whew, what a weird week

Nothing to do with alliteration, more to do with rubbish weather and supposed expectations.

All my life, the expectation has been to meet the man of my dreams. Well, I'm not so naive - certainly not now, or so I had supposed - as to believe there would be someone out there for me without feet of clay. Mine are pretty grubby, after all ..

So - one long marriage, one much shorter relationship and quite a few adult years on my own with temporary intermissions later, and what am I expecting? Sometimes, I think I'd like one special man exclusively for me - and then at other times, maybe a small selection to suit various aspects of my personality and doings. And neither choice includes a live-in option - that, and remarriage have been tested and found wanting..

Most people know I've tried out internet dating and other internet contacts - with the most mixed of results. I've ended up with a platonic friend - we go out from time to time - music, dinner, conversation - and good fun it is, too. I've got penpals from one end of the country to the other - male and female - which has been so interesting and such fun! I've met up with some of them, may meet others, may never meet some. And I've met some whose circumstances are a mite unconventional.

Just over a week ago, I was feeling a bit lonely, in that 'I want someone to love me' mood. A melancholic, autumnal mood, probably not helped by cold rainy gray skies - in August! But a chum is coming round - we're going out to dinner. We haven't met up for some little time, and I ask if he's missed me and tell him how I'd woken up this morning, thinking there was someone in my bed. And there wasn't.. The disappointment was piercing. Oh, what a mistake, telling him! He's too sympathetic - he can't be the man for me, but his sympathy undoes me, and I can't stop crying, as he strokes my back, looks into my eyes - I can't meet his - and says he wishes he could do something.

Two days later - and the rain is still falling relentlessly - and a long-term friend is coming round for the day. By this time, my mood has lifted somewhat, and to the sound of wind and rain, we snuggle under the bedclothes and make love until my brain swirls with oxytocin and serotonin. Later, and unexpectedly, he cooks supper for us - I lean near the cooker, and watch him make pancakes, grate cheese, layer ham. I open a bottle of Merlot and we eat voraciously - we'd forgotten about lunch.

I'm back from the old conventions, from looking to the future, back to living for the moment. Till the next time.