Service

My favourite sound is that of my cats eating. Not just any time that they eat, but in those few moments following their morning shenanigans designed to get me out of bed--after the knocking of my cell phone off the night table, the whacking of the chimes on my balcony door, the stepping on my bladder (a favourite of Harley the Heavyweight) and the plaintive vocalizations pitched at the precise wavelength of a hungry human baby's cry. Finally I arise, as do their hopes, and tend to my most urgent biological needs as they look on, incredulous that after all that effort they still have to wait.They put their little paws on my knee and look earnestly into my face, willing me to comprehend the urgency of their plight. Then there is the washing and drying of the bowls, interspersed with the making of the coffee and wiping of the counter. They pace in circles or sit and stare, hoping to compel me with the sheer force of their wills to just put the damned food in front of them already. Sometimes they yell at me. Sometimes Harley will, in desperation, retreat to another room, unable to withstand the sight of me doing anything but attending to his deep, yawning need for food. As soon as he hears the sound of that pop top can lid opening, though, he joins Blaine at my feet.

I put the food down. There is a moment in which they decide which bowl belongs to whom. A pause. Then...the sound. It is a sound that is more than a sound. It is a deep, visceral, all-encompassing experience of blessed relief, contentment, joy, satisfaction and gratitude. For a few moments, as I listen and feel into the sound, my role in life is fulfilled. I have a reason to exist and I am successful in carrying out my ultimate purpose. These two beings depend on me for sustenance. I have provided sustenance. My joy is found in this simple yet essential provision of service.

Yesterday I did a 3-card Soul's Journey reading. The first card was Service. I don't recall ever having pulled the Service card before. It's all about how being of Service is really the path to one's own fulfillment and ultimately serves one's own happiness, one's sense of meaning in life. It is, and has always been, a central theme for me, so much so that I have often lost myself in serving others. I struggle with the concept of meeting the needs of others vs. meeting my own needs over and over and over. I imagine the Universe shaking it's head sadly, disappointed yet again. That Joni [insert sigh]. She just doesn't get it.

I'm trying so hard to get it. But I am confused! So many conflicting messages, all compelling and mutually exclusive, from sources I respect and believe in. Lose yourself! Find yourself! You can only be whole by serving others! You can only be whole by looking inward and meeting your own needs! You must love others first! You must love yourself first! Breathe in! No, breathe out!

I know you are expecting me to come up with some kind of epiphany now. Ah, Grasshopper, you must breathe in and out. You and others are one and there is no breathing in and out--only breathing. There is no breathing, it is all illusion. Something New Agey and Buddha-like. I don't have any epiphanies. I only have the sound of the cats eating and the awareness of how it makes me feel.

I Feel a Blog Post Coming On.........

My sexy red lace matching bra and panties are mocking me. It's true that the last time I was stood up on Valentine's Day was much worse than this. That time, the guy I had been seeing for about a month and with whom I had just become "exclusive", broke up with me by email on Valentine's Day. He had invited me to attend a party with him and when I hadn't heard from him by noon and he had not returned any texts, I called him. He did not pick up but emailed me about 20 minutes later saying he would not feel "authentic" if he continued to see me. Yes. Mr. Authentic was much worse.

That is not to say that this does not feel bad. I had not had sex or even felt like a man wanted me for about a thousand years--ok, 7 months. But there were a couple of big disappointments in there too. Last May I met a very exciting man online who was not exactly geographically desirable but so many other boxes were ticked: witty, smart, artistic, warm, spiritually-oriented, psychologically reflective, good-looking and there was definitely a strong connection between us. We planned a meeting. He drove 2 1/2 hours to visit me. Turns out he had not even come close to getting over his ex. I had no idea this was even an issue. Believe me, it was an issue. We are still in touch and I certainly don't think badly of him but the experience pulled me up short. I had been excited for the first time in so long that the impact as I hit the cold hard ground was jarring.

Then there was the "nice" man I met online who I drove 4 hours to meet. He had written me actual letters. Not just emails but honest-to-goodness pen and paper old-fashioned letters with envelopes and stamps and whatnot. I felt heartened. Here was a mature, principled, decent man who would behave with courtesy and honesty. We had communicated a great deal throughout the summer, met a couple of times and I had tentatively planned to go see him again. I decided that I could not go to see him out of town after all but since he was returning to Toronto I was not worried about it. Didn't hear a word from him after that. I only knew he was alive from his Facebook postings and we commented on each other's pages and emailed a few times. It was only very recently that I had the temerity to ask him what had happened. He answered that not only was he not really that into me but that back in the summer he had met a woman with whom he wanted to pursue a relationship. He explained that although "perhaps" he should have explained to me why he suddenly dropped off the face of the earth, that he just felt it was "easier" not to bother. And that's the dating game, he further mused. People get hurt. It's just the way the cookie crumbles. And then: "Friendship is an option". No. I'm afraid not.

It's been a busy year full of huge upheavals including going through every piece of paper and memorabilia in my life in preparation for moving from a three-bedroom house with a basement and garage chock-a-block with stuff, to a fantastic but relatively small 2-bedroom condo downtown. I hate moving. It was a tough slog to get ready for selling my house and the anxiety over the antics of my crazy neighbour was, in itself, enough stress for a lifetime. Just getting that nutjob to move her big-ass, seized up motorcycle from the shared driveway in the front to the vicinity of the garage took a few years off my life. At the same time I helped my daughter locate and move into an apartment in Ottawa where she goes to University. A few months before, my workplace moved to a temporary location. Did I mention I hate moving? I got stung by a wasp. I spent my vacation with a dearly loved, very ill friend. I was exhausted every day. I weaned off one antidepressant and onto another.I hibernated. I worked long hours and spent my energy stores until I had nothing left. I was dead inside. I longed for love, sex, both....but to be honest there wasn't anyone in whom I was even remotely interested and no one was expressing any interest in me. I could not bring myself to go back online.  Then I hit the wall and had a panic attack that presented as intense chest pain and elevated blood pressure. It scared me. My manager made me take time off, God bless her. As I detoxed from work and started to remove my armour I felt the stirrings of life in me again. I went to a couple of meetup groups. I had fun. I got together with my friends. I felt a groundswell of support from people I hadn't realized even gave a crap about me. I started to come back to myself.

I met a man at one of the meetup events. He got in touch with me afterwards and we went out to a movie. There he did something that made me believe in men again. He held my hand. I felt my entire being become infused with happiness when he made that simple, sweet gesture. It felt exquisitely intimate. I enjoyed his company and he mine. The sex was "meh" but, Sweet Mother of Jesus, it was sex! He desired me, ergo I was desirable! We had fun.We were easy in each others' company, so easy that I invited him over spontaneously a few days later when I was already in my PJs "for a hug". He walked the 10 minutes in sub-zero temperatures to my place and got much more than hugs. This time it was awesome. Such happiness! Just to enjoy each other with no major expectations but with no fear of dickish behaviour was miraculous to me. I had invited him to battle the dreaded Valentine's Day with me tonight for a sleepover/Breaking Bad marathon. He has never seen BB if you can imagine such a thing. He had to go see family in an outer suburb in the afternoon but would come over after dinner and spend the night with me. I cleaned my place. I put together a playlist. I shaved my legs even though they were waxed a short time ago and I cut myself doing it. No matter, I was having a sex sleepover on Valentine's Day!

It came out of the blue. As God is my witness, I did not see it coming. Just as I finished doing my hair I got the text: He is staying with his family overnight so they can have a meal together tomorrow with the rest of the family. Could we get together next week sometime? I was stunned. I took a few minutes to catch my breath. Responses were composed and rejected. I texted that my dance card is rather full next week (which it is) and my daughter is in town with me for Reading Week (which she is).....could he return to his family tomorrow for the meal? No, he responded, that would not work out too well for him. But we will work something out soon.

The Joni you know and love, Endlessly Understanding Joni, would have been gracious and would have offered to contort herself into pretzel shapes to accommodate the vagaries of his priorities. The truth is that I have changed. Maybe it's moving downtown. Maybe it's having an empty nest. Maybe it's hitting the wall of self-sacrifice yet again. Maybe it's all that and more. Endlessly Understanding Joni is nowhere in sight. Standing me up is not ok. Standing me up for a sleepover date and offering such a lame reason is less ok. On Valentine's Day......well, let us not even speak of it.

When I recovered my senses it occurred to me that the Universe is providing an opportunity for me to determine what is good enough for me. What kind of treatment will I accept? Old habits are powerful but there is a new little nugget in me that is growing and seems to be here to stay. That nugget knows I deserve so much better and it will not settle for people who play so fast and loose with my feelings. I don't know if I will see Mr. Something Better Came Along again. I am grateful to him for bringing an essential part of me back to life. It seems, though, that my feelings are not very important to him. Happily, my feelings are now important to me.

Ah, dear readers, I know you have been on tenterhooks all night waiting for news of my coffee date last evening. The good news is that he showed up, and is a very nice man and a pretty good conversationalist.The bad news is that the most exciting thing about the date is the writing of the blog. And this is the frustrating part about the whole dating thing....well, one of the frustrating parts......that someone can be perfectly nice, and have the qualities you are looking for and be attractive enough and be quite compatible on paper/computer screen.... but there is no magic. We old fogies call it "the spark". There was no spark. He actually seemed uneasy in my presence, as if I might suddenly and without provocation bite him on the face. The uneasiness appeared to worsen as the date progressed. I have no idea why. I am not a biter. And I was actually quite subdued (for me), and I think I even listened more than I talked. I didn't hear everything he said, though, because the voice in my head screaming "I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE!!!" was kind of loud.

In some ways yesterday's date was more disappointing than the encounter with poopyhead (still love the word).At least poopyhead gave me some drama, an intense reaction, a story to tell, a creative springboard. It was not Mr. No Spark's fault. He was courteous. Paid for my hot chocolate. Feigned interest in my life. Not a lot of interest but enough not to be a dick. To explain what I mean I will compare my date with Mr. No Spark to a recent date with Mr. "Occasional Smoker" who, in reality, is Mr. Chain Smoker. When I met with Mr. "Occasional Smoker" I realized immediately that he smoked a lot and that I would not , therefore,be dating him. So I relaxed. We had a very energetic conversation with lots of flirting, innuendo, genuine interest in each others experiences and laughter. It was fun. The fact that smoking is my biggest deal-breaker (besides being married or a Neo-Nazi) freed me up to just enjoy the time spent with an interesting and engaging person. Yesterday just fell flat. Like letting the air out of a balloon slowly instead of making it pop.

More and more, dear readers, I feel like packing this dating thing in. But then what would I write about in my blog??
Seriously ?!?

Wow.....I think my BFF Rhonda-Soo said it best tonight: "You always feel better after you barf". I do feel better. So much better. Just to be clear, we are not talking about actual barfing. It was crazy scary to go down the rabbit hole to my deepest darkest most neurotic vulnerabilities and "BLAHHHHHHH" just kind of barf it out there. But now I don't feel bad anymore. I'm still incredulous and confused by what it all meant but, hey, I'll never know what the hell that was all about. I just know it wasn't about me. And now that the toxic sludge has been expelled from my being I am totally over what that poopyhead pulled. More importantly, I started to write.....finally. Who imagined that such an amazing gift could come from such a poopyhead? As you can tell, I have re-discovered the word "poopyhead" and am enjoying it very, very much.

Last evening I went to a family birthday party. My sister approached me immediately having read, not my blog, but all the Facebook fallout around it. I started to remember who is on my FB friends list and the enormity of what I'd done started to dawn on me. It was out there and there was no taking it back. At work today it kind of freaked me out how many of my co-workers had read my deep dark neurotic fears and I started to be apprehensive about how the dynamics might change. But just as I started down that paranoid road I realized that I had touched people. Made them sad. Made them angry. Made them laugh wryly. And most importantly, shared a very personal part of myself with them. So ironic coming from the Queen of TMI but somehow this is different than the run of the mill vagina talk at the lunch table. Connecting at a subterranean level and feeling a depth of support that I hadn't imagined was there was just so comforting. Like a soft blanket straight out of the dryer.

So what is next? I have another "coffee date" planned for Wednesday that had been arranged before poopyhead even came on the scene. So now I will be meeting another soul who is also taking a chance that all that stuff written in the profile is a pile of crap. And this is what it comes down to........a leap of faith. I have so many of these dating stories (poopyhead is just the very tip of that iceberg) that it would not be unreasonable to conclude that the Universe just wants me to stop this foolishness and get myself some more cats. There is a Pollyanna in me, however, that just believes.I keep on believing even when I don't believe, if you know what I mean. I just have to.

So here is the backstory to the coffee date that will take place on Wednesday--assuming everyone shows up, of course. I have been on a number of dating sites, one of which is Dharmamatch--which is supposed to be more for the spiritually inclined types. I get very little communication from Dharmamatch and usually just delete anything from there that ends up on my phone. A couple of weeks ago I got a match.com wink from someone with the screen moniker of "Strongsoul....blah, blah..." I noticed the name at the time though I didn't respond. Then I got an email from Dharmamatch which I looked at, discarded but then noticed that there was another email there from LAST JUNE that I hadn't seen or opened. It was from, you guessed it, Strongsoul....blah, blah.....it was the same guy! I recognized the picture.It was a lovely email. And nothing gets my attention like synchronicity. So we connected and decided to meet for coffee.....this coming Wednesday. Stay tuned!
Seriously?!?

Do you, like me, often say to yourself "Seriously?!?"? Several times a day, it seems, I am astounded by the crazy shit that comes my way. You would think that as a hospital social worker I would no longer be taken aback by the vicissitudes of  human behaviour. After all, I've spent over 30 years working with people at the very times when they are at their worst. What could possibly shock me? And yet, I am still floored. A lot.

So yesterday I had one of these Seriously?!? moments. A big one. Big enough to be the impetus for starting a blog. For years I've contemplated writing about my experiences in the dating world--particularly the online dating world. But...... I lack discipline. I lack stick-to-it-iveness. So I never did it. And I've never really seen the point of blogging. It seemed kind of self-indulgent and narcissistic to me. I'm not really sure what changed my mind but my mind is changed. I want to give it a try. 

Here's what happened: a guy on match.com wrote me an email in response to a wink I sent him.His profile described how he wished only for a woman who is "compassionate, kind, and deep". He described me in his email as a "woman of substance"--a quality he apparently gleaned from my profile. He gave me his cell phone number and invited me to call or text him. I texted him and he immediately called me. I don't like a bunch of communication before actually meeting in person; I have learned from experience that it never ends well. So I suggested we meet over a beverage and see what was what. We decided to meet at a Timothy's at 6pm. I arrived a little early and got a hot chocolate and texted him at 6:03 that I had arrived. In the 20 minutes that followed, I was sure I saw him approach the Timothy's but the person I saw kept on walking. At about 6:20 I received the following text:

"Hi Joni. My apologies. I do not believe I have done this before but it is not right to represent yourself falsely. I am not a bad person and I only wish you the best in your search."

I texted back that I didn't know what he was talking about and that he at least owed me an explanation. None was forthcoming. So what could he possibly see through a Timothy's window that would convince him that he had not been told the truth about me? There are two pictures of me posted on my match.com profile.

This is the most recent, dated August 3, 2013

The only thing I can think of that might be seen as "false representation" is my answer to the question about "Body Type". The choices: Slender, Athletic and Toned, Curvy, About Average, A Few Extra Pounds, Big and Beautiful, Stocky, Heavyset. Seriously?!? All of these descriptors are way open to interpretation. So I picked "Curvy". Am I guilty of false advertising? I have met two other men using this profile and neither of them accused me of lying about myself. And really, if you are reading this you know me at least a little bit, do I hide anything about myself? The usual accusation is that I am too open, too honest, and that I overshare.

The worst part of this experience is the accusation that I misled this poor schmuck somehow. But something lurks underneath this righteous indignation. An ugly, shameful feeling that has haunted my whole life. The belief that I am not only not good enough but I am so repulsive, so deficient, so undesirable that I am unworthy of love. This is the standard package for a Jewish child of Holocaust Survivors and it is a legacy that I have struggled with since birth. Maybe before birth. Divorce only serves to reinforce this belief. Lack of a partner who loves me doesn't help either.

I had heard of prospective dates not showing up after seeing the person they were supposed to meet but this has never actually happened to me before. What is my takeaway message? The Jewish Child of Holocaust Survivors me pipes up enthusiastically, "What did you think? That you are attractive enough for someone to actually sit in your company long enough to share a hot beverage? Haven't you been paying attention?". Of course, JCHS is not the only character seated at the table of my psyche. There is Hippie Joni who, steeped in New Age wisdom, realizes that this is just more grist for the mill....just a test of the high level of self-esteem I have developed through much therapy, many workshops, huge life changes and a determination to transform the legacy. Hippie Joni is usually the strongest voice at the table. But when something like this happens it's like a trap door opens beneath my feet and I free fall into a very dark cold place of feeling unloved and unlovable--destined to be alone forever.

Yeah, so this was kind of a bummer. 

Seriously?!?