believe I have finally read enough self-help books, books about mid-life crisis, spiritual tomes and those “Books for Dummies” (I’ve read pretty much every one of those. “Judaism for Dummies” rocked. I was Jewish for about a week. That’s a story for another day.) for it all to sink in.

I am finally to the point in my life where I know who I am. I may not be sure of what I want to be when I grow up but at least half the battle is won.

To borrow from strategic planning lingo, I know my SWOTs (strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats). I see myself warts and all and I am now finally perfectly happy to be me. There are far worse things to be. Osama Bin Laden, Khalid Sheik Mohammed, and Glenn Beck are top of mind.

What I often forget is that other folks aren’t me. And that is not helping in the brutal world of eDating.

See, I take people at face value. Even those I don’t know.

So if you tell me after a week of nonstop communication (including emails, racy texts and phone messages saying you were thinking about me and certain parts of my anatomy) that you are cancelling our date because we lack chemistry, I’ll choose to believe you.

That’s just the kind of gal I am.

I’m not sure I’m cut out for online dating. Heck, I’m not sure I’m cut out for dating at all.

I suppose having a black eye didn’t help. That definitely is a story for another day.

Ghosts of Mardi Gras Past

I must disclose up front, I am a veteran of Mardi Gras New Orleans style from my college days at the University of Florida.

Gainesville is only 12 hours from New Orleans so we went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras every year.

Going to Mardi Gras in New Orleans was to us what going to Ft. Lauderdale was to the college kids in the 1950’s. Or so I gather from the movies I’ve seen about college kids in the 1950’s.

Only different, we didn’t wear swim suits or sing and twist or look like Annette Funicello.

Why did I end up attending Mardi Gras in Mobile?

Well, Mobile is the birthplace of Mardi Gras in the US. And I have a friend who is in a Krewe and gave me tickets to his ball. I love balls.

Technically, I have never been to a ball but since I usually feel like Cinderella I knew I would love a ball if given the chance of going.

I was wrong but more on that later.

Let’s begin with the parade. It seems a lot of folks on the parade route drink – a lot. It just so happens I did not. I didn’t need to. The reality was surreal enough.

It seems I was in the “Deliverance” section of the parade route (queue banjo music). It is Alabama after all.

Drunken folks with missing teeth wearing coveralls and talking loudly tend to catch my eye. Especially when they hoot & holler because they see the young gals with boob jobs wearing their sparkly gowns in 30 degree weather 5 feet behind them.

Interestingly enough, young girls use their breasts to obtain Mardi Gras booty. Who knew?

The parade started and the beads came flying, hard, at my face. Yes, I caught my first bead with my nose. It was a very nice bead in that it was large – very large but I thought it broke my nose.

I had a bruise but no blood so all was good. It was then I started to duck and cower and fend off beads with my hands that are now red and bruised and look like they are arthritic.

Beads can kill folks, throw them responsibly.

Now to the ball, the first float on the parade route got a flat and delayed the rest of the floats for a long period. This gave the guys on the floats a longer time to drink.

That’s what they do on the float. They drink and throw crap at people.

The ball was pretty much the same. Drinking and throwing crap at people.

Oh. Food was served. Garters were put on and taken off. Folks passed out. Some guy gave me a thong. And I danced.

I’ll be back next year.

Does it suck to be me? The jury is still out

Here’s my take on the glamorous world of eDating to date.

You can take that statement both literally and figuratively.

I’ve been on eHarmony for almost a year now and have only been matched 129 times.

You may think that sounds like a lot but remember there are approximately 4,325,287 participants of which one-third must be male. That’s 129 matches out of 1,441,762.33 potential matches.

That’s like 0%. That’s less than 0%.

Lord knows I’m not a numbers gal (I am in communication after all) but that figure is in negative territory. Can it really be me?

And why is it that out of my 129 matches, 127 reside in Alaska? One lives in Hawaii. The last in Washington State. Am I really not compatible with anyone in the Eastern, Central or Mountain Time Zones?

While eHarmony is less than inspiring , Match.com is exhausting.

It’s like the Wild, Wild West of the eDating world. All this wink-ing & favorite-ing & Top 5-ing. Thank God there isn’t a “pinch” button because I think I’d be black and blue.

I’ve only been on Match for a few weeks and I have already been viewed 190 times, winked at 34 times and have been sent 19 emails. So I feel the odds, if not the Gods, might favor me on this one.

My pal Angie just turned me on to sciconnect.com. which according to Forbes magazine is “A brainy love connection catering to those with a passion for science and nature.”

This is straight from their web site:

Why are we here? The world is a crowded Petri dish, and yet for those of an intellectual bent who happen to be single, it’s not easy, especially past university age, to find that certain microbe for a great symbiotic relationship. Enter Science Connection.

I couldn’t resist.

Here’s a taste:

107737,48,S,178cm,165, Physics prof; teach thermo, quantum mechs, medical imaging. I bike, ski, hike, travel the world, love classical and folk music, write fiction, esp. satire. I’m shy & introspective in person, expansive in prose. Like to meet science women with similar non-sci interests. Kids OK, especially in their curious years. Cheney, WA

Indeed.

Should a grown man reveal that kids are OK, especially in their “curious” years? And should a woman with a kid (in curious years or not) date him?

Am I thinking of joining?

Let’s just say so far the only real date I have been asked out on was by “prison guy” (works there not incarcerated as far as I know) who mixes tenses like nobody’s business.

At moments like this, being single doesn’t seem to be too bad of an option after all.

Exactly Who Am I? Crafting your Match.com Personal Statement

One of the hardest parts of setting up an online profile on Match.com is writing your personal statement. eHarmony doesn’t require a personal statement. You just have to answer 2,736 questions. It took me about three weeks to complete that questionnaire.

After you answer the standard demographic information (height, body type, hair & eye color, etc.) you have to include an essay describing who you are and what you are looking for.

You’re basically selling yourself. (Not to be confused with pimping yourself out which is completely inappropriate.) Some would call it marketing. It could even be referred to as public relations because we are trying to build relationships after all.

And you have to be able to do it in short pithy prose. Guys want to laugh without having to exert too much effort. No offense to you males out there. But that is the truth.

You need to be honest but not too honest that you scare folks off. Until you get to know me personally, you don’t need to know I have an intestinal parasite (as do almost 2.5 million people in the US annually according to the CDC). So I left that out.

Including photos of yourself is very important. No one wants to have to “Request My Photo” from someone they don’t know. What is that even about? Exactly how ugly are you? Have you not seen some of the photos posted? Could yours possibly be WORSE?

Middle-aged white guys seem to like having their pictures taken on boats and motorcycles and while holding freshly caught fish and dead animals.

I have seen enough photos of middle-aged men on boats and motorcycles and while holding freshly caught fish and dead animals to last me a lifetime. And I’ve only been doing this for a few weeks.

So, I’ve answered the required questions, written my personal statement and posted some photos (sans boats, motorcycles, fish or dead animals). I guess it’s time to kick back and let the eDating begin.

A part of my profile is posted is below. I’ll let you know what happens.

About my life and what I’m looking for

What does a bleeding heart liberal with a wild side look like? Like me.

I am a professional who works in the nonprofit sector and am passionate about making the world a better place – so much so that I am working on a PhD in public policy & administration.

I’m just passionate in general. Folks tell me I’m exuberant. I have lots of energy and believe that no matter what you do, there should be some element of fun to it. My daughter says my laugh is obnoxious. My friends say it’s infectious.

I’m not looking for a husband. I had one of those. I want a man who is comfortable in his own skin and knows what he wants out of life. If you enjoy laughing, music, good wine, adventure and excitement, then I’m your gal.

For the record, I believe adventure and excitement can be found everywhere – inside a home as well as outside of it.

If you have an open mind and an open heart and the ability to laugh at yourself, share your thoughts and feelings and talk about the inane as well as the important, then I’d love to meet you.

Life is what you make of it and I want to make it worth living. Want to join me?

My Venture Into the World of eDating

It seems when you get to be my age (mid-40s) most folks are married. Some on their first marriage, a greater percentage on their second marriage and some are on their third marriage or more, poor bastards. (God love them for keeping the faith.)

Now that I am ready to venture into the post-divorce dating world, I can’t meet a single guy to save my soul. Let me clarify that. I can’t meet a guy who is single to save my soul. Married men I meet all the time.

Piece of advice: married men should not date – unless the date is with your wife. That’s a post for another day.

Most of my pals can’t help me because they are married – as are their friends – and their friends. You get the idea. It’s a big vicious circle of married people (not that there is anything wrong with that).

So I am doing the next best thing to actual dating. I am eDating.

Fine. I haven’t had a real eDate yet. (Is that an oxymoron?) I hope to eDate.

I started with eHarmony to very limited success. (Read: no success or I wouldn’t have to keep trying.) I just signed on with Match.com.

I invite you to join me as I experience the joys, sorrows and utter hell of meeting men online. Which I guess isn’t really that much different from the utter hell of meeting men in real life.

I’ll compare and contrast the two sites and share with you lessons learned and what I am sure will be amusing stories. (My life seems to be an amusing story most days.)

I am doing this for you, gentle reader. So you will not have to learn these lessons on your own. (Yes, I am a giver.)

Oh, Jim from Alaska just sent me a communication on eHarmony. And I got winked at 5 times on Match (not that I know what that means.) Who is Sexy 16254? Why is someone I don’t know IM-ing me?

Stay tuned. This should be fun. In a really weird way.

Happy White Girl: The Story

As with most things in my life, there is a story behind the name of this blog.

When I was an undergrad at the University of Florida, I lived in the Student Ghetto.  (I believe it’s called College Park these days. As my pal Jen would say – how fancy!)

While walking through the neighborhood one day, I passed an elderly african-american gentleman who was sitting in a chair in his front yard.

As I strolled past him he looked at me and said, “My. Aren’t you just a happy white girl.”

I thought for a second before I turned to him and replied, “Yes. Why yes I am.”

That was a defining moment for me. An “AH-HA!” moment, if you will.

From that day on, I have always thought of myself in those terms. I AM a happy white girl. Nothing more. Nothing less.

No matter how challenging my life has gotten (and Lord knows it has gotten pretty gosh darn challenging at times) I have survived it by asking myself, “Now how would a happy white girl handle this?” I have then tried to act accordingly.

In this blog I will share with you snapshots of my life – the good, the bad and the funny.

You will hear all about my daughter, my divorce and rebuilding my life at middle-age. If you are really lucky I’ll even tell you about Pixie – my intestinal parasite.

Life can be messy but that doesn’t mean you can’t laugh while you are cleaning it up.