Playing in My Old Backyard

I'm not sure if it's something that happens when you reach a certain age and find yourself without a husband and children; or if it's a reaction to plain old curiousity; but lately, I find myself increasingly curious about what happened to the men I dated throughout my life. I can't help but wonder whether they became good husbands, good fathers, good men.

At least, that's what I was thinking when I "came across" my first college boyfriend on facebook. There he was looking not a day older than the day I last saw him at age 20. After three weeks I'm sure that he's not going to respond to my message; and while I can understand why he wouldn't, I can't help but feel a little hurt that he isn't just as curious.

I know we should grow out of the inadequacies that we had as children; but sometimes it surprises me that no matter how old I get I often still feel like that girl I was in high school and college. We become adults and supposedly grow out of cliques, yet we find ourselves standing outside of clubs waiting to be chosen to get in; or hanging with the right people to get invited to the right after work happy hours.

Somehow, no matter how far past our high school years we get, we can't seem to get far enough past them to actually get away.

Growing Old Gracefully or I Don't Think I'm Old Enough for That

I found a gray hair, where? Is this a bad joke? Call me ignorant, but I actually believed that the aging process would be slower if I didn't have kids and activate all of those "special" hormones that come with pregnancy, pregnancy weight, childbirth and breast-feeding. What a wake up call I received as I found myself eating less, yet doing more to maintain my weight; and being forced to become obsessed to lose any weight.

Some people think I look younger than my age, but I don't; I see the gray hairs - in unmentionable places, and the lines that weren't there in that picture sitting on the bedside table. And don't even ask about the sudden tightness in my clothes around the tummy area.

I can't help but look at my 24 year old cousin that everyone calls my twin; and think that she looks 20 years younger in my eyes. I can't help but cringe every time I make a reference to something that happened 20 plus years ago that I remember vividly; or smile when I realize that a friend wasn't even born when that event happened.

Aging means wisdom, life experience and knowledge, yet somehow lately, aging has become a bad word in my vocabulary.


So every night before bed I'm sure to wash any makeup off and apply night cream. And in the morning after my shower I'm sure to apply moisturizer and sunscreen, to my face and skin. And throughout the day I drink almost a gallon of water to keep my skin as close to clear as possible (which isn't as clear and it used to be); and count calories to stay on track. I apply my Crest white strips an hour a day to keep my smile bright and youthful; and every 6 weeks I update my hairstyle or get those grayer every time roots dyed dark. And somehow I have to smile because at the end of the day; this is what they call growing old gracefully.

Feeling like 17 All Over Again

When I was 17 years old I had a huge crush on a guy on the school track team. He was pretty popular and I was thrilled to be his friend; and dreamed of being the girl in our school who finally got his attention. Fortunately, his friendship was available, unfortunately, his romantic attention was not.

One afternoon after a weekend track meet I sat in the bleachers waiting to walk with him to the train station. He told me that I didn't have to wait for him, that he was okay. I protested saying no, I'm happy to wait. Silly 17 year old me didn't quite understand that he was saying that he was waiting for someone else. Instead, I got my feelings hurt when a young lady walked up and asked him if he was ready to leave and he turned and walked away. Sadly, I also didn't know that the entire school was waiting for me outside of the field to see what would happen when I saw the new lady in my young man's life. To say I walked away devastated is an understatement. I made it to the end of the field without crying. I made it to the end of the field, not the end of the sidewalk where everyone, friends and foes stood excitedly waiting for my reaction. And that's where I lost it; and the tears fell and the embarrassment started; and the reputation I had for keeping my composure in all situations fell apart.

My classmates got a perfect view of my vulnerabilities and the perfectly created shield was shattered. I promised in that moment that I would never leave myself in that position again; and in a strange turn of events - last night I had the opportunity to prove it.

I have a huge crush on a "young" man that I have become friends with this year. As luck should have it; he enjoys my company too. So last night we spent the evening hanging out doing everything from watching MJ videos and playing guitar hero, to just talking as I watched him play his guitar for me. Then, his cell phone buzzed and he informed me that a young lady was on her way over. He explained that I was welcome to stay until she got there, but then it would be time to end the evening.

A curious, braver woman would have stayed to see the young lady that had his attention; but those tearful moments at Midwood Field returned in a flash and I was once again 17 years old being told that I didn't need to wait. So 20 years later, I said no. I said, "I don't want to know who you're sleeping with." He innocently responded that his friend was really nice and that he wanted me to meet her. I took the out and instead let that handsome, fascinating young man that I can't seem to remove from my thoughts, walk me to my car and watch as I drove away - 'before' the arrival of the young lady that would be finishing my amazing evening.

Call me a coward, an idiot, a wuss. I'll accept every name in the book; but one tearful walk out of a building is all I can handle in a lifetime; and if 37 doesn't give you permission to walk away - you have to give it to yourself. I woke up still feeling 17 this morning, with that timid feeling that comes from a disappointment you can't fix, a lost opportunity that can't be reclaimed, or the moment that you realize that you are a brand new owner of a beautiful pair of green eyes, the monster known as jealousy.

Just call me 17, with 20 years experience.

Thanks, I needed to worry about that too...

After a long afternoon, after a hard day of a long week, I sat down at the repast following my grandfather's funeral next to a woman holding her beautiful baby son. I had seen her beautiful daughter and complimented her on her beautiful children and how well they behaved. She thanked me and slowly the conversation turned to the wonder of children and the work associated with them.

As the conversation went on, she expressed how difficult it would be to raise kids without the help of her husband. She asked if I had any children, and I explained that I was single and never wanted to be a single parent and since I was just a few years short of 40 that I figured it might never happen. She expressed surprise at my age and then asked if I never had children, who did I expect to take care of me when I was old.

So as it turns out, it's not enough that I'm single, and childless, now I get to worry about that fact that there won't be anyone to take care of me in my old age. Thanks lady.

If I Knew Better

So I've been thinking...If Beyonce can imagine if she was a boy, I figure I can imagine my life if I knew better; or at least if I had the nerve to do some of the things I should have done...

If I knew better:
I'd give up on the "love of my life" since I'm not the love of his.
I'd quit the job I hate - even if it would make the boss I hate happy; and go after the career of my dreams.
I'd be less sensible and throw caution to the wind.
I'd tell the man I love how I really feel about him; hold nothing back and be able to walk away from him with a clean conscience.
I'd downsize my belongings and get rid of all of the things that don't really matter in my life.
I'd risk my heart and tell a certain younger man that I'm interested in more; no matter what he'd think of me.

But like I said, I obviously don't know better.

Letting the Wind out of My Sails

Sometimes, you can't help but be disappointed by the things that "don't" happen in your life. This was the case last year when I lost out on a promotion to two co-workers who lacked my experience and my hard fought education.

With that in mind, I didn't want to let the door to the promotion hit me in the ass twice. So, I redirected my efforts, strengthened my focus and took it upon myself to take over numerous tasks that others not only didn't want to do; but refused to do. I gave up weekends even without being asked.

For the last couple of months I have been kicking butt and I knew it. My immediate supervisors started taking notice and each day brought a little more acknowledgment of the work that I was doing. As someone who has always believed in hard work, I looked forward to the rewards that would come from my efforts.

So yesterday, the head of my department asked if he could speak to me for a moment in the conference room. I thought, "wow, he's finally going to congratulate me for the work I've been doing." I was wrong. He wanted to tell me that I'm a little too social lately.

Good work be damned; women in the workplace are still supposed to be seen and not heard.

Not all love stories are epic novels...

Not all love stories are epic novels; some are short stories, but that doesn't make them any less filled with love.

It's my favorite line from the Sex & the City movie. Ten years ago it would have disappointed me greatly, but I think I'm finally getting it.

Three years ago I found my childhood sweetheart; the boy I fell for at 6, the teen who got my hormones racing at 16, and now still catches my breath at 36. We are passionately attracted to each other. Unfortunately, it's clear that even though we are both still single; and that I'm going to love him for eternity we will not be together forever. Our worlds have changed too much, and his life goals don't include me.

I refuse to be sad about this. Instead, I'm living and loving in the moment. After all, I promised him that I'd be the smile on his face and the look in his eyes that his wife won't understand.

Part of me thinks that's an unfair notion; but the other part thinks that's a small price for her to pay for getting the life "I" wanted for myself.

Cougar Tendencies

My company has started hiring very attractive young men. Attractive as in tv/movie star good lucks, with the bodies to match. Young as in more than 10 years younger than I am.

I'm not sure if I should be ashamed of the raging crush I have on a 24 year old; a completely gorgeous 24 year old. I find myself sneaking glances; being extra helpful; and adorably sweet. I'm completely not myself - I'm hooked.

Aging must be a huge part of God's sense of humor. In my 20's this guy would have been out of my league; in my late 30's he's not even in my universe. I should be able to look at him and understand that time has passed and he's too young.

Yet somehow, that doesn't stop me from fixing my hair, adjusting my clothes, vamping up my expression, and slowing my step when I walk past his office...Just in case he likes older women.

Owning 37

So in a little over a month I will cross the threshold into 37. I'm saying it out loud and putting it in writing because I want and need to own that age. It's an age of major reflection for me. None of the women in my immediate family have had children after the age of 37; so I'm looking at all of my 20 something plans to get married and have a baby with a bit of regret and sadness.

Two years ago I met the most fascinating, intelligent man who disturbed my aura, damaged my personal defenses, and invaded my psyche. And I was glad. I helped him tear down the walls I had spent the last 6 years building up. From the moment I met him there was something about him that made me rethink the idea that the guy of my dreams didn't exist.

I'll preface the next statement by explaining that this man was 2 years younger than I was, but our interests meshed. With him I felt at home. Then one morning our sleepy haze gave birth to a discussion about the future. A discussion that revealed our similar views on child rearing, hopes and dreams and the type of life we hoped for.

Then he said the words that no woman in her 30s wants to hear. "You're an amazing woman, but by the time I'm ready to get married, it'll be too late for you to have children."
I've never been kicked in the gut, until that morning when I think I physically felt the words reverberate through my uterus.