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adventures in dating (or come over)


I love country music. Handsome country artists sing songs of love and wanting.  They beg me to come over, come over, come over.  They let me know how much they want to make me feel wanted.

Kenny Chesney's Come Over

When Kenny Chesney sings, it feels like his lyricist spills my life onto sheet music.

We don’t have to miss each other, come over

We don’t have to fix each other, come over

We don’t have to say forever, come over

You don’t have to stay forever, come over

Hunter Hayes sings of making me feel wanted more poetically than any man I’ve dated.

As good as you make me feel

I wanna make you feel better

Better than your fairy tales

Better than your best dreams

You’re more than everything I need

You’re all I ever wanted

Luke Bryan knows the words I long to hear.  When he sings about how he doesn’t want this night to end, it reminds me of all the nights I didn’t want to end.

Jake Owen tells me, I know it would kill me if I fall, I can’t be alone with you.  And it makes me want someone who’ll fall for me.

Josh Turner and Keith Urban make me believe in forever.  Chris Young makes me fall in love every time he croons another line.

I love country music but it’s killing my love life.  These handsome crooners set the bar high.  Higher than the men who’ve touched my life so far.

When I find a man who can sail over that, I’m keeping him.

There’s a want and there’s a need

There’s a history between

Girls like her and guys like me

Cowboys and angels

Hey, cowboy.  You’re angel’s waiting.

adventures in dating (or my heart opener)


yoga fish pose on beach

yoga fish pose

It’s been over a year since I started dating Coach.  I’ve been thinking about those days a lot lately.  Remembering how afraid I was.  Afraid of being hurt.  Afraid of trusting the wrong man.  Afraid of loving again.

I read Holly Sidell’s article, He’s Not The One, around that time.  Told myself Coach isn’t the one.  He isn’t the one. He. Isn’t. The. One.

The mantra did nothing to stop me from falling for him.

I remember trying to relax enough to enjoy the little time I had with him.  He lived an hour away, and traveled three weekends out of four.  For speaking engagements.  Trips to Colorado to see his boys.

Actually, being with Coach was always easy.  The doubts only crept in when he was gone.  Which was most of the time.

I didn’t realize how hard I was fighting to keep my heart protected.

About a month after we started dating, I was in yoga class.  It was a chest opening class.

The first pose was supported fish pose.  Lying on our backs, a block under the back of our head and a second block under our upper back, chest extended up to the ceiling.  There is no way to lie in a fish pose without exposing your heart.  Literally and figuratively.

Not an easy pose for someone who’d spent the last month trying to hide her heart.

As I lay in supported fish pose that morning, I felt a physical and spiritual ache as my heart opened up.  Tears slid out of the corners of my eyes into my hairline.

I struggled through that entire class.  The supported fish pose was just the first in a string of chest opening poses.

In trying to protect my spiritual heart, my body automatically curved in, protecting my physical heart.

Chest openers provide the physical opening, exposing the spiritual heart to the light as well.

Self-knowledge comes slowly to me.  Slowly and usually painfully.

It took a few more classes before I put all the pieces together.  Lying in another supported fish pose, in another class, I thought my way through what my heart was trying to tell me.

I could relax and enjoy my time with Coach.  Risk my heart. Trust myself to survive if it didn’t work out.

Or I could continue to make myself miserable with worry, afraid of a heartache that may never come, and never allowing myself to enjoy time with a smart, funny man.

In the end, Coach was not my life mate, the one I’m destined to spend the rest of my life with.

But he was an important step in my development.  Dating him taught me many things.  Things like trusting my gut, that still small voice that speaks to each of us. Whether we choose to listen to it or not.

The most important lesson, that I can fall in love and survive.  I am strong.  I am resilient.

I can choose love.  Because I know if it doesn’t work out, I’ll still be okay.

What do you choose?

adventures in dating (or no adventures, no dating)


Everyone's in a relationship and I'm just sitting here like "....I love my dog."

My lungs are still leading a revolution.  Each day, I accomplish the bare minimum required to sustain work and life.  Thank goodness The Genius is 16 and self-sufficient!

I’m spending the majority of my time lying in bed doing my impersonation of Doc Holliday in Tombstone.

Cough. Cough. Cough.

Val Kilmer did a much better job of it than I am!

Seems like as good a time as any to update my dating site profiles.  New pictures, new descriptions, new batch of potential dates.

I haven’t met anyone new on the dating sites since I started dating Nature Boy.  My last first date was someone I’ve known for years.  Somehow dating someone from a dating site is less pressure – if it doesn’t work out, you never see him again.  No harm.  No foul.

I remind myself that’s how I met Coach, who I dated for four months. Coach who catches better than any man I’ve ever dated.  Coach who has started texting again.  From Colorado.

You are still so very pretty girl.

Somehow when he says it, I believe it.

Take note, Universe:  I’m ready for another beau.  One who makes me feel the good things I felt with Coach and Nature Boy.  And maybe some good things I haven’t felt yet.

Just as soon as I can get through a sentence without coughing on one.

adventures in dating (or here comes the rubber band man)


men are from mars women are from venus

I’ve been reading Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus by John Gray, Ph.D.  For some reason, reading Gray’s theories about men and women make me as prickly as a porcupine.  Men are strong, silent types who have to solve their own problems. Women are clingy, drama queens who just need to sit in your lap for a few minutes to make their problems go away.  Seriously?

The only chapter that makes sense to me is the chapter about men being like rubber bands.  They get close to a woman, realize the level of intimacy is too strong for their comfort, and then run as far away as their rubber band will allow.

If we women do not chase after them (with phone calls, texts, emails), eventually, they will realize they miss us and bounce back to us with even stronger feelings than they had before.

I don’t know if that is true or not.  But I do know one night, Nature Boy told me he could live the rest of his life on air and my touch. Then the next morning, he yelled a lot, ran down the stairs, jumped over the doggy gate and got bitten by my sweet Rocky dog, never to be seen again.

I tried calling him after that, tried to figure out what went wrong, tried to assure him I didn’t want more than he was willing to give.

Then, I gave up.

A couple of weeks passed, then the text.  Have a great day.

Then a few days later, a phone call.  Hey, what are you up to?

About a week later, a phone call about his computer freezing up.  He doesn’t know what to do.  “Bring it to me,” I say.  “I’ll fix it.”

Do you ever wonder, when you haven’t seen someone in a while, if you were missing them, or just missing being with someone?

I was missing him. 

Do you ever wonder, if you come back together again, will it still be as comfortable? As peaceful?  As exciting?

It was.

We spent the evening together, downloading anti-virus programs, updating his security settings, basic computer fixes.  Went out for sushi while we waited on updates.  Laughed and talked about anything and everything.

When he kissed me at the end of the night, it was like that first kiss all over again.

Boing.  Rubber band man is back.

Another week passed, with calls (from him to me, not vice versa), and another meeting to give his computer back.

And now he’s MIA again.  Guess he’s trying to outrun the rubber band again.

Question:  Have you read Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus?  What’s your take on Gray’s theories?

live your dreams or live your fears


In this small Southern town I live in, everyone knows everyone.  Everywhere I go, chances are good I’ll see someone I know.

beautiful Southern sunset over the May River

Darryl is a server at two of my favorite restaurants.  We also run into each other in the evening at other restaurants and at the Farmer’s Market.

(Farmer’s Market is a pretty big deal around here.  We do it Southern style, which means that in addition to fresh fruits and vegetables there’s also live music, fried shrimp, and the crepe lady who is really and truly French.)

Darryl always asks how I’m doing.  I always tell him I’m doing great.  For two reasons, really.  Great is my standard answer to how I’m doing.  And I usually am doing great.

One day at The Cottage, after I told him I was doing great, his response was, “Living the dream?”

I assured him I was.  And I am living the dream.  I have an incredible life.  Counting my blessings could take all week!

I asked him if he was living the dream, and he responded that he was dreaming the life.

I wonder how many of us dream the life instead of live the dream.  What holds us back from living the dream?

A few days ago I was reading something by Joyce Meyers that talked about living your fears.  It made me think of Darryl, who’s dreaming the life instead of living the dream.

What’s your dream?  Are you living it yet?  Or just dreaming about it?

If you’re still just dreaming about it, what’s holding you back?

I have a friend who wants to be an author.  Every year, the goal of writing a book is on the resolution list.  He’s a successful attorney with two beautiful children, but he still has a dream.

I don’t know Darryl well enough to ask him what his dream is, but I know from his answer that he isn’t living it yet.

No matter how old you are, it’s never too late to live the dream.

Salsa dancing at 84 like abuelita, my friend’s mother.

Kayaking at 55 like my friend Denise.

Starting a blog and writing my first book.

Riding a zip line and whitewater rafting.

This year has been my year of living the dream!

I wish I could take everyone by the hand and drag them into the dream with me.  But it’s a step you have to take for yourself.

Question:  Are you living your dream?  Or living your fear?  Living the dream?  Or dreaming the life?

adventures in dating (or there is none like you)


I struggle with the desire to find the perfect mate.  The perfect person to understand me, touch me, love me.

Dance with God and He will let the perfect man cut in.

A soul mate, if you will.  The one.

That perfect person to be by my side, through life’s ups and downs.

This is a struggle I share with many of my single friends.

As I was getting ready for church last Sunday morning, I turned Pandora on to the Praise and Worship Radio.  Before the music started playing, a song popped into my head.

“There is none like you.  No one else can touch my heart like you do.  I could search for all eternity Lord, and find there is none like you.”

A scant second later, Michael W. Smith sang the echoing refrain to my heart’s song.

“There is none like you.  No one else can touch my heart like you do.  I could search for all eternity Lord, and find there is none like you.”

They say the Holy Spirit speaks to you if you’re listening.  I haven’t had many of those moments in my life.  As soon as I heard those words surrounding me in perfect harmony, I felt God’s presence, heard God’s message.

I can search for all eternity, and there’s only one man who can touch my heart the way I need it to be touched.

Only one man who understands me.

Loves me unconditionally.

I stood in my shower that morning and sobbed.  Tears of grief for all the years I tried to make my husband that soul mate.  Tears of frustration for all the men I’ve cried for because they weren’t who I needed or wanted.

Sobbed with the realization that God is my soul mate.  Or at least, He wants to be.  If I’ll only let him.

Question:  Has God ever spoken to you?  How did His words come through to your heart?

adventures in dating (or be careful who you text)


Ah the joys of texting!  Instant communication.  No rewind button!  I’m sure all of us have texted the wrong person at least once.  I know I have!

woman texting on blackberry

One Saturday morning after yoga, I was multi-tasking.  Making a fried egg and hash brown breakfast and texting my best friend in Colorado on my Blackberry.  Because the Blackberry limits the number of characters each text could contain, and I am very wordy, I had to keep going back to her text and replying to continue my story.

Her husband is a very focused guy Monday through Thursday night.  Come Friday, his focus shifts from work to his sweet, sexy wife.

My text to my friend start out by saying I thought my new guy might be a lot like her husband.  Last weekend, he was very attentive.  Lots of texting while he was out of town on a business trip.  A couple of phone calls, too.

When it was time to send the second half of the text, I scrolled down, hit reply and typed, “I thought he was losing interest this week, but he sure seemed interested enough last night!”

I finished up my breakfast as I waited for her reply.  As I was sitting down at the breakfast table, I checked my phone to make sure the message had sent.

It sent alright.  Much to my everlasting chagrin, it didn’t go to my girlfriend. I sent it to the new guy as a reply to the last text he’d sent to me.

My immediate response was to delete the text from my phone.  As if that would make it disappear from his phone, too.  If only life were that easy!

After banging my head on the table for a minute or two, I grabbed the bull by the horn. (Like any good Texas girl will do.)

“Hey, Coach.  Talking about you again.”

His immediate response confirmed that he had indeed read my text, and was probably trying to figure out how to respond to me.

“You’re busted, counselor.”

“I am indeed.  Gonna go slap myself silly now.”

After a little more witty banter, we ended up going for our second date that night.  Thank goodness I’d already confessed my penchant for talking about him to my girlfriends, and he has a great sense of humor.

Question:  What’s the worst texting mistake you’ve ever made?