Well Hello, Clarice

What do I want? Do I want a new partner? A long-term relationship? Or LTR as they say on Tinder. I cringe I as write that. Tinder. What a weird time of my life that was. March of 2020 to August of 2020. Cruising Tinder. Resorting to the seedy, shameless lifestyle of searching for someone online. During a global pandemic no less. Well, seedy and shameless was the way I operated anyway. I know that a good majority of people on these sites are really searching for that one someone special. But for me, after my wife left, and after the depression receded, I thought living a shady life of basically anonymous sex would be a good decision.

It wasn’t the first time I was wrong. Shocker, I know. I know. Probably won’t be the last either. Probably. On being wrong about Tinder, it was twofold. First of all, living the life of a ‘70s era, averagely endowed, porn star never materialized. Not for me, probably not for a lot of men doing the internet hustle. I was kinda ‘undercover’ in my Tinder involvement, in that, I truly didn’t know what it was that I wanted. I kept my profile on the site vague. I didn’t disclose my wanton desire to live a polyamorous lifestyle. So in hindsight, I was scamming. Working the system. Trying to ‘match’ with women I’d only want to sleep with. The bottom line, sex. Sex, and more sex. I guess a long-term relationship could have materialized. But… I was looking to have sex. With more than one woman. Not at the same time, althoooough……..I wouldn’t have shied away if someone’s BFF wanted to have some fun too. Damn, ‘70’s era porn made it look so easy. I couldn’t even come close to that kind of action fifty friggin’ years after the ‘70’s. Couldn’t come close to that kind of action with all the help a modern age could offer with the fingertip technology of online hooking-up and such. Tall tales, short tales, victories, and epic fails. Well, I guess. I flunked Tinder. I quit Tinder. I quit after my one and only hook-up on Tinder. After hours and hours and hours of swiping pictures, six months of wasted time, I finally hooked up and had a great night. Sorry, no details. Take my word for it, it was a really good night. But. But. But I knew in my heart it was just sex. Nothing more. Just sex. Nine months of celibacy, made up for in one night, kinda sex. My partner had a fun time as well. She wanted to move forward with a relationship. I did not.

That’s when I quit Tinder. Go figure.

So I ask myself again, What do I want?

The ink on the newly signed Marriage Agreement Settlement hasn’t even dried yet. Just signed. Fourteen months into the breakup and I finally see the light at the end of this long, cold tunnel. I’m buying the ex out of our home. I get to keep the house we moved into in December of 1999. The house the kids grew up in. Feel safe in. Are happy in. They spend the weekends here with me. Keeping the house is a huge victory for me because staying here ensures that I get maximum potential of seeing and spending time with the children. They’ll be able to pop in whenever they like. Any day of the week.

The house is sweet. I love it. I don’t miss my ex being here. I did. Seems like a long, long time ago that I missed her being here. That I missed her at all. But I don’t. Not any more. I’m fully healed from the devastating blow of her affair and the tail-spin spiral of descent into depression it left me wallowing in.

I don’t mind being here all alone during the week. I’ve reconnected with myself. Found myself. My voice, through my writing. My body, through my workouts. In a way, I’ve rebranded myself by having this solitude time. This solitude is gratifying to me in a kind of therapeutic way, with the help of tea-lite candles, my own version of yoga, and full length albums on Youtube. But I often wonder about another woman entering my life. Especially when I lie down at night. The comfort of someone I’m in love with, nestled close to me. Kissing. Spooning. I haven’t looked into someone’s eyes while nose to nose for over a year now.

I wonder every night. I believe it is a good thing. I believe that is what I want. To end every day cuddled under a comforter with someone I love. Cozy. Safe. Warm. And fuzzy. I am very happy currently. Although I haven’t found that someone, I know that it is going to happen. Naturally, not forced. Meeting organically, face to face, not through an app or a “dating” sight. I am very happy because I am appreciating the organic process. Letting it come to me. Not going out there and forcing it. It is sweet. It is one of the best things in the world, knowing that someone is going to happen. Like Clarice and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Sweet, innocent, magical, natural.

My ex took our daughter to the bank to get an account for her new job. She took her to the bank we, my ex and I, both use. The bank where I had to freeze a joint account because my ex was siphoning money, without my knowledge, for her and her new partner. I had to write a letter to Corporate explaining the situation in order for me to be able to shut it down without her consent. It was approved but before that approval I needed to bring it into the bank and hand it to a manager. My ‘guy’ wasn’t there on that Saturday. We spoke on the Friday before and he told me to write the letter to Corporate immediately and get it in as soon as possible. The manager who was there on that Saturday, Marci, was one of the loveliest women I have ever met. I gave her a brief explanation of the letter as I sat down in front of her desk. As she read, I noticed how gentle and womanly she was. She did the cutest thing that has stayed with me through this divorce process. When she got to the part in the letter where I describe my ex’s fraudulence, Marci emitted a hushed, surprised, “Oh…”. I smiled because it was cute. She broke her concentration from the letter and began to look my way. She seemed to ‘catch’ herself doing so and quickly averted her eyes back to the letter. I think she was slightly embarrassed at her reaction. I started liking Marci at that point. That “ Oh…” that she shared with me was so natural and sympathetic, maybe even empathetic, that it felt like an invisible bond was formed. Something she and I shared. Organic, yes. I didn’t go there to seek her or anyone else out. We just came together accidentally, naturally. Watching Marci finish reading the letter was a sheer joy. Her gentle loveliness was calming.

I had a crush on her for sure. I would always hope to see her when I made my deposits. I liked her so much that I gave her a homemade Valentine’s card….in January. Two weeks later I followed that up with a letter explaining why I gave it to her. Yeah. I was a hot mess. I was too insecure to actually ask her out on a proper date. I was spiraling out of control emotionally because of the divorce. But in my defense, all I did was let Marci know how I felt about her. I really liked her. Still do. I haven’t seen her in months. Many, many months. My confidence has rebounded quite strongly since our last eye contact which was before the pandemic shutdown.

I was standing in line at the bank to make a deposit. Marci walked from her office into the teller’s area, which I was facing, and into a back room. I lost my shit internally. Meaning, my heart started pounding, my forehead started sweating, and my hands holding my deposit slip and cash started trembling. Go figure, right? I only gave her a handmade Valentine’s card a month early, saying she was the loveliest woman I had met. Who wouldn’t be trembling? I mean, when I hand delivered the card, she actually read it right there, in front of me. I didn’t think that part through. I stood there, shell-shocked, as she looked at the card, a picture I had taken of three heart shaped candies that had a printed word on each, Laugh, Smile, and Dream. I stood there completely numb and statue-like as she turned the card around and read my message to her. Whose heart wouldn’t be pounding? Marci looked at me after reading my message and walked around her desk and gave me a hug. She was as tall as me and the hug felt so sweet and right. I gently, consciously and cautiously, put my hands on her back completing the hug. Still shell-shocked, when the hug was over, I didn’t know what to do or what to say. I had no idea that was going to happen. After what felt like an eternity, I said, Have a nice weekend, and I left. Thinking that was the best thing ever. It took days to realize, Now, what’ll I do?

I was hoping as hard as I could hope, standing in line waiting to make that deposit, that Marci would make her way back out from that back room and into the teller’s area so that I could catch another glimpse of her and maybe make eye contact.

Two minutes later, still in line, Marci opened the door and entered the teller’s area. We made direct eye contact. Marci banged right into a filing cabinet with an open drawer. It was a hard collision. I felt so bad for her. I looked down at the deposit stuff in my hands, I willed myself not to chuckle. Not even a smile. Marci regrouped and headed back to her office. I waited until she crossed the lobby until I glanced back at her. When I did, she was looking back at me. Eye contact again. We both averted our eyes, simultaneously. Holy fuck, was she checking me out?

I haven’t seen Marci in months. Many months. I have been getting my life together in every way possible since then. I have thought about her from time to time but convinced myself that I was probably obsessed with her. That if she was interested she would have let me known, some way, somehow. I wonder what it is going to be like when we do see each other again. I wonder if what had transpired between us left an impression on her mind. I wonder if not seeing her for all these months could be a good thing. At the very least, I wonder what was going through her mind as she helped my daughter and my ex with the account.

When my daughter told me about her new bank account, I asked her who helped her out at the bank. She said, Um…some woman named Marci, I responded by saying, Oh, I know her. She’s really nice. She said, Yeah, she is.

I am very happy because I am appreciating the organic process. Letting it come to me. Not going out there and forcing it. It is sweet. It is one of the best things in the world, knowing that someone is going to happen. Like Clarice and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Sweet, innocent, magical, natural.

I do think about Marci and that hug, occasionally. Another hug like that would absolutely crush me. In a good way.

I have met three young ladies were I currently work, a big corporation. There have been some positive natural occurrences with said young ladies.

I am very happy because I am appreciating the organic process. Letting it come to me. Not going out there and forcing it. It is sweet. It is one of the best things in the world, knowing that someone is going to happen. Like Clarice and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Sweet, innocent, magical, natural.

The three young ladies I’ve met at work are much younger than I. But I can’t help but feel that there is attraction towards me, with all three, and I them. I don’t want to sound cocky or boastful but it’s an intuition thing. Understanding the communication through eye contact and body language. We all work in different departments and/or buildings so contact is sporadic. The conversations that I have had with the young ladies were quaint and friendly chit-chats. The ‘just-getting-to-know-you’ kinda talks. Aaaaaannnnnd….those conversations are the best things in the world to me right now. They are my social life. And I couldn’t ask for more.

Take it slow. Take it as it comes. Natural.

Whether it’s with Marci or one of the three young ladies from work or even the woman in the cute red jacket I ran into at the supermarket last Sunday, with whom I was friendly with at my last restaurant job, I envision a lunch date at The Elwood Zoo. Thick sweaters. Walking and talking. Light lunch at the café. More walking and talking. Connecting through smiles, laughter, and common ground conversations. One can only hope and wonder. Right?

I can’t believe the happiness I have found.

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UPDATE: Yesterday was 11/4/20, Election Day. I caught a ride on one of the elevators at work with Mya, one of the three young ladies from work that I’m in-like with.

ME: (as Mya was entering the elevator) Hey, can I catch a ride with you, I’m heading down to Two.

MYA: Sure.

ME: Did you vote today?

MYA: (smiles) Yeah, of course.

ME: Who’d you vote for?

MYA: I can’t tell you that.

ME: Sure you can.

A funny pause between us. Reading each other’s eyes over our masks.

MYA: Trump. I voted for Trump.

ME: Everybody did!

MYA: Not because I like him.

ME: Who does?!

MYA: Just that, I don’t like what Biden offers.

ME: Yeah…

“BING” Floor 2 – Elevator doors open to a hustle and bustle of commotion on Floor Two. The big television on the cafeteria wall is showing the election results in progress. Co-workers are in the cafeteria and in the hallway watching CNN and conversing boisterously. Seems this election is a big deal for some reason. People file into the elevator as Mya and I walk out. We head in opposite directions. As we begin to make our turns, Mya right, me left (how appropriate, considering our Presidential votes), Mya turns around and says, See ya later with a hopeful wave. I wave back and say, Yeah, see you later.

So when I laid down last night, I wondered again. I wondered about Mya. I wonder about Mya the most. I’m wondering now. I wonder if she likes Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Me, not the TV show. Just kidding. I wonder if she likes the show. I wonder if she has a thick, cozy sweater.