Isn’t it romantic?

I was out to dinner with Mr. Engineer last night. Now, I’m not really interested in him romantically. He’s very nice, but there’s no spark at all (even though he’s an engineer – pun intended). But I enjoy going out with him for dinner and I feel like it’s good for me to remind myself that I’m capable of speaking to men to whom I’m not related and haven’t been working with for 15 years. Not that, being a teacher, I work with many men anyway.

He mentioned during the course of our conversation that he has sleep apnea and uses one of those machines that wakes you if you stop breathing during the night. That’s why, he explained, he doesn’t travel much outside the US – he’s worried about the electricity (makes sense to me).

I have carpal tunnel and use wrist braces at night. They’re essentially ace bandage supports with metal splints to keep my wrists straight. If I don’t use them my wrists tend to bend and lose circulation and then my hands go so numb that it wakes me. I could never figure out how numbness could wake you – but that’s another post.

So I get this mental picture of a romantic first liaison. He with his sleep machine, me with my wrist braces. Not exactly like when I was in my 20′s and the only thing you worried about was whether or not your roommate would walk in. Or in my 30′s when we worried about whether or not the kids would walk in. Now I feel like I’m just one step away from worrying that he’s going to knock down the water glass with my teeth in it.

Isn’t it romantic?

Respond… or else

So far I’ve emailed four JDate men and one responded. Two haven’t opened the emails, which could mean that they (a) have lives and don’t log into JDate every day, (b) don’t pay so they can’t read their emails or (c) they figured out that I sent the emails and they’re not interested in me – no, I’m NOT paranoid.

One of them is also on Match.com, so I thought about finding him there and emailing him through Match – maybe he’s a paying member on that site.

I also happened (I swear I’m not stalking, I swear) to see him on the membership roster of a meetup.com group that I’m in. He used both his first and last names on meetup, so now I know his name (and, wouldn’t you know it, his first name is the same as Mr. Ex’s – how awkward). I also know where he lives from JDate and Match, and I know what kinds of things he’s interested in. Hm. It wouldn’t be hard to find someone, if you wanted to.

Okay, so now I’m channeling my inner Mary Higgins Clark. You know – the mystery writer. I see the ignored online dater stalking her prey… finding out his address… seeking him out at the local theater group in which he’s interested.

cut to dark hallway scene… She stands over the bleeding man. The faint light from the laptop shines in the background… Holding the dripping knife, she says…

“You… should…. have… responded…

to…

my…

flirt…”

Made me laugh…

Today I have just a little story that has absolutely nothing to do with divorce (because sometimes it just doesn’t have to be all about me)…

My mom is 86, extremely frail and fighting lung cancer. Understandably, sometimes depression and confusion set in, especially when she’s got an infection of some sort. That was the case this week, so she spent a little time in a senior adult mental health center. It’s a nice place – nothing like those yucky places portrayed in the movies; with lovely, devoted staff people. In most cases, the patients are only there temporarily for acute delirium brought on by medication or sickness – not long-term dementia. So it’s just kind of a little short-term visit to the cuckoo’s nest, I guess.

My brother went to visit my mom yesterday at lunchtime. She was eating in the communal dining room with four other patients. Next to each person’s plate was the little slip from the kitchen with his or her lunch order on it.

Image by roboppy via Flickr

My mom was excited to see my brother and eagerly introduced him to each of her lunch companions. She then confided that she was relieved to see him because they didn’t know how they were going to pay for their meal. He replied that they didn’t have to pay; the meal was included in their stay.

My mother – and her tablemates – disagreed. They were convinced that they were going to have to pay for the lunch and nobody had any money (I guess the hospital gowns didn’t have a place for their wallets). What were they going to do?

Now – you pretty much have to picture this. Here’s my brother; trying to explain to these five elderly (and admittedly not-all-there, albeit temporarily) folks that the slips weren’t bills for the meal. He could see that the anxiety this was producing was preventing them from enjoying their meal (and he correctly realized that he wasn’t going to convince them otherwise).

He did the only thing he could. He told them that he would take care of it.

Can you imagine the gratitude? The adulation? The relief that he brought to these five old people? They were so happy. They each solemnly gave him their meal slip. One lady hugged him. The man across the table gave him the thumbs up sign.

He made their day.

And when he told me, he made mine.