Seriously, where does my mind go?
I was actually thinking about how much I liked those little note cards, magnets and tchotchkes that feature images of 1950s era women with little sarcastic comments. Two of my favorites are "I've lost my virginity but I still have the box it came in!" and "I've given up sex for food, now I can't even get into my own pants." So, this lead to me thinking about how all my gay male friends seem to appreciate this sarcastic self-deprecating humor as much as I do.
That got me thinking about how while online dating I thought I'd use my profile in a blog-like fashion to poke fun at online dating. My first post poked fun at how many women seemed to post pictures taken ages ago. I asked how many used a Kodak Instamatic and 110 film and then made reference to mullets.
That's all it took to unleash the wrath of several dozen disgruntled lesbians (many of whom I'll bet have mullets). Geeze...I thought, can't we poke fun at ourselves?
Online dating is interesting, to say the least. I was very specific in my original profile, mentioning that I enjoy the arts, music, opera, decorating, cooking, etc and that I was interested in ladies who shared the same interests. I also stated that while I liked the out-of-doors, I'm not a camper and much prefer a romantic bed and breakfast.
So...who chose to respond to my post? An ex-Marine auto mechanic with a motorcycle who loves to camp and fish and watch football. Apparently, she's not much into reading - well, profiles at least. Mind you, I certainly don't mind sitting down to enjoy an occasional football game and plan to watch the Spartans kick Georgia's butt tomorrow, and I have pictures of me with the HUGE bass I caught in New Hampshire, my preference is toward activities that are associated with upper middle class, executive wives from the 60s and 70s. Baby, I mix a mean martini and throw a great dinner party. Not only can I pick out colors and fabrics, I relish in doing so. I'd love to have season tickets to the symphony and opera. I am a member of the Grand Rapids Art Museum and the Urban Institute of Contemporary Arts. And each May I have a 15 year-standing date with my friend Robert to tour the Parade of Homes.
Living here in the midwest makes finding a woman with similar interests kind of challenging. Which lead me to a wonderful woman who lived in Salt Lake. Silly, I know. I'm certainly not swimming in money nor do I have oodles of vacation time. Long distance dating took it's toll on the both of us. Sadly we've moved on.
I found it interesting when perusing the dating site to see how lesbians have changed through the years. If you search by age you absulutely notice that with each passing decade, the stereotypes seem to be fading away. When I was first coming out two decades or so ago, I thought that I had to change from the woman I knew to be me to a "Lesbian" version of myself. Sure does make for some great laughter when going through the photo albums. One thing I learned, 1-inch-long hair is really easy to maintain!
I finally found my way back to me. And regardless of how politically incorrect it may be, "me" is just a girl. A regular old girl who doesn't mind stereotypical girl activities yet is independent enough to manage on her own (I used to change my oil and spark plugs and I can lay tile, fix a sink and build a wall).
Seriously, all I've ever really wanted is the spouse, the kids and the white picket fence. I would make a wonderful executive housewife. I just can't seem to find my executive wife. Where are the Bettes and Tinas of the world? Perhaps they only exist on Showtime.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
MiMi is 4
I got a photo Christmas card from my long time friend Sara. Almost three years ago Sara and her husband went to Kazakhstan to adopt a little girl and they came home with Karima, nicknamed MiMi.
Three years ago. Hmmm. I can't believe that three years has passed since I received the call to get ready to bring home my daughter. I went shopping. I bought cute little girl clothes in size 3 and 4 T. I found a set of toilet tissue girl prints on eBay just like the ones that adorned my walls when I was a girl. I found a little quilt with small pink rosebuds on Overstock. I filled two suitcases with clothes and gifts to distribute to the children in the orphanage in Kazakhstan.
Then I got a call from the agency which asked if I'd be willing to accept a boy or girl. I went out again and bought some little boy clothes. I could always change the quilt and trade the toilet tissue girls for pictures of puppies or trains.
I continued to practice my Russian phrases. "ya hot syla buy ah main yah drug eye yah comb nit ah" I'd repeat. "I'd like a less expensive room." "Good zee ya bureau pahg main ah va loot ee yah?" "Where is the currency exchange office." "Good zee ya vahg zow?" "Where is the train station?"
When I tightened my lap belt and finished listening to the flight attendant tell me to put on my oxygen mask before assisting others, I settled down enough to actually BELIEVE I had done it. I was finally going to be a mom. I had gotten through all the paperwork. I was approved. The coordinator had identified children at an orphanage. I was going to meet my child. Until, like Humpty Dumpty, it all came tumbling down.
And my heart was broken. Shattered into a million tiny little pieces that I'm still struggling to collect.
The flight home was long. On board were three couples with their new children. I watched as if I wasn't really there. The parents traveling for the first time with a new little one. Juggling the documents, the child, the toys, the bottles, the blankets. I smiled trying to share their joy. Playing peek-a-boo with the round faced, brown eyed, 14-month-old across the aisle as her red-headed, freckle faced, blue eyed parents, fussed all over her. Excited to be bringing their new little lass back to Ireland.
Shortly afterward Sara and Al headed to Kazakhstan to meet Karima. All went well through their process. Luck of the agency draw, I guess. I'm thrilled for them and can't believe how quickly time has gone by and how big MiMi has become.
And I wonder, will this aching in my heart ever go away?
Three years ago. Hmmm. I can't believe that three years has passed since I received the call to get ready to bring home my daughter. I went shopping. I bought cute little girl clothes in size 3 and 4 T. I found a set of toilet tissue girl prints on eBay just like the ones that adorned my walls when I was a girl. I found a little quilt with small pink rosebuds on Overstock. I filled two suitcases with clothes and gifts to distribute to the children in the orphanage in Kazakhstan.
Then I got a call from the agency which asked if I'd be willing to accept a boy or girl. I went out again and bought some little boy clothes. I could always change the quilt and trade the toilet tissue girls for pictures of puppies or trains.
I continued to practice my Russian phrases. "ya hot syla buy ah main yah drug eye yah comb nit ah" I'd repeat. "I'd like a less expensive room." "Good zee ya bureau pahg main ah va loot ee yah?" "Where is the currency exchange office." "Good zee ya vahg zow?" "Where is the train station?"
When I tightened my lap belt and finished listening to the flight attendant tell me to put on my oxygen mask before assisting others, I settled down enough to actually BELIEVE I had done it. I was finally going to be a mom. I had gotten through all the paperwork. I was approved. The coordinator had identified children at an orphanage. I was going to meet my child. Until, like Humpty Dumpty, it all came tumbling down.
And my heart was broken. Shattered into a million tiny little pieces that I'm still struggling to collect.
The flight home was long. On board were three couples with their new children. I watched as if I wasn't really there. The parents traveling for the first time with a new little one. Juggling the documents, the child, the toys, the bottles, the blankets. I smiled trying to share their joy. Playing peek-a-boo with the round faced, brown eyed, 14-month-old across the aisle as her red-headed, freckle faced, blue eyed parents, fussed all over her. Excited to be bringing their new little lass back to Ireland.
Shortly afterward Sara and Al headed to Kazakhstan to meet Karima. All went well through their process. Luck of the agency draw, I guess. I'm thrilled for them and can't believe how quickly time has gone by and how big MiMi has become.
And I wonder, will this aching in my heart ever go away?
Why?
Why? That's a loaded question isn't it? Why is the grass green? Why do I have to do my homework? Why do I sometimes feel like a hamster on a wheel? Why am I writting a blog?
Simply to purge the grey matter.
I always have conversations running around my head. The world around me can be perfectly quiet but inside my mind it's a total cacophony of weird and random thoughts. Sometimes they come bursting forth through my mouth startling not only me, but those around me. To them, the thoughts have nothing to do with the topic at hand. To me, it had everything to do with something. Maybe it was a name that was said that brought me to someone I knew 30 years ago who's favorite color was red and favorite meal was spaghetti which reminded me of our trip to Rome when I was twelve and how I fell in love with sculpture which then lead to the really cool kinetic sculptures at the Meijer Garden which I'd love to have and incorporate them into my new condo if only I could sell my house which made me think of how some people think that the color I painted my house was purple rather than spirit blue which then came blurting out as "it's soooo NOT purple!"
"Huh?" they all say in unison. "What's not purple?"
I'm thinking that it might be good to purge. It might be good to get these random thoughts out of my head and into the blogosphere where they might pique thoughts in someone elses head or they may just wander forever through time online until some future anthropologist who, while working on their distertation about the habits of humans in the 21st century, discovers this blog and creates meaning for it.
Who knows.
Simply to purge the grey matter.
I always have conversations running around my head. The world around me can be perfectly quiet but inside my mind it's a total cacophony of weird and random thoughts. Sometimes they come bursting forth through my mouth startling not only me, but those around me. To them, the thoughts have nothing to do with the topic at hand. To me, it had everything to do with something. Maybe it was a name that was said that brought me to someone I knew 30 years ago who's favorite color was red and favorite meal was spaghetti which reminded me of our trip to Rome when I was twelve and how I fell in love with sculpture which then lead to the really cool kinetic sculptures at the Meijer Garden which I'd love to have and incorporate them into my new condo if only I could sell my house which made me think of how some people think that the color I painted my house was purple rather than spirit blue which then came blurting out as "it's soooo NOT purple!"
"Huh?" they all say in unison. "What's not purple?"
I'm thinking that it might be good to purge. It might be good to get these random thoughts out of my head and into the blogosphere where they might pique thoughts in someone elses head or they may just wander forever through time online until some future anthropologist who, while working on their distertation about the habits of humans in the 21st century, discovers this blog and creates meaning for it.
Who knows.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
