DOF 5: Sex on My Mind

I really should be packing at this time or at least reading the book sent to me in preparation for the meetings.

Since last night, I have been trying to rally myself to focus on the things I need to do in order to catch my red eye flight to Toronto and be reasonably intelligent at the 4-day long meeting I am attending.

My list of to do’s look something like this:
 Get Angello stuff together to take him to the kennel
 Do some laundry to have enough clothes to take with me (I am one of those persons who pack for every minute of the day when going on a trip!)
 Read at least the highlighted chapters of the book the meeting planners sent to you
 Water the plants and fill up the fountain
 Call Dr. B and make sure he remembers to pick up Angello from the kennel as scheduled
 Change email notification at work so that people know you are away for a few days and not waiting for responses from you
 Start packing so that there is no last minute rush

Well, it is now Wednesday morning and except for calling Dr. B, everything else will be done on the fly!

Why am I procrastinating? That is not my usual style but I have other things on my mind, give me a break.

What could be so important that all these very urgent things are left undone?

Sex.

I have sex on my mind.

This all started with a smile last week. Well, actually the smiles have been coming for a couple weeks now but only last week I smiled back. And now, my ‘to do’ list is getting shafted as sex has taken over my focus.

Three of my friends upon reading this post will be laughing but will also know what this is all about as I called them to get their opinion on – sex.

Let me explain.

Regular readers know that I have been doing a series on Dating Over Forty – DOF I like to call it. My interest in doing this series, which started at the prompting of my man-friend Lance, really has to do with my continuing commitment to share my journey. If sharing my story helps one – I am way satisfied.

Speaking of satisfied let me get back to the main point – sex.

So here I am a woman DOF, who is using all the available resources that allow someone of my age and newly single to get back into the dating scene. Being totally averse to the bar and club scenes, the internet has been a valuable resource for me –so too have been a couple friends who have been trying to hook me up.

Now at forty, with a 20 year old daughter, have travelled a fair portion of the world, been through ‘stuff’ – both healthy and not so healthy – divorced and ‘dumped’ – I have been around the block a few times one could safely say.

Therefore imagine my surprise when I received this smile and finally decided to smile back only to later learn that the individual do not believe in sex outside of marriage!

Being as I am truly practicing not being judgmental – lest I be judged – I put aside my immediate reaction which was “You f….. liar! That’s just a nice line to get l… .” Yes, unfortunately, my vocabularly is limited sometimes and my place of employment has helped to colour it even further :(

All non-judgmental I pursued the conversation, only to find that the individual was serious! Themselves over 40 years old, divorced with kids, this person seriously wanted to date for whatever period, then marry and only after marriage have sex. I asked, “Are you serious,” probably sounding like some randy sl.. but who cared? I could not believe what I was hearing.

“Yes, I stand on the biblical teachings on this issue!” was the forceful response I got. This stumped me even further as the individual had only minutes before listened to my entire life story – gore and all – and said they were cool with my journey. It just was not making sense to me.

How can you be such a biblically righteous person and be cool with a woman whose journey included rape, battering, pre-martial sex, same-sex relationship and consensual sex outside of marriage, yet would hold a hard-line (pun intended) on fornication?

I quickly ended the conversation, saying “Okay, I have to go now, talk to you later,” and for the rest of the day played this conversation over and over in my head. That is how sex got a hold of my mind.

By the following day, I came to my conclusion but wanting to ensure that I was not being judgmental or ‘out to lunch’ about this issue, I decided to check in with three persons.

The first one thought the individual might be impotent and wanted to trap someone in marriage before they figured that out. The second, Anni, after she picked herself off the floor, thought that this was a religious nut who wants to convert me so was saying the right things about my past but let the proverbial cat out of the bag when it came right down to it. And the third, my gentle giant R., thought this was a ploy – to sound like a nice person and then there would be hell to pay when Jezebel (me) got them into bed before marriage!

Bottom line was – all my ‘consultants’ agreed that this was one person to run from as fast as I could. I loved what Anni said – “You are no goddamn teenager! That’s something an 18 year old would say but for a woman of our age that’s ludicrous!”

Is it really? Is fornication such a silly notion in the year 2008?

I thought about it – hence my luggage still not being packed and the plants dying from thirst – trying hard to find some merit in this person’s position. My conclusion is, Anni is right. Fornication or to be more politically correct – not engaging in pre-marital sex might be a value we need to instill in our children and young people. Actually, let me adjust that statement somewhat.

Pre-commitment sex is the real issue. Regular readers know my love and adoration for Bishop John Shelby Spong. I have read all his books, met him in person twice and have his autograph – am I a fan or what? The first of his books that I read was a life-saver for me.

“Living in Sin: A Bishop Rethinks Human Sexuality,” saved me from the years of condemnation and feelings of shame that I had inflicted on myself – as society had judged me or told me that I was unclean, worthless and not pure.

It was not my fault that since the age of two I was the target of male fantasy to have sex with a minor. Neither was it my fault that a man thought it okay to rape me – as I was his property. But try telling that to a teenager and worse yet, try convincing an adult who has lived all of her life feeling this way.

And so for years, even while in a long-term relationship, I silently lived with the shame and guilt – afraid to share the pain that I was going through even with my dearest because I felt no one would really understand…and in fact even my closest really did not.

The healing process started for me when I read that book of Bishop Spong and his understanding of sexuality and sex within a committed relationship. That healing deepened when I was able to sit across from him (back in Jamaica) and in less than 15minutes poured out my desire to be a spiritualcounsellor but the shame I felt about my past. His words to me placed me squarely on the path that I now trod.

Sex only after marriage does not guarantee a successful marriage. The divorce statistics prove that. Equally, sex before marriage (or even before a true bond and commitment has developed) – consensual or otherwise – changes the nature of the relationship and brings challenges with it.

I do agree that sex is not the be all and end all of any relationship and therefore whether one continues to engage in a particular relationship should not be determined solely on the basis of sex. But I also agree that sex without commitment is merely lust and involvements started on that basis will not end in a long-lasting and committed relationship.

That is what I eventually shared with this individual. I sat at my computer and did what I do best – I wrote a long email explaining my position that:
(1) I have no desire, at this point in time or in the near future, to get married to anyone regardless of the gender;
(2) we are sexual beings and sexuality is part of our DNA and therefore it would be hard for me (and for anyone) to deny and repress such an essential part of their ‘beingness’;
(3) having ‘been around the block,’ as many times as I have, asking me to either not express who I am at my core for someone who I truly care for and love would be the real sin.

As Anni said, I (nor you DOF’s) are not teenagers, although one have to wonder about some of us. I think I can differentiate between lust and when two people have spent time really getting to know each, time and effrot getting in touch with each others deepest feelings and emotions, and based on those things make a commitment to share the journey for however long life allows.

I received a equally long reply, filled with biblical quotes of judgment and condemnation. The ‘pus’ [cat] was let out of the bag finally! I had a good laugh and then thought – this has to be written; this is Part 5 of the DOF series!

Now I am going to throw a few pieces of clothing in a bag ( I will not be making any fashion statements on this trip :), put the book I should have read weeks ago in my hand luggage to read on the flight tonight and go to Toronto and pretend to be wise (ha-ha).

Blessings,


Claudette

Photos as usual are courtesy of Renato

DOF 3: Maintaining Your Friendships

Where to start? There is so much to tell!

Driving my tired self over an hour late to work this morning – the day after the first Divas’ Christmas party – I had the story line down pat or so I thought. The voices inside my head were in a chattering mood!

They must know about the party!

You have to tell them the menu and that you cooked almost everything by yourself! What about the fact that you shopped, prepped the dishes, cleaned and decorated (even more) the apartment and laid out a spread over three days?

What about the DOF [Dating Over Forty] series?

Are you not going to tell them that it seems for sure the beautiful, intelligent, sassy woman you saw a couple times and finally got “the information” on also does ‘disappearing acts’?

And what about 'the shrink' who you keep declaring to ‘the boys that “we are just friends,” a statement they simply smirk at every time they see you two together?

Although not as ‘exciting’ as the other stories, you must share about “Divas for Kiva.”

It was -20 degrees and over 10 centimeters of snow was on the ground already with more coming down, making my ‘already very late’ drive to work that more dangerous. However, all that was on my ‘mind-screen’ was, as they call it in the media and advertising world, the ‘copy’ and headline of this post.

DOF 3: Maintaining Your Friendships

The title seems boring but it is one of the most important piece of advice that I wish someone had told me when I started dating “back in the day.” It is also the best piece of advice that I could ever share on this blog.

The Party

The Divas’ Party was a success! A flaming success I should say based on the comments and feedback about the food, my apartment, how well behaved Angello was since his sexual encounter, the games, the music and the cause.

Not everyone that I invited came. And that is to be expected at any event. Except for one of my boys who had to stay home to nurse his sick pup and a woman who changed my life’s path a few years ago, the absences, however, spoke volumes.

The food and the drinks were all Caribbean – well aside from the cheese board. Almost every Jamaican favourite you either know or every heard of was served.

I shopped and slaved over the stove for three days to ensure that my guests had the best my country of birth has to offer:
1. Ackee & Saltfish Tarts
2. Jamaica Beef Patties
3. Peppered Shrimp (better that how they make it in St. Elizabeth!)
4. Jamaican-style Vegetable Salad (with our version of vinaigrette)
5. Oxtail and Butter Beans
6. Curried Goat (and it was a ram because I could smell it!)
7. Ham (dressed with pineapples and cherries)
8. Rice & Peas
9. Escoveitched Fish
10. Fried Plaintains
11. Jamaica Christmas Cake with rum sauce

As for the drinks, hardly a drinker I did the Caribbean proud and made Pina Colada, Brown Cow (with Tia Maria of course), Rum Punch (with Jamaican Overproof White Rum!) and Sorrel.

If I may say so myself, the apartment was beautiful and as my woman-friend Anni gushed “it has a wonderful, warm feeling and energy...you have created a superb environment, Claudette.” And she was not drunk yet!

My fire place is actually fire engine red and it formed the backdrop of a very cozy and intimate setting – perfect for the most wonderful group of people I have ever had the privilege to journey alongside.

A Hint to Point #7

Which brings me to Point #7 of the DOF series – and in true Jamaican style – my advice is “nuh dash wey yuh friends fi nobody!” I will translate in a moment.

Years ago – it feels more like eons ago – as a student in the former Soviet Union I found that among my fellow country people there were few of us who really spoke the Russian very well. Lance and I were counted in that group. The reason this was so is that we never clung to the very small Jamaican community but stretched ourselves and made very good friends with our hosts.

Another thought that comes to mind is a recollection of something that the woman in the Canadian High Commission who handled our immigration papers said. It was a reminder of my ‘Russian years'. “Do not isolate yourself, it will take longer for you to truly settle if you do,” she advised.

I personally took that to heart and from day one started making friends – using that word loosely.


How to Make and Keep True Friends

After finding a place to live, unpacking, re-packing to move house again and unpacking there, it was I who found us – no let me correct that – it was I who found a church home for myself. It was one that my ex partner and daughter would occasionally visit, usually at my begging and pleading.

I volunteered with several organizations, joined community groups, was selected chair for a social justice committee at the college where I was pursuing my second Master degree, I went to seminars, political-type meetings etc. All of this between trying to make an decent living.

There is a popular or once popular phrase here – “I am Canadian,” and I walked (and continue to walk) that talk – daily and in my own style by meeting people, bringing them home, feeding them, ‘struggling or fighting’ with them or on their behalf, comforting or simply listening to them.

The Break-Up and the Break-Down

It was not until ‘the break up’ last year that I realized the impact of my actions.

With my feet over my head and my mind literally and metaphorically falling to pieces – some of these same people encircled and held me and rocked me as I wept.

Five, one with whom I can no longer physically journey, literally stopped me from killing myself. Anni I thank you – pissed as I was then, I now publicly thank you for calling the cops on me.

Then there was my dear senior citizen, Miss I, who scooped me out of a closet (literally) and took me to the doctor.

Marlene is another woman-friend I made here - one who I met a few months before my feet were swinging above my head in Toronto at a conference.

This is a funny story – she is Jamaican-Canadian and had seen my picture and a write up about me in a conference magazine and sought me out. We spent only a few hours together – maybe a day a most – but when she heard about my dilemma last year, at her expense, she jumped on a plane from Toronto to Edmonton and spent three (boring for her) weeks – cooking and coaxing me to eat.

There were the ones who are thousands of miles away but continued to be a part of my life. Zacca, Patti and Dr. Green – three phenomenal women who from a distance helped to nurture me back to wholeness.

One took care of my mother as I was lost in the wilderness, the other two stayed on the phone with me, for hours on end, when I thought I could not live one more day.

Another Jamaican-Canadian, Miss W in Toronto, is the woman-friend that I wanted to smack for reminding me about my bit of profundity about being in relationship with a woman. She was a rock of wisdom on which I would sit frequently.

Abigail – who most readers to now knew as “A” – is both my daughter and my friend. We have had our ups and downs. She has had her challenges with – as she was told by society – my lifestyle.

A more strong or courageous young woman I have never met. She has a mind of her own –and the panache to say, "Mummy, let’s move on,” without words. Yes – she does call me Mummy, even at 20!

My Boys

And last but not least – and I am sure there are people I have failed to mention but certainly have not forgotten their kindness – my boys.

How do I explain this group of men? How do I describe the love, nurture and care that I have received from a group of men (including Lance) that the wider society – both near and far – would scorn? Where do I start to express my deep love and gratitude to this group of culturally diverse men who have adopted me not only as their fag hag but as sister?

It struck me some time ago that it was the men of the LGBTQ community that I have identified with since being in Edmonton who rallied around me. The lesbians paid their ‘visits’ but left with hardly a glance backwards but the men, ‘my boys’, pitched tents in my life and quietly encouraged and cheered me back to wholeness.

Better than Money

What does any of this have to do with Diva Christmas parties, food and dating? Everything!

Last night, we paused for a few minutes at my request. I had something to say and things to give.

What I had to say was “thank you” to my friends for being my friends and for coming into my life and being brave to 'become even more human’ alongside me. I wanted to thank ‘the shrink’ for staying in my life – even though “we are just friends” ( I can hear the boys laughing as they read this).

During my numerous shopping expeditions for this party, I bought gift bags and filled them with ‘little stuff’ – nothing expensive. The party, the fact that it was the first, these party gifts and the hours it took me to cook were all part of my way of saying how thankful I am that these people – both present and excused – are a part of my life and journey.

Without them, I would either be dead or in a psych ward somewhere, and this is not b....ing, just a statement of fact, where my ex’s “exclusive” friend and probably lover told me in December 2006 that I should be.

It was literally because of my woman-friend, D Mc, the one who changed my life the minute I laid eyes on her and the person who is responsible for me serving at a prison today, that I ‘flew’ the coop of the psych ward.

She, and all of my friends, rescued me from a fate untold.

I see the "hands of God" in all of this as all these friends are wounded healers! Each one, including my daughter, has been, for one reason or another, criticized, judged and ruled ‘unworthy’ by others.

The Translation

That phrase, “nuh dash wey yuh friends fi nobody,” means do not throw (or abandon) your true friends – the ones who have stood the test of time and/or trial – for anyone, especially not for a lover (however you understand that word).

Many will come into your dating experience who will have much to say about your friends…run from them!

I did.

Over the last few months of dating, I have been told how unhealthy or unwise it is to:
 have the types of friendships that I have
 to cherish and go 100 extra miles with and for my friends
 to be with gay men so much

That list could go on.

There is another wonderful Jamaican saying – “Good friends, better than pocket money,” – over the last year I have proven that.

Had it not been for these people who I have named and the unnamed ones – no amount of money would or could have brought me to the place where I can testify, yes testify, that “by the Grace of God who appeared as these angels – I am well!” Thank you God! Thank you my friends!

A special thanks to Mark and Mark (yes, they are a couple and their names are/is Mark) for their Cdn$60.00 donation that will go to sponsor two persons at Kiva!


Blessings and in deep gratitude,

Claudette

P.S. Photographs, as usual, are Renato's. You can see more on my Facebook.

Dating Over Forty

Some months back I said that it is quite possible that very soon a post like this one would be available.

Here it is and in my usual style -- it's a no holes barred post.

Yesterday, as I prepared to go shopping for a gift to take to a Diwali feast and dance that a couple of my boys were hosting, I realized that I was driving around for almost two months with an unlicensed car.

It was Sunday and I had several places to go but knowing that my car was illegal I was in extreme panic. Instead of heading back into my apartment, I called this giant of a man who loves me to the ground that I walk on and who has become like a brother I never had.

I screeched at him "I need to find a registry! Do you know any that's open on a Sunday?"

The long and short of this story is that he found one and directed me to it and my car is now licensed until 2008. It was something this Caucasian man said to me though that has stuck in my head. "Honey, you know it's dangerous to be Driving While Black!"

Dating over the last few months has been as and in some cases more dangerous than DWB. In fact, Dating Over Forty (DOF) can be emotionally lethal especially if one's self esteem is not firmly intact.

Several months after 'the break up', I finally acquiesced to my friends’, particularly Lance, and my daughter’s insistence that I get out and get a life. Regular readers will remember that post about my first date – it’s one I will never forget, all 15-minutes of it!

One thing I deliberately did not specify, at least not here on Comforting Words, was the fact that this and my subsequent dates were with men. Yes, men.

Those closest to me knew. And those closest to me understood why it had to be that way.

Backtrack just for a moment. In the heights of the drama of the ‘break up’, a dear and long-time woman-friend from Jamaica, who now resides in Toronto, in a telephone conversation with me reminded me of a piece of profundity I said to her some 10-12 years ago. It was not her intention to throw it back in my face nor was she trying to make me feel stupid. She was doing what friends especially those who know you well do - giving me a reality check.

“Girlfriend," she said, “I will never forget how you were there for me during my own divorce.” To which I responded with some words to express how humble I was and that it was no big deal. “No, no, that is something I will never forget and how you opened your home and your life to me, which you didn’t have to do,” she insisted. “But there is something I must ask you if you remember saying to me.”

“What?”

“Remember you told me that maybe when I got over my divorce and ready to be in another relationship, I might want to consider being with a woman.” Without waiting for a response from me, she continued, “You also said to me ‘a woman would never hurt you like a man'.”

If she was close to me and not on the telephone, God knows I would have smacked her because I knew where she was going with this. “What do you feel about that now?”

What I felt was like telling her what a b…h she was for reminding me of how stupid “being in love” makes you. My profound wisdom had come from being in relationship with my now ex for about two or three years and in all honesty while I can now say that pain is pain no matter the gender dishing it out, my experiences with men up to that time had left me extremely wary.

Well gentle people, the last few months have not changed that feeling. No, this is not a womanist lesbian treatise against men. I love the animal. Over the last few months, however, I have met a cross-section of that kingdom that has confirmed my inner knowing that that world is not for me.

All the stories your mother has told you or not told you because she was/is too embarrassed to admit that her life is not what she pretends it to be or r stories she prayed you would never hear or experience are still true.

It gets worse when you are woman DOF – just as bad as DWB.

Just to interject here though – before anyone thinks I am saying this about men only - being a woman DOF and a person of colour, especially ‘black’ in a white majority city, town or country is close to a death penalty period.

I have made speeches at conferences and presentations at workshops on this issue over the last couple years – the discrimination and racism that is rampant in the LGBTQ community. My most recent experiences confirmed my suspicion and the real life stories I have heard about the reality of inter-racial and inter-cultural dating – that it is hard as hell still in this day and age.

Hold it though … please do not believe the lie that a 'brother' will be more sensitive or it would be easier dating your own kind! Been there, done that and it’s a myth!

So what have I learned about DOF? Whether man, woman, a person of colour or Caucasian:

1. You drink a hell of a lot of coffee. Most first meetings take place at a coffee shop and if you are like me who have had 3-4 cups by 7:00 a.m., this can be hard on your bladder.

2. You must read with uttermost caution their profiles if you are doing internet dating. What a lot of them write is about the ‘person they would like to be when they grow up’ not who they are right now. And guess what – most of them will never grow up.

3. Truth is a novel concept for many - something they really don’t understand or believe is a possibility. If you really like someone and want to ‘get to know them’ – well don’t tell the truth about anything. Most cannot seem to believe truth even if she came and kissed them. The better you are at story-telling and myth-creating the better chance you will have at a second or even third date.

4. Never, no never, express your feelings – this is a liability not an endearing factor. Never make the mistake and give gifts for special occasions – it will be deemed that you are moving too fast or want to either move in or have them move in with you. (You all can see how hard it has been and will continue to be for me – as I am a blabber mouth about my feelings and telling the truth! Worse yet, I love to give gifts!)

5. The most popular line is “I am looking for friends.” Unfortunately, most who write or say that has a different understanding of ‘friendship’ than say I do. If you are into head games, one or two night stands, jumping though hoops to prove you are not after their family heirloom, not quite happy with what you have managed to earn through sweat equity, pretending to be what you are not, love to meet for coffee morning, noon or night, cannot hold your knife and fork properly (that’s a pet peeve or mine thanks to my ex) then you are “friend” material.

I could go on and maybe I will someday, however, this should give those of you who are DOF a fair picture of what you are in for. And like I said before – this goes for both genders. Yes, Miss Y in Toronto, a woman can and in fact will hurt (and play games with you) as much as a man can…I am eating crow’s pie.

Am I put off from the dating scene? Am I now planning to enter a convent? Or remain celibate for the rest of my life, dying of old age with my dog Angello by my side? (Incidentally, Angello, the love of my life, was seriously ill a few weeks ago – I thought he was a goner. But after much tests and hundreds of dollars in the vet’s pocket, he was diagnosed with kidney disease and is being treated. Thank God for small mercies).

No, I am not done dating, nor am I going to join a convent no matter how enticing the thought or rushing to a relationship with anyone. And my humble advice to anyone recently out of a long standing relationship -- it's true that you need at least one month for each year to feel the power of healing. It's been 13 months for me now and boy does it feels good!

I am just far more aware, clear that the man scene is not for me. They make great friends, my gentle giant is one such, but my soul - which is what I want to share - belongs to a woman “somewhere out there,” who is self-possessed, "in touch with her feelings", totally inter-cultural, smart, sassy, well-educated and open to the ‘joys’ of DOF. (Seems like a tall order, ah well).

When I meet her, you will be the first to know.

Blessings,

Claudette

P.S. Most of the recent photographs on Comforting Words are courtesy of my friend Ren. You can see his work at http://www.renatogandia.com

Ready to Heal My Heart

I have not laughed so hard in years – truly!

We were in stitches, my daughter and I. She was trying to get me to stop laughing so I could tell her the full story but that was hard.

My uncontrollable laughter had started twenty minutes before getting her on the phone. In fact, it started after my woman-friend, Anni, got me out of a tight spot – thank God!

By now you must be wondering what the heck I am on about. Well here is the story.

Following up on my man-friend’s advice to “get out, hit the clubs and show off my fabulous self,” I checked in with my soon-to-be twenty year old daughter exactly how one gets a date these days.

I listened keenly as she gave me dating tips, some that I had given her years before and some that were so new to me they seemed outlandish! I was somewhat amused at how the roles had changed, nevertheless, I listened. Her last words to me, which was so cute, were “So, let’s go to the lounge this Saturday night!”

“No, I don’t know about that baby girl,” I responded, thinking that I had to absorb the information first and see how comfortable and how ready I was with all that she had told me. Further, there were some other options, like internet dating, which I also wanted to consider some more.

Truth be told, I am not ready for a 'relationship' but as Lance said, there was no harm in my getting out more, beyond the company of my women-friends, the senior citizen that I hang out with most Fridays and the women at work. “You are not looking for a partner; you’re just having some fun – something you have not had for a while!” Lance commanded me in his usual style.

I have always had a presence on one particular internet chat/dating site but not as someone looking for a date but to offer the services of Comfort Foundation. Given my new status, I decided to change my profile a bit and to add my profile on another site. This seemed more comfortable for me, allowing me time to 'check out' the people before having to actually meet.

Well, no sooner than I had posted my profile (and yes, photograph) on the new site, my mail box started to fill up! “Damn, I’m hot!” (just kidding).

The experience of internet dating is a topic for a post all by itself. What I want to share in this post is the fact that now I know that I am ready to heal my heart.

After checking out a few of the persons who emailed me, via hotmail messenger (yes, I created an account as this is part and parcel of internet dating it seems) and other sources, I narrowed it down to one potential. Immediately, I placed a call to Lance to find out, what I should do next. Remember people, I have not dated in 16 years!

His advice was meet the person asap, instead of chatting online for months to finally meet and realize that there is no true chemistry or depth of personality. He was right on the money as that is so important to me - honesty, intelligence, spirituality and depth of personality!

Scared at the prospect of meeting someone basically blindly (I have shared in an early post about the horrors of my first blind date), I agreed to meet this person at a bookstore with a coffee shop early evening (Thursday).

Something told me to call my woman-friend Anni and meet her for an early supper before this ‘date’. So we did. After the first course, Anni straight facedly asked me, “So what is your back up plan to get out of there fast if you don’t feel the right energy?”

“Duh, I don’t have one,” was my stupid response. "Sit and grin until it's appropriate to go?"

“Claudette, you need a plan to get out fast, so let’s come up with something now.” Anni instructed.

We plotted until we agreed on what time she would call me and what codes we would use to either confirm that the vibes were right or that I am getting the hell out of there.

And so off I went, punctual as ever for my 7:00 p.m. meeting. I walked in and immediately spotted someone who fit the profile somewhat. I approached and when the person confirmed that they were the one, I almost ran out of the store!

“No, you must be polite,” my bigger self told me.

So I took a seat, not removing my nice black trench coat. That should have been the first clue to the other party that this woman was not feeling anything!

As the individual went on and on about themselves, their job and their properties, etc., I was clutching my cell phone, willing it to ring!

I smiled politely for 10 minutes, listening to this person sell themselves but I was not buying. Too short, too much perfume, too many superficialities and I just could not see beyond the dry hair and skin!

I tried to be my best spiritual self and remind myself that this was a child of God sitting in front of me but I also knew the Divine would never want me to settle for less than I truly deserve – even for an hour – been there, done that for too long.

Finally, after my second refusal for anything to drink and my noticing that the individual’s credit card was declined for a $1.50 bottle of milk, my cell phone rang and it was Anni – right on time.

“Oh dear…” I commiserated as she told me her exact location and asked how is it going, “I can get there in ten minutes.” I was on my feet as I was saying this and Anni was laughingly saying: "And I will meet you at your place with a bottle of Bailey's [my favourite drink when I do have one] to get this story!"

The individual got the message and as I walked out asked whether they could email me. I did my 20-year old's routine response, “Whatever.”

The uncontrollable laughter started as I drove away from the bookstore – not at the individual but the experience and the overwhelming feeling of freedom and happiness I felt.

Since Thursday evening, I have been telling this story of my first internet dating experience to my daughter, all my woman-friends and Lance and with each re-telling the laughter and the feeling of joy deepen.

In a few weeks, I believe I will be able to write a post about “Dating After 40,” but for the meantime, I am doing as Melody Beattie, the author of The Language of Letting Go and Journey to the Heart, writes:

“Maybe some deceived us unconsciously or betrayed us deliberately [and we say] I can deal with that…they have their own issues. I forgive…And we do forgive. But
now it may be time to learn gentleness, compassion, understanding and
forgiveness for ourselves as well. We don’t open our hearts by ignoring the
break lines. We take our hand, knowing its held by God, and gently run our
fingers across each crack. Yes, it’s there. Yes, I feel it. Yes, I’m ready to
heal my heart.”

Yes, I am ready to heal my heart.

Blessings,

Claudette