How Many Licks Does It Take to Get to the Center of a Tootsie Pop? Or the Center of My Heart?

Here I go again.

Well, I actually started going down this path back in February of 2015, I just have not shared it with the world at this point. Let me get straight to the matter at hand - I have fallen in love again, and I cannot get up (and do not want to get up).

The week before Valentine's Day 2015, I decided it was time to get back into the game after my last romance had stumbled and fallen apart over the previous few months. (Thanksgiving 2014 is forever etched upon my mind as a low point on the love/relationship scale.) In the cacophony of messages, matches, winks, swipes, and nonsense, one man clearly stood out from all of the others with one simple question: a man sent me a simple message that said, "Hello. So who is your favorite science fiction author?"

The message popped up on my phone, and I actually stopped walking and stood by a tree for a moment on 23rd and Montana in Santa Monica. I was pleasantly surprised, and took a few minutes to prattle off a response, eager to engage in one of my favorite conversations. "Clarke, Boulle, Atwood, Huxley, and the guy that wrote "Altered Carbon" but I cannot think of his name at the moment."

I was immediately taken by the fact that he had not commented on my smile, or my hair, or asked what I was looking for in a relationship - he actually read what I wrote and asked something pertinent to me as an individual, as a person, as someone with a brain.That led to his earning the nickname of "the scifi author guy" whilst discussing my various potential dating candidates with my friends. (There was Tesla Dude, the skier, Long Beach COO, to name a few)

And so it began. This initial message exchange was followed by a night of pizza, karaoke, and Maker's Mark Manhattans.At karaoke, he sang the Who's "Squeezebox" and the Beatles' "Glass Onion"  - both favorites of mine. A five mile hike along the crest line between Encino and Brentwood. Long conversations at Uncle Bernie's Deli. Karaoke at the Gas Light. Going to Disney. Shopping at the Farmer's Market and cooking together. Hours lost to the time warp of kissing, talking, touching, napping, exploring, laughing, tickling, staring, asking, answering, giving, taking, eating, singing, running, conspiring, planning, driving, traveling.

And I fell for him.

And I told him.

And I took the risk of telling him first.

I let my damaged, weather beaten, protected heart breathe, and on  a random day in May on a random sidewalk in Encino, at about 11:00 a.m. on a random day, I leaned into his neck on tiptoe to whisper into his ear, "I am falling for you." He replied with a hug that was so strong, so enveloping, that I can still feel the lingering effects.

How could I be so foolish to fall in love again? I have been married three times, and they have not worked out. I have been in "serious" relationships other times as well. How could I trust myself to know whether I was falling in love or falling into a habit I had developed? Why was I willing to risk the pain, risk the torment, risk the chance of looking foolish again by telling him first? I imagine in retrospect it is because this time, my feelings were different. This time, my heart (which by all sensible accounts should be a jaded, atrophied, calloused rock by now) was not making choices - it was tentatively allowing itself to be touched by someone who had a way of being that was magnetic, safe, and passionate.

In June, I told him I loved him.

My romantic history has provided entertainment for my friends and family for decades. How could I tell them - AGAIN - that I was in love? The endless stream of "Promise me you will never get married again", "You know you can just live in sin, right?", "I think you do better when you are by yourself, you are happier alone."  certainly did not encourage me to share the good news of my joyous discovery of this man with my closest circle. I know that they are generally coming from a place of love, concern, and care when they offer their advice, however, it still made me sad.

July 19th, he told me he loved me too.

Is it written that if you have failed at love before that there is some limited number of times that you can try? Is someone that stays for years in a relationship that makes them unhappy, depressed, or exposes them to abuse "better" or more successful at love than I am? Is there an Olympic judge panel that will assign a score to your love life at the end of it all? Just before you go through the pearly gates or get on the escalator down into hell, will you receive your "love score"? I just don't think so. If we do, I am confident that I will score pretty well in the Freestyle and Artistic categories....I imagine my score in the Compulsories will be low.

All I know is that I love men. I love the idea of having a partner on this journey. I love the idea of love. I have earnestly ventured into all of my relationships regardless of how they have ended. I certainly have taken risks, maybe more so than others have, and I do not regret it.

My Mom defended me at a Family Reunion last year when some cousins jumped on the "Promise us you will never get married again" bandwagon. When I said, "No - I will not make a promise I cannot keep. I am only 47 and I plan on living to be 100 - a lot can happen in over 50 years" my Mom followed up with this:

"When you have found the love of your life, like I did with Jay, you stop looking. Your heart is satisfied. When you haven't found the love of your life yet....you feel compelled to keep looking." She smiled and looked me in the eye with that glance of motherly understanding.

And so I have kept my love under wraps for the past 10 months, wanting to avoid the judgment, the questions, the commentary - whether out of concern or out of ridicule. But today, December 5, 2015, I awoke feeling inspired to share it. This time, it feels different. This time, it works differently. This time...this time.........this time, I believe it when he tells me he loves me for who I am, and how I think, and what I do. This time, I love the man he is and not my romanticized version of him.

My heart....my ability to love.....it takes a licking and keeps on ticking.

still happy...(brief interlude)....and still happy

A year ago today, I was still happy.  I was full of excitement at the coming holidays with my new husband.  I was still relaxed and tan from our honeymoon.  I was wistful and romantic and hopeful that I was at the beginning of a great marriage, a time of growing together in adventure, love, and sensuality.  I thought the puzzle piece had been found - my puzzle piece.

Not that everything had been perfect.  I wish it had been MORE perfect as maybe that would have raised some hair on the back of my neck.  My romance and love addled brain had rationalized away the small things.....the pressure.....the few disagreements with thoughts of how this would be normal for anyone in a new relationship.  Normal for anyone who had just moved over 1100 miles (not that I would have had those issues - but I am an explorer).  Normal for anyone whose father had just passed away the year prior.  You get the idea.  My happy-go-lucky self would wake up each morning thinking that those stresses and triggers would go away, and the happy-go-lucky partner that I had found would re-emerge, fresh as a daisy, and we would continue on our path of love, and singing, dancing, and cooking, eating, and kissing, and living.  For the first time in a very long time....I had let my guard down.  I had let someone in.  I was trusting another soul with mine.

I distinctly remember that a year ago today, I was blissfully unaware of what I had created for myself, and by extension, for my children.  My children that I had sheltered as much as possible in the years since their father and I had split up.  I had not introduced them to a single person that I had gone out with since 2004.  2004 until 2012.........and then the fateful day came when I did introduce them to someone.  But I am getting off track.  (My own brain just said to me, "Wouldn't be the first time" to myself in a sarcastic way in my head.  Lovely.  Thanks, own brain.)

Looking back at how I felt last year, I was brimming with energy and excitement at home and at work.  Still selling real estate which I have loved now for 15 years and launching a new business venture in wedding and event planning.  Our new home was coming together.  The boys were doing fairly well at school.  We had a fantastic dog (Chadwick is the best!).  There was some uneasiness - especially around the kitchen and food and cooking - and my mind rationalized that a person in their 40's and a person in the 50's that had been single for so long would certainly have some ruffling of feathers when moving in together.  Surely, that would fade away in the distance like a stomach flu soon forgotten.  I was so unaware of what was around the corner.

I am sharing this with you today because this is a bittersweet anniversary for me.  I remember the feelings of joy, satisfaction, excitement, pride, and relief that I had last year this day.  I had found the one, my one, and we were married.  And then, we went shopping for Halloween costumes.  Ethan was with us, ready to search for the perfect costume for his trick-or-treating extravaganza.  That shopping trip was the first time that things went very poorly.......horribly awry.......and I was so uncomfortable and confused and disturbed........and it is the first time that the little siren went off in my head, and I knew that something was really wrong.

And for the first time......I could not rationalize it away.  I did not rationalize it away.

Then came the fights over Thanksgiving and who would cook and what we would have.....then a downward spiral that threw me around like I was in a washing machine and shot me out of a cannon and has landed me right here.  Right here a year later, on my own with my amazing sons - the Three Musketeers again.

How do I feel about the whole thing?  Well, I know that when I fell in love in 2011 and 2012, it was a wonderful feeling that I have not really ever felt before in my life.  It made me feel good!  And it made me realize that I can have those feelings of love and lust and abandon and laughter with someone and be lost in the moment...lost in a smile....that time can play in slow motion in a kiss or a hug with the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears as music.  I had started to think I would never have those feelings again.  So I want to thank that person for awakening the exuberant lover in me again.  Even though things have not panned out - I can still leave those memories intact, and the way that I felt about myself and life intact and separate.  That is a choice I can make.  I am convinced that I can find the person that will make me feel that way again AND have all the other attributes, philosophies, and approaches to life so that we can sing together for years to come.  He is out there somewhere, and I will be in front of him sometime.

I am grateful as I pass through this anniversary that I was able to take action for myself and the boys and the dog.  That I am strong enough to let go of something that was not good for ANY of us involved, including my soon-to-be ex.  I am so appreciative that things got as bad as they did so quickly so that the choice was easier to make.  I would have died inside if things had stayed just a few levels better as I would have stayed for years...trying to make it work....losing myself in the process....never succeeding....and suffering emotional exsanguination before finally laying the relationship to rest.  God did not want that for me  - I am here as a lover of life and a doer of things and a dreamer of dreams.  That is one of the best outcomes from what has happened here.

I can honestly say to you all that after extreme heartbreak, bowel-shaking disappointment, and a soul crushing episode that I am whole hearted, and that I am still happy. :-)  Happy "Still Happy" Anniversary to me!